Chapter 77: Against The Glass ***
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.
Her legs were jelly when he helped her sit up. She swayed the second her feet touched the carpet, heels unsteady, and he had to catch her around the waist to keep her from folding.
"Easy," he murmured, voice low. "I’ve got you."
Diana didn’t answer. She just leaned into him, breathing hard, glasses fogged and slightly askew.
Her hair had completely fallen out of its pins now, dark strands sticking to her damp neck and cheeks. She looked nothing like the woman who had greeted him at the door an hour ago.
Ryan kept one arm around her and walked her slowly across the office toward the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The carpet was soft under her heels, but her steps were small and careful, like every muscle in her legs was still recovering.
The tie kept her wrists pinned behind her back, forcing her shoulders back and her chest out. She didn’t fight it. She just let him guide her, shaky and quiet, until they were standing right in front of the glass.
Manhattan stretched out below them, forty-seven floors down.
The city was fully dark now, a glittering sea of lights – yellow windows, red taillights on the avenues, the distant sparkle of the river.
The glass was cold when he pressed her front against it, her tits flattening against the pane through the thin blouse, her cheek turning to rest on the smooth surface. She gasped at the chill.
"Look at that," Ryan said quietly, stepping up behind her. His hands settled on her hips, holding her steady. "Whole city right there. And the only thing looking back at you is your own reflection."
Diana’s eyes lifted.
In the glass she could see herself – clear as a mirror in the low office light.
Sharp suit now completely wrecked. Jacket open, blouse half-unbuttoned, skirt shoved up around her waist, panties still shoved to the side.
Wrists bound behind her back with a man’s silk tie. Cum drying on her inner thigh. Face flushed, lips swollen, glasses crooked on her nose, hair a mess. She looked like someone who had just been used.
And she was staring right at it.
Ryan pressed closer, his chest to her back, cock already hard again and nudging against her ass through his slacks.
"You see her?" he asked, voice low and rough against her ear. "That’s you now. A married woman bent over in her own office, wrists tied, dripping down her legs."
Diana’s breath fogged the glass. "Ryan... someone could see – "
People could be in the other buildings.
"Yeah. They could." He reached around and yanked her panties the rest of the way down, letting them drop to her ankles. "But you’re still not telling me to stop."
He freed himself again, thick and heavy, and rubbed the head along her slick folds from behind.
She was soaked – his cum from earlier mixing with how wet she still was. One slow push and he sank back inside her, all the way to the hilt in one smooth stroke.
Diana moaned loud, forehead pressing harder to the cold glass. Her bound wrists flexed behind her back, silk creaking.
Ryan started moving.
Standing doggy, right up against the window. Deep, powerful thrusts that lifted her onto her toes every time he bottomed out.
The glass vibrated faintly with each snap of his hips. Her tits pressed flat against it, nipples hard through the blouse, the cool surface making her shiver while the heat of his body burned against her back.
"Look at your reflection," he said, voice gritty, one hand fisting in her hair to tilt her head so she had to watch.
Diana whimpered, eyes locked on her own reflection. The city lights glittered behind her, thousands of windows, thousands of possible eyes.
The risk sat heavy in the air, thick and electric. Anyone with binoculars, anyone in a taller building across the street with the right angle – they could see her. The thought made her clench hard around him.
Ryan felt it and groaned. "Oh. You like that, don’t you? Knowing they could be watching. Knowing your husband’s probably sitting at home right now, thinking you’re working late like always. While I’m buried balls-deep in his wife, stretching her out on her own glass wall."
"Don’t say that..."
He picked up the pace, relentless, hips snapping hard. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed in the quiet office.
Every thrust drove her forward, her cheek and tits sliding against the cold glass, leaving smudges of condensation. Her legs shook harder, heels scraping the carpet as she tried to stay upright.
"Tell me," he growled, mouth right at her ear, one hand sliding around to rub her clit in tight, firm circles. "Tell me what your husband would think if he saw you right now. Tied up. Skirt around your waist."
Diana’s voice cracked, breath fogging the glass in rapid bursts. "He’d... hate it...He’d – fuck – Ryan, please – "
"Yeah? That asshole would hate knowing I’m the one making you come like this?" He slammed in deeper, grinding against her ass. "Hate knowing his perfect, professional wife is dripping down her thighs for someone else? That she’s bent over in front of the whole fucking city with her wrists tied and my cock inside her?"
She moaned loud, the sound raw and helpless.
Her reflection showed everything – mouth open, eyes glassy behind the crooked glasses, body jolting with every thrust.
The risk, the shame, the pleasure – it all crashed together and she started coming again, hard. Her thighs clamped, walls pulsing around him, a broken cry fogging the glass as her knees buckled.
Ryan didn’t stop. He held her up, fucking her straight through it, the glass creaking faintly under the pressure of her body. "That’s good."
When the orgasm finally ebbed she was shaking, legs barely holding her.
Ryan slowed just enough to let her breathe, then started again – deep, steady strokes that kept her right on the edge. His hand stayed on her clit, rubbing slow and firm.
The other gripped her hip, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks.
Diana’s forehead rested fully against the glass now, breath coming in shaky sobs. Her reflection stared back – wrecked, flushed, completely undone.