Ryan didn't pull out right away.
He stayed buried deep inside her for another long second, feeling the last weak flutters of her orgasm around him, her legs still trembling where they were locked around his waist.
Diana's chest heaved under the open jacket, her bound wrists pressing awkwardly into the desk beneath her back.
The city lights painted shifting patterns across her flushed skin, across the crooked reading glasses still hanging from the chain on her chest.
Then he eased back, slow, and slipped free. A thick trickle of his cum followed, running down the inside of her thigh and onto the polished wood.
She made a small, shaky sound at the loss.
Ryan straightened up, tucked himself back into his slacks, and looked at her lying there – suit rumpled, skirt bunched around her waist, wrists still tied tight with his silk tie.
