Superficial (DE)

Nineteen.

"You're going to cum I can feel it," Brandon breathed. "I want you to cum on my dick— all over my dick," he instructed as he started to rub her clit faster.

Her broken whimpers became a symphony of angelic moans, getting louder with each belt as she clutched onto his arm digging her perfectly manicured nails into his skin. The feeling in her stomach growing stronger, her legs beginning to fall weak and shaky as he worked her to her breaking point.

"This pussy so sweet," Brandon breathed into her ear, kissing along the side of her face affectionately. "You like when I fuck you like this?" He asked, kissing the side of her face again.

Cerise squeezed her knees together, shifting in her seat uncomfortably as she could feel a wet spot forming in her panties— her second set of lips salivating. Memories of the past weekend ran laps around her mind as she tried to focus on her work but she couldn't for the life of her get that damned man off her mind— his smell, his voice, the way he knows just what to do with her like she were made specifically for him.

She craved him and his touch like a dope fiend and a loaded needle; the way he held her so tight and securely while he rearranged her guts, the way his dark orbs almost twinkled with admiration as he watched her suck his dick or how he talked her back down her orgasm after working her up the peak of her mountain.

Cerise felt as if she were in a constant state of need now. It was as if he'd lit a fire inside her only he could extinguish. He'd gotten control of her mind— just as he'd warned, and his memory was enough to make her cum on herself without the need for physical touch.

"The Sorvino's— haven't seen that box pulled in a while,"

Cerise looked up quickly, her lust ridden train of thought so rudely interrupted. She was so deep into la-la land she'd forgotten she were in the evidence room of her local precinct— out in the open where people could see her but thank God no one could read the dirty things on her mind.

An officer stood by the table she was seated at looking to be on his way out with a file box marked up with sharpie in his hands. Cerise looked at his badge reading Officer Stalon before smiling meekly. "Yes, I'm just gathering information for my case," She offered, though she quite frankly didn't need to tell him anything.

The officer sized her up, nodding slowly. He exuded energy as if she were meddling in something she had no business with but it was common practice for attorneys to use the police precinct evidence locker to their own discretion. "You working for them or something?" He grumbled. If she didn't know any better lshe would've thought his tone had a little dash of spite in it.

"No.. but my client has ties to them," She answered. "So I'm just seeing if there's anything I can use,"

The officer nodded slowly again, his expression hard. "Right," He muttered after a moment before finally walking away.

Cerise furrowed her brows, an event alarm going off on her phone just as the door shut reminding her of her lunch date with Asante in thirty minutes. "Dammit," She mumbled, silencing the alarm. She was hoping to have gotten atleast a little work done before leaving the office for the day. The four month time frame the judge had given either side of the defense had quickly dwindled to just a month and a half left and Cerise had made little to any progress at all.

The only work getting done while they were together was working each other.

Cerise folded the manila folder she'd taken out of the evidence box and tucked it into her work bag. Work was just going to have to come with her for mimosas and charcuterie boards.