The buzzer on Erica’s hip vibrated, a sharp, insistent hum against her bone. 1230. The numbers glowed on the pager’s small screen, and a slow, secret smile touched her lips. The entire monotonous morning suddenly had a purpose, a thrilling destination. Every tedious task she completed - restocking the stationary aisle, straightening up the toy section - was just a step closer to her reward. A familiar, hot coil of anticipation tightened low in her belly. With every stride across the slick, polished floor, she could feel the faint, slick evidence of her building excitement, a growing dampness that her short dress did little to conceal.

The final hour dragged, each minute stretching into an eternity. But then, finally, it was time. Erica hurried through the remaining tasks she needed to complete prior to her lunch break, her movements efficient and swift, and practically flew out the store's rear entrance. The walk to her apartment felt both infinitely long and incredibly short. Once inside, she rushed to the bathroom to freshen up, apply a dab of the perfume he loved behind her ears and between her breasts. The rule echoed in her mind.

She slipped out of her plain cotton panties, holding them for a moment. A dark, damp patch marked the fabric. A fresh rush of heat flooded her at the sight. She left them on the bathroom floor and proceeded downstairs, her heart hammering against her ribs. The door was already ajar. She pushed the door slightly open and knocked on the door frame.

Rich was there instantly, at the doorway. His expression was different today - dark, possessive, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. He didn't say a word. His hand snapped out, curling around Erica's arm, and he pulled her flush against him. He left a mere breath of space between their mouths. The sudden contact sent a jolt straight through her core. He smelled of clean sweat and cedar - so masculine, so him. She could only imagine what she smelled like to him: want, pure and simple.

He lowered his head, his lips not finding hers but instead tracing a searing path down the side of her neck. A violent shiver wracked her body. Then to the slope of her shoulder, his teeth grazing the skin there. Her head fell back with a soft, yielding sigh. His right hand, rough and calloused from work, slid from her arm down to her thigh. The touch was electric through the thin material of her short dress. He began to slowly gather the fabric, inching it upward, all while his dark eyes held hers prisoner.

His left hand remained firmly on the small of her back, anchoring her to him. His right hand worked its way higher, past her knee, over the trembling muscle of her thigh. The humid air of the apartment hit her bare skin. Then, his fingertips found her. Not there, not yet. He gently grazed the outer folds of her pussy, and her entire body jolted as if struck by lightning. A low, ragged moan escaped her. He chuckled, a deep, dark sound, and began to circle her entrance. So wet. So ready for him. She was gushing, her slickness coating his probing fingers.

Suddenly, the sound of his neighbor's door opening and closing echoed in the courtyard outside. Instead of pulling Erica inside, Rich tells her "Bend over. Now." The command was low, guttural, leaving no room for question. Her mind went blank, consumed by a need to obey, to please. She leaned forward, bracing her hands on his broad shoulders. He didn't hesitate, and hiked her short dress up to her waist, exposing her bare ass and her glistening open pussy, to the world. She didn't care. Shame was a distant concept, drowned out by a roaring need.

The neighbor, a slightly older gentleman, walked by. Rich motioned to him with his head. "Look at that," he said, his voice thick with pride and power. "Look at this beautiful, wet pussy waiting for me."

She buried her face in her arm, but a thrill, dark and delicious, shot through her. The neighbor looked. She heard his sharp intake of breath, then a low, appreciative chuckle. A muttered, "Lucky man," and then his footsteps receded.

Rich's hands were on Erica again, gentler now, guiding her down to her knees on the welcome mat. He unbuckled his belt, the clink of the metal deafening in the tense silence. He didn't need to say another word. Her hands, trembling slightly, went to his jeans, fumbling with the button and zipper. She pulled them down, just enough. His cock sprang free, thick and painfully hard, the head flushed a deep red. She leaned forward and without preamble, engulfed him.

"Fuck," he grunted, the sound ripped from his chest. His hand tangled in her hair, not forcing, just holding.

She started to suck him, finding a rhythm, her tongue swirling around the head before taking him deep. Just then, another set of footsteps approached. A young man this time. Rich's grip in her hair tightened slightly, and he guided her head forward, fucking her mouth in short, deep thrusts. The young man passed by, and Rich held Erica there, his throbbing member buried deep in her throat. She heard a sudden gasp of wow and excitement from the young man, which made her suck Rich harder, her own moans vibrating around his shaft. After a short pause, the footsteps hurried away.

Rich was ready. Erica was molten. He pulled her up from her knees, his eyes blazing. "You know where to go."

