Marcus called again at 5:47 while I was already on the table.
Adrian had walked in twenty minutes early. No greeting. He’d locked the door behind him, pushed the remaining contracts aside in one sweep, and bent me over the edge before I’d even finished pouring the wine I’d opened so the apartment would look normal if Marcus asked later. My skirt was already around my waist. No panties. I’d stopped wearing them on the nights he stayed late. His c**k was buried deep before the first glass was full, f*****g me in slow, heavy thrusts that made the table creak and the wine bottle rock. The stretch was immediate and thick, every inch of him dragging over the place that made my knees want to give. My phone lit up with Marcus’s name against the wood. Adrian reached over without pulling out, answe
