Chapter 8: The Phone Call
The taste of her was still on his tongue, a tangy stain he knew he’d carry for hours. Caitlin lay panting on the glass, a slick mess between her thighs gleaming under the office lights. Josh stared down at her, his own breath ragged, the cold knot of guilt tightening in his gut even as his blood pulsed hot. He had done this.He had reduced them to this. The polished chrome and the city view felt like a witness box.His phone buzzed in his pocket.
The sound was a physical shock, a jolt back into a world of consequences.He fumbled for it, his fingers slick. The screen flashed: Millie’s face, smiling next to a sunflower from a county fair last summer. The guilt twisted, sharp and sickening.
Caitlin’s eyes, heavy-lidded and dark, tracked his movement.A slow, dangerous smile curved her swollen lips. She understood instantly.Josh accepted the call, bringing the phone to his ear. “Hey, babe,” he said, and his voice was miraculously steady, only a little breathless.“Hey! How’d it go? Did you talk to Caitlin?” Millie’s voice was bright, earnest.It scraped against his nerves.“Yeah, I’m with her now. At her office.” He watched as Caitlin, with deliberate, silent slowness, slid off the desk. Her knees hit the carpet quietly. She kept her eyes locked on his as she reached for his belt buckle.“Oh, perfect!So, what’s the verdict? Maple Street or the one on Crestview?”
Caitlin’s fingers worked the clasp, the snick of the leather release impossibly loud to Josh.The zpper grated down.He swallowed. “We’re… uh, we’re leaning toward Maple.The yard’s better. For a dog, you know?” He was talking about a hypothetical dog, a future family pet, while another woman was pulling his cock out of his jeans.Caitlin didn’t hesitate. She took him into her mouth in one smooth, deep glide. Her lips stretched around his girth, her head sinking until his tip nudged the back of her throat. The heat and wetness were a shocking contrast to the sterile office air. A low groan clawed its way up his chest and he choked it back, coughing slightly into the phone.“Josh?You okay?”
“Fine. Just… swallowed wrong.” He closed his eyes as Caitlin began to move. Her mouth was a masterpiece of friction and suction. She pulled back slowly, her tongue a flat, swirling pressure along his underside, then plunged down again, taking him deeper.His free hand fisted at his side. “The… the inspection thing is a hassle, but Caitlin thinks we can use it.”
“That’s her job,” Millie said, cheerful and trusting. “She’s good at that.”
Caitlin heard it.Her eyes glittered with a malicious glee. She pulled off him with a soft, wet pop and pushed him backwards. He stumbled, the phone still clutched to his ear, and fell into the deep leather armchair. It was still warm from where he’d been sitting earlier, discussing mortgages.Before he could process it, Caitlin was on him. She hiked her ruined skirt up around her waist and straddled his lap. She was a vision of debauched authority, her blouse open, her hair wild, her cunt glistening and wet from his mouth.He was still hard, jutting up between them. She reached between her own legs, took him in hand, and guided his cockhead to her opening.
“So, what’s the next step?” Millie asked.Josh gasped as Caitlin sank down onto him. Her pussy was impossibly hot, slick, and tight, a velvet fist gripping him inch by inch. She didn’t stop until he was fully sheathed inside her, her ass resting against his thighs.He could feel the tremble in her legs, the raw power of her control.
“The… next step…” Josh managed, his voice strained. He covered the phone’s microphone with his thumb.“Is we… we make an offer.”
Caitlin began to move. Not a frantic bounce, but a slow, deep, rolling grind of her hips. She clenched her inner muscles around him, a rhythmic, milking squeeze that made stars burst behind his eyelids. She leaned forward, her lips beside his ear, her breath hot. “Tell her… you’re looking at the paperwork,” she whispered, her voice a filthy secret.
“We’re looking at the paperwork,” Josh parrotd into the phone, the words thick.“That’s great,” Millie chirped. “I’m so excited.This feels real.”
Caitlin’s pace increased. The slow grind became a sharper rise and fall, the slap of her skin against his a quiet, rhythmic beat under the hum of the HVAC. She braced her hands on his shoulders, her nails digging into the fabric of his shirt.Each descent drove him deeper, hitting a spot that made her breath hitch. She watched his face, studying every flicker of pleasure, every spasm of guilt.
He was splitting in two. One half murmured agreement into the phone, talking about down payments and interest rates with his devoted girlfriend. The other half was buried to the hilt in her friend, his hands gripping the soft flesh of her hips, pulling her down onto him harder, faster. The betrayal was the most potent aphrodisiac he’d ever known.
“I should let you two focus,” Millie said.“Call me after?”
“Yeah. I’ll… I’ll call you.” Josh could barely form words. The pressure in his balls was a coiled spring, tightening with every sweep of Caitlin’s cunt.“Love you.”
The words were a stab wound. “Love you too,” he forced out, the lie burning his throat.
He ended the call and dropped the phone onto the carpet. The silence it left was filled with the sounds of their fucking: their ragged breathing, the wet, rhythmic noise of their joining, the creak of the leather chair.
Freed from pretense, Caitlin rode him with savage intensity. “You liar,” she panted, her eyes blazing.“You fucking liar.Tell me you want this. Tell me you want my pussy more than hers.”
He answered by surging up into her, driving upwards to meet her downward strokes.The chair rocked violently. “I want this,” he grunted, the truth of it horrifying and undeniable. “Your fucking pussy… it’s so good…”
“Come in me,” she demanded, her voice cracking.“Fill me up.Do it. Now.”
Her command, the sheer wrongness of it, shattered his last shred of control. With a guttural roar that was part agony, part release, he slammed up into her one last time and exploded. His orgasm ripped through him, violent and total, a flood of heat pumping deep into her.He clenched his eyes shut, his body arching, as he spilled everything.
Caitlin cried out, her own climax triggered by his, her body convulsing around his pulsing cock, milking him dry. She collapsed forward onto his chest, a dead weight drenched in sweat and sin.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their breathing, harsh and discordant in the pristine office.The city skyline twinkled, indifferent. The scent of sex, musky and sharp, finally overpowered the vanilla.
Josh’s arms lay limp at his sides. His mind, blank during the peak, now began to churn with a nauseating clarity.The phone lay on the floor, a black rectangle containing the ghost of Millie’s voice. Caitlin’s heat seeped into him, a branding iron.
She stirred first, lifting her head.She looked sated, triumphant, her cheekbones flushed with color. She didn’t kiss him.She simply eased off him, a slow, slick separation that felt more final than any goodbye. He was soft, spent, exposed.
She stood on shaky legs, pulling her skirt down over the mess they’d made. She walked to her desk, picked up a tissue from a discreet box, and cleaned herself with a detached efficiency.Then she handed one to him.
He took it, numb.
“The offer on Maple Street,” she said, her voice regaining its professional polish, though it was roughened at the edges.“I’ll draft it tonight. We should present it tomorrow morning.” She turned and looked at him, her gaze cool and appraising. “You should go home to your girlfriend, Josh.You sound tired.”
The cruelty of her dismissal was exquisite. He was just another client, a deal to be managed. He fumbled with his jeans, tucking himself away, the fabric sticky and uncomfortable. He retrieved his phone, its screen now a dark mirror showing him a face he barely recognized.He left without another word. The elevator doors closed on the sight of Caitlin, already straightening her blouse, smoothing her hair, returning to the world she ruled. The descent was silent and swift. As he stepped into the bustling evening lobby, the normal sounds of the city rushing in, he knew nothing would ever be the same. The guilt was no longer a cold stone in his gut. It was the air he breathed, and it was only just beginning to suffocate him.