She went to his solid oak dining table, her legs barely supporting her. She reached down grabbing the hem of her short dress, and pulled it up and over her head in one fluid motion, tossing it aside then removed her bra releasing her full heavy breasts. Exposed, naked, her curves - all for Rich to see. She gently held her breasts, tweaking her nipples until they were hard. A light moan ensued. She then moved her hand down until the warmth of her pussy could be felt, circled the folds of her entrance, then inserted a finger, then two deep inside. Rich's eyes widened with lust as Erica let out another moan. She then removed her fingers and tasted her juices. She was ready. Erica turned-around, bent over the smooth, cool wood of the table, spreading her legs wide, presenting herself to him. Her pussy was his. She was his.

She heard him step behind her, leaving the front door wide open. The thought of being on display, of being seen as his possession, sent another gush of wetness between her legs. She felt the blunt, hot head of his cock brush against her ass cheeks, slick with her own arousal. It nudged lower, seeking, and then found her soaking entrance. She held her breath.

Then he was in her. One long, deep, perfect thrust that stole the air from her lungs. A guttural gasp was all she could manage. He filled her completely, his girth stretching her in the most exquisite way. He began to move, a slow, rhythmic pounding that quickly built in intensity. Each withdrawal was agony, each deep, hard plunge sent shattering waves of pleasure through her. Her skin was on fire. The wet, slapping sound of their bodies meeting filled the room, mixing with her ragged moans and his low, animalistic grunts.

Her world narrowed to the feeling of him - hard, deep, claiming her. Her pussy clenched around him, trying to pull him deeper with every thrust. He sped up, his pace becoming frantic, brutal, magnificent. She could feel the delicious friction as he pistoned in and out, his rough hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises she would cherish tomorrow.

She could feel him swell inside her, the telltale sign. His rhythm became erratic, frantic. "I'm gonna fill you up," he growled, his voice strained.

On one last, devastating thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and held there. A raw, guttural roar tore from his throat as he came. She felt the hot, pulsing rush of his release deep inside her, jet after jet flooding her core. Her own climax crashed over her in a silent, breathless wave, her inner muscles milking him, squeezing every last drop from him as he throbbed within her.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing. The mood gradually softened, the intense energy receding. She slowly stood, her legs feeling like jelly. They looked at each other, a world of unspoken understanding and primal satisfaction passing between them. As she began to gather her dress, he spoke, his voice low and commanding again.

"Hold my cum in your pussy. Don't let it out. You bring it back to me after your shift, and I'll knock off an additional hundred."

She met his gaze, a slow, wicked smile spreading across her face. She nodded, a single, definitive motion of acceptance. Erica put her bra and pulled her dress back on - no panties - and feeling the warm, wet evidence of their union already starting to seep out, a constant, thrilling reminder. Her lunch break was over and needed to get back. She walked back to the store, a new, secret heat blooming within her.

The humid afternoon air clung to Erica's skin as she walked back to work, each step a tantalizing reminder. His reminder. A slick, warm trickle escaped her, tracing a path down her inner thigh. A jolt of pure, illicit thrill shot through her. She didn't try to stop it; she savored it. After the brief walk, she reached the rear entrance of the store, quickly headed to the employee restroom, lifted up her short dress, and swiped her fingers between her legs, collecting the evidence of their passion. She brought her glistening fingertips to her lips, tasting his salty, musky essence with a soft, closed-mouth smile before wiping her hand on her dress. This is mine. This secret. This heat.

The rest of Erica's shift passed in a dizzying, breathless haze. Stocking shelves, checking-in deliveries, and helping customers - every mundane action was underpinned by the profound, physical awareness of the load Rich deposited deep within her. She felt swollen, full, claimed. With every movement, a fresh, warm droplet would threaten to escape, and she'd subtly tighten her inner muscles, a secret exercise in obedience. Don't let it out. His command was a constant, thrilling echo in her mind, a direct line to the pulsating need between her legs. She was a vessel, carrying his pleasure back to him, and the power of that simple, degrading fact made her feel more alive than she had in years.

Finally, mercifully, her shift ended. She didn't bother changing. She clocked out and walked straight out the rear entrance, her pace quickening with every step. The sun was lower now, casting long shadows. The excitement that had simmered all afternoon was now a rolling boil. She was going back for more. Back to him.

His apartment door was, as she somehow knew it would be, already ajar. An invitation. A command. She pushed it open and stepped inside, the familiar scent of his cologne and their prior coupling hitting her like a physical force.

