The new day at the office came wrapped in confidence, heat, and silent challenges.
Mira walked in wearing a backless black satin dress that clung to her like a second skin—flawless, daring, and undeniably distracting. Her heels clicked against the marble floors with grace, her hair pinned in an elegant bun, leaving her long neck exposed. She knew the eyes on her weren't just because she was the CEO—today, she was a walking temptation.
Next to her, Jerry was the perfect contrast—broad-shouldered, tall, and striking in a tailored charcoal suit, the sleeves rolled just enough to tease her veined forearms. Her jawline sharp, her black dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, exposing the faintest hint of her collarbone. Her dark brown hair was slicked back, her walk slow and powerful.
Together, they looked like a dangerous secret.
The elevator was already full when they arrived, as usual. Staff stood packed tight, but when Jerry stepped in, the crowd instinctively shifted. She pulled Mira in with her and guided her into the corner, positioning herself like a human shield in front of her wife. Mira's back pressed lightly against the cool metal wall while Jerry stood guard—silent, imposing, untouchable. But Mira had other plans.
She reached out slowly, fingers curling around Jerry's wrist. Jerry looked down with a questioning glance, but before she could say anything, Mira pulled her close—softly but firmly—wrapping her arms around Jerry's waist and burying her face in her neck.
Jerry's breath caught. "Mira," she warned under her breath, "this elevator has security cameras—"
But then Mira's warm lips brushed her neck.
A groan slipped from Jerry's throat, low and ragged.
"Ahh… Jerry…" Mira moaned softly near her ear—just enough for Jerry to hear, her breath hot and teasing. "You're so warm…"
Jerry's body tensed like a bowstring. Her hand flew to Mira's exposed back, fingers sliding down the bare skin like instinct. "Mira," she growled, "you're playing with fire. Don't tease me."
Mira bit her bottom lip and smirked.
"That's not fair, Mrs. Kingston," Jerry murmured darkly, trying to hold herself together as her wife's lips brushed slowly up the curve of her neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
"What?" Mira whispered back, eyes gleaming with mischief. "You said to act like your wife."
She leaned in and deliberately licked Jerry's neck—down to up, slow and hot.
Jerry's jaw clenched. Her hand slid lower, fingers brushing just above the dip at the base of Mira's spine. "Mira," she warned again, her voice rough now, strained with restraint. "One more move and I swear, I'll lock the office door and give you a memory no backless dress will hide."
Mira's heart thundered.
Just as Jerry began to lower her lips toward Mira's, determined to make her point, Mira suddenly placed both hands on her shoulders and pushed gently. "Not so fast," she whispered, breathless, cheeks flushed. "You'll wrinkle my dress."
Jerry arched a brow, lips hovering barely a breath from hers. "You're lucky the elevator is stopping."
Ding.
The elevator doors slid open, revealing their office floor. Employees began filing out, completely unaware of the smoldering tension that had been burning in the corner behind them.
Jerry stood tall again, adjusting her shirt like nothing happened, though her smirk betrayed her. Mira stepped out beside her, her posture calm, collected… until Jerry leaned in just enough to whisper:
"Break room. Ten minutes. Keep that back exposed."
Mira almost tripped in her heels.
The elevator doors slid open, revealing their office floor. Employees began filing out, completely unaware of the smoldering tension that had been burning in the corner behind them.
Jerry stood tall again, adjusting her shirt like nothing happened, though her smirk betrayed her.
The second Mira stepped out of the elevator, her legs wobbled slightly—not from the heels, but from the burning echo of Jerry's voice in her ear: "Break room. Ten minutes. Keep that back exposed."
She could barely breathe. How did Jerry always know how to wreck her with just a whisper?
Mira tried focusing on work, but every file blurred together. Her mind spun with the memory of Jerry's hand on her bare back, the groan in her throat, the way she'd said "I'll lock the office door…" like a dark promise. Mira's heart wouldn't slow down.
Exactly ten minutes later, her phone buzzed.
Jerry:
"Now."
Mira stood from her chair so fast her assistant blinked at her. "Everything alright, ma'am?"
"I—uh, yes. Just… caffeine."
She hurried down the hall, passing offices, ignoring the way her back felt exposed under curious gazes. The moment Mira stepped into the break room, her heart began thundering inside her chest. The door clicked shut behind her—and locked. She didn't have to turn around to know it was Jerry.
That voice, deep and husky, broke the silence.
"You walk in here looking like that, and expect me to stay sane?"
Mira slowly turned, their eyes locking. The tension between them sparked like wildfire.
Jerry's gaze raked down Mira's form with a slow, deliberate hunger. She stalked forward, every step calculated, her presence dominant and charged.
"You're so sexy," Jerry growled, reaching out to grasp Mira's wrists gently but firmly. "You're the first woman who ever made me like this."
