All Work No Play!

Gianna Dior is losing her shit. Their boss just fired off a memo saying nobody can fuck around with coworkers anymore. She thinks their secret is blown, sure she's about to get canned over Autumn. Autumn just laughs it off. Tells her nobody has a damn clue, boss man's gone on some trip, they're bulletproof. Then she grabs Gianna by the hips, drags her close, and starts showing her exactly how they're gonna kill the panic—one slow grind at a time. Autumn's tongue works down Gianna's neck while her hands slide under her shirt, cupping, teasing, working fast and filthy. Gianna's back hits the wall. Her legs spread. Autumn drops lower, pulls aside soaked panties, and buries her mouth between those slick folds like she's starving. Tongue lashes fast, fingers slide deep, two then three, pumping and curling while Gianna whimpers and claws at her hair. They're not stopping till the stress is gone and Gianna's coming apart, legs shaking, dripping down Autumn's wrist.