Rich was standing by the window, silhouetted against the fading light. He turned slowly, his dark eyes immediately dropping to the hem of her dress, as if he could see the treasure she carried for him. He didn't smile. His expression was one of intense, predatory satisfaction.

"You're back," he stated, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her. It wasn't a question.

She simply nodded, her throat too tight for words.

"Show me," he commanded, his gaze unwavering. "Show me you obeyed."

Her hands trembled slightly as she gathered the fabric of her simple work dress. She lifted it, slowly, up over her thighs, her hips, until the damp, naked apex of her thighs was exposed to his scrutiny. The air in the room felt cool against her wet, sensitive skin.

He took two steps forward, closing the distance. He didn't touch her yet. He simply looked, his eyes drinking in the sight. He knelt before her, his big, rough hands coming to rest on her hips, holding her in place. He leaned in close, his warm breath ghosting over her swollen flesh.

"It's still there," she whispered, her voice husky. "I kept it for you, Rich."

A low, approving growl escaped him. "I can see that. I can smell it. My scent all over you." He pressed his face against her, inhaling deeply. The coarse stubble on his cheek scratched delicately at her inner thigh, making her jump. Then his tongue, flat and hot, lashed out for a long, slow, possessive lick from her entrance all the way up to her clit.

She cried out, her legs buckling. His grip on her hips tightened, holding her upright. Oh god. The sensation was electric, a direct contrast of the rough and the smooth, his aggressive claim on a body already humming from his previous possession.

"Taste yourself," he murmured against her, his voice muffled by her flesh. "Taste us mixed together." Rich stood up and kissed Erica on the lips ensuring she tasted their essence on his lips and tongue. He went back down to her pussy, and his tongue delved deeper, fucking her with it, lapping up the combined wetness that had seeped out during her shift. He was reclaiming what was his, and the sheer animalistic dominance of the act made her clit throb with an almost painful need.

He stood up abruptly, his own arousal a prominent, demanding bulge in his jeans. "On the table. Now. I want to see all of you."

She practically stumbled to the wooden dining table, scrambling onto its smooth surface. She lay back, her dress rucked up around her waist, her legs falling open in shameless invitation. The door was still open, the world just a few feet away. She didn't care. Let them see.

He undid his jeans, freeing his erection. It was already rock-hard, glistening at the tip. He gripped himself, stroking slowly as he looked down at her splayed body. "This pussy belongs to me," he stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. "And I'm going to fill it up again. I'm going to pump every last drop of what's left of me out of you and replace it with a fresh load."

He positioned himself at her entrance. She was so wet, so ready, so stretched and sensitized from before. He didn't push in slowly. He drove into her with one single, powerful thrust that stole the air from her lungs. Oh, god, yes! He was so deep, so incredibly there, his thickness stretching her perfectly, rubbing against every hyper-aware nerve ending.

He set a ruthless, pounding rhythm from the very start, his hands gripping her thighs, holding her open for his use. Each thrust was a jolt of pure sensation, a masterful piston driving her higher and higher. Her earlier climax felt like a faint memory compared to the avalanche of pleasure building inside her now.

"You feel that?" he grunted, his rhythm never faltering. "You feel me stirring up my own cum inside you? Making room for more?"

She could only moan in response, a continuous, breathy sound of ecstasy. She could feel it, the slick, hot mess he was churning within her, the incredible friction of his cock gliding through their combined wetness. Her hands flew to her own breasts, pinching and pulling at her nipples, adding to the overwhelming sensory storm.

He leaned over her, bracing himself on the table, and his pace became even more frantic, more desperate. "I'm gonna add to it," he promised, his voice a harsh rasp in her ear. "I'm gonna flood you. You're going to walk out of here dripping for the rest of the night."

The promise, the sheer vulgarity of it, was what sent her careening over the edge. Her orgasm exploded through her, a silent, seizing, utterly devastating wave that clenched around him, milking his length, pulling the release from him.

He groaned, a deep, soul-deep sound of satisfaction, and buried himself to the hilt. She felt the hot, pulsing rush as he came, jet after jet joining the mess he'd already made of her. It felt even hotter, even more abundant than before. He collapsed slightly over her, his weight a comforting pressure.

After a moment, he pushed himself up, looking down at the scene. She was a wreck, blissed out and breathless, his seed already beginning to seep out from around where they were still joined.

He smoothed a hand over her stomach, a surprisingly tender gesture. "Good girl," he murmured.