Mira smirked, not backing down—ever the tease. She turned, letting her bare back graze against Jerry's chest, the silk of her dress dipping low, exposing her spine. Slowly, deliberately, she bent forward over the table, letting her hips arch just enough to press against Jerry's body. The move was pure temptation.
Jerry groaned low in her throat, bending down to kiss the curve of Mira's back. Soft at first, then more urgently, her lips traced along Mira's spine, leaving a trail of heat. The occasional playful bite left Mira gasping, her hands reaching behind to pull Jerry closer.
"You're driving me insane..." Jerry murmured, flipping Mira gently to sit her on the table. Her eyes dropped between Mira's thighs as she whispered, voice like velvet and danger,
"I think… my dessert is ready."
Mira moaned softly when Jerry's lips moved to her neck, brushing, teasing, trailing down.
Jerry's hands ran up Mira's thighs slowly, reverently, and when Mira arched toward her, whispering Jerry's name like a plea, Jerry finally looked into her eyes.
"Say it, baby," Jerry breathed.
Mira's eyes fluttered open, voice trembling but bold,
"Please, Jerry… I'm your wife… eat me."
A slow, wicked smile curved Jerry's lips. She lowered herself between Mira's legs, kissing along the inside of her thighs—soft, slow, deliberate. Mira's head fell back, her hands tangling in Jerry's silky dark hair, pulling her closer.
Jerry's grip tightened on Mira's hips, grounding her as her mouth moved in deep, hungry devotion. Mira moaned, her body trembling beneath Jerry's skilled touch. The room spun with heat and pleasure as her fingers clawed into Jerry's shoulders.
"Jerry…" she gasped.
But Jerry didn't stop. She moved with rhythm, with passion, her love poured out in every motion, every kiss. She wasn't just hungry—she was starved. And Mira was hers.
Mira's back arched suddenly—pain flashing across her face.
Jerry, lost in her hunger and desire, hadn't realized she'd slipped a finger inside too quickly. She was too focused, too starved, tasting every inch of her wife's sweetness, kissing, licking, savoring every soft moan Mira gave her.
But Mira's breath hitched—not from pleasure, but from the sting of something deeper.
Jerry only noticed when Mira whimpered again, softer this time. She slowed down, looked up—and something in Mira's eyes stilled her.
"Mira…?" she whispered, fingers pausing.
Mira bit her lip, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy with unshed tears—but not from sadness. She gave a shy, fragile nod. "I-It was… my first time."
Jerry's heart stopped.
She pulled back slowly, face still glistening, her lips parted in disbelief. Her voice was low, soft with guilt. "Baby… why didn't you tell me?"
Mira smiled faintly, her fingers caressing Jerry's cheek. "I didn't want you to stop. I… I wanted to be yours. Completely."
Jerry stared at her, overwhelmed by emotion, her lips still tasting of Mira's trust. Slowly, she kissed Mira's forehead, then her lips—deep, raw, worshipful.
"I'm sorry," Jerry whispered between kisses. "I didn't know. But I'll treasure this… always."
Mira giggled weakly, resting her head on Jerry's shoulder. "Well… now you do."
Jerry gave a sheepish grin as she reached for a tissue and wiped her face, still licking her lips with exaggerated satisfaction. "You taste too damn good."
Mira blushed furiously, playfully hitting Jerry's arm. "You're impossible!"
They both started dressing quickly, sharing breathless laughter. Jerry adjusted her vest, then reached for her black blazer resting on the table. Without a word, she draped it gently over Mira's shoulders.
Mira raised an eyebrow. "What's this for?"
Jerry cleared her throat, rubbing the back of her neck.
"Well… I might've left a few love bites."
Mira leaned closer, kissed Jerry's lips softly, and whispered, "I'm your wife. No need to be sorry… think of them as your trademark."
Jerry's eyes darkened, heart melting at Mira's words. "Trademark, huh?"
In response, Mira leaned in and left a bold, rosy lipstick mark on Jerry's neck, just at the collarbone. "Now you're branded too," she teased, eyes gleaming with pride.
They walked back into the office, hand in hand, with that smug post-breakroom glow they couldn't quite hide.
Mira's manager glanced up as she returned. "Back from the breakroom?"
Mira coughed, trying to compose herself. "Yes."
The manager smiled knowingly, then turned slightly. "You know there's a CCTV camera in there, right? Direct feed to Grandpa."
Mira's eyes shot open, her jaw nearly dropping.
At the same time, Jerry entered the room holding two cups of coffee—and nearly choked. "Wait—what?!"
The manager laughed, clearly enjoying their reactions. "Grandpa's calling you two home before the engagement outfit fitting."
Mira's face turned cherry red. She stared at Jerry, mortified.
Jerry, already pink around the ears, turned her face away, muttering, "We're never living this down…"
But even in their embarrassment, they couldn't help smiling. Love was messy, wild, and unpredictable—but it was theirs.