Panting. A sudden moan. Gasps of twisted delight. Sweat glistens along writhing forms of caramel and cream. Fingers tease and torment. Lips slide over silken flesh and nip at shadows and peaks.
Pages slip to the floor, unnoticed in rapture. Elegant fingers ease into throbbing heat and a mouth dips to taste. Hair is gripped, held tight, muscles quivering in anticipation. Faster, deeper… Driven to the edge. A white hot flash erupts and words, both incoherent and profane, color the air.
More papers hit the floor.
Laughter.
"This is why we shouldn't do this at work, Camille."
"Shut up, Temperance."