Work Text:
The holiday party was in full swing when Carson arrived, slightly late and entirely begrudgingly. She stepped out of the elevator into the lobby of her office. The entire floor had been decked out in holidays trappings and the large open space was filled with various partygoers, most with a beverage in hand, chatting and mingling.
She returned a wave from Clance in accounting, who had caught her eye as she made a beeline for the bar. Guy was at her side, and they were both chatting politely with the head of sales. Max wasn’t with her, and after dragging Carson to this party, she had better be around somewhere.
She fidgeted with her sleeves as she waited in line for the bar. She was wearing black slacks with her favorite loafers, a white button down and a red blazer. At the last moment, before leaving her apartment, she had thrown on a thin black necktie. She was comfortable, but festive enough.
She scanned the room, looking for Max, looking for – no, they hadn’t discussed if they were both planning to attend. Better not to focus on it.
“Martini, please, extra dirty” she said to the bartender, and took a grateful sip as she navigated away from the crowd. At least there was an open bar.
She perched herself off to the side of the room, leaned back on one of the desks along the wall. She was grateful that her department had an actual office – these open floor plans made her nervous. She had gotten this job at the large publishing firm when she moved to the city. Knowing Max had helped, they had been friends in college, both majoring in Computer Science, both playing on the university’s baseball team.
She liked the work, writing software for the company’s various online platforms. Her office was dark and quiet, lit by the glow of multiple computer monitors and thrumming with the hum of processors. There were three others who worked alongside her, Max included, and they had a silent, comfortable comradery between them. Well, Max was never silent, Carson mused. She was sure their other colleagues were cozied up in their respective houses right now – but Max had insisted they come to the festivities tonight. “It’s good – to be seen out and about, Carson.” she had said, “You never talk to anyone at work. Maybe you can meet a few people.”
Pulling her phone from her pocket, she glanced at the screen. Nothing. She shot off a text quickly. You better not be standing me up.
She felt the welcome buzz in reply moments later. In the back. Talking to Es. Join us.
Esther worked in sales, and she and Max had been spending more and more time together in recent months. Carson wound her way through the office, smiling and nodding at those she recognized. She had just spotted Max, braced casually against the floor to ceiling windows leading to one of the larger conference rooms, when she froze. Max was talking to Ester. But she had failed to mention, likely on purpose, that they were also in the company of one Greta Gill.
Carson couldn’t help but stare at her. She was wearing a dress that could only be described as sinful - red and lacy with a deep V down the front and another up the side. Hardly modest for an office party, though Greta rarely troubled herself with reticence. It was one of the things Carson liked about her. Her red hair rolled in soft curls over her shoulder, her lips were painted in the exact shade of her dress. Hand wrapped around a glass of wine, she was laughing along with Max, loud, but utterly captivating.
Carson took a few clumsy steps backwards. She bumped into someone, quickly muttering an apology before she tucked herself into a small alcove in the wall. Her martini was gone in a few rushed gulps.
Greta, the so called “darling of HR,” had worked for the company before Carson started. On her first day, it had been Greta, dressed in a pinstripe suit over a lace camisole - an outfit that almost caused Carson to spit out the water she’d been drinking - who greeted her in the lobby. She had pulled her into her office and spent the next two hours reviewing payroll, health insurance, 401ks, and company policy. Her chair just a little too close to Carson’s, the occasional brush of fingers on her wrist. Carson still wasn’t sure what healthcare she had opted for.
She had thought it was just her disposition – and she was flirty, always ready with a wink and a laugh, walking circles around the executive higher-ups. But she was careful with her personal space. Carson had witnessed it, how she deftly maneuvered her body, subtly redirected people with a gesture. She had tried not to, but when Greta was around - somehow her eyes were always drawn to her.
And then about three months ago now, a month after she started, Greta had wandered innocently into her office one afternoon. Max was unfazed, but the others - and she had to embarrassingly include herself in that – had sat up just a bit straighter.
Her officemate, Vernon, had stumbled over his offer to help her, but she sauntered purposefully to Carson’s desk, leaned over her just slightly.
“Carson Shaw,” she had said, and the way her name had rolled of her tongue felt like a caress. She had tried to greet her, but her mouth was quite suddenly devoid of saliva.
She had bent over Carson’s desk, hand just beside hers where it gripped her computer mouse, much too tightly. “I do fear I’m having just an awful time with my computer today. Could I trouble you do take a look?”
Carson had nodded, already started to stand, when Max chimed in from beside her, “This is not the IT department, Gill.”
“It’s – it’s okay,” Carson had said in a rush, her voice gravelly and strained, then added more easily, “I don’t mind. Those IT guys can be hard to track down.”
Greta had beamed at her. And Carson had punched Max in the shoulder as she followed her out of the room.
Greta’s office was private; the perks of being senior level HR and often having to field sensitive meetings. It was warmer than the stark modernism of the rest of the floor. There was an area rug, splashes of color on the walls, and far too many plants.
Carson had crossed immediately to the computer and sat down; hands posed on the keyboard. “What’s the issue you’re having?” she’d asked over her shoulder.
“It’s been freezing on me all morning,” Greta said vaguely.
Carson started running an anti-viral scan, focused on the screen until Greta’s voice came again, this time much closer. “And I’ve been trying to print some documents. Can’t get it to work.”
“That’s probably a network issu—” Carson had spun towards her in the chair, should have looked first. Greta was directly behind her and from Carson’s position sitting down, the chair had placed her almost perfectly at – well, chest level.
She had sputtered and scooted the chair back quickly, bumping into Greta’s desk and knocking one of the aforementioned plants to the floor. “Fuck!” she had said, jumping up. At least she hadn’t broken the pot – she hurriedly scooped the dirt back in around the roots and stood up, holding the plant out to Greta as an offering. “Umm, sorry about that.”
Greta had cocked an eyebrow at her; amusement playing at her lips. She stepped closer, brushing some dirt off the lapels of her jacket. “Do I make you nervous, Shaw?”
Carson had blushed, because yes she did, and Carson wasn’t used to being so undone. Her eyes had darted around, anywhere but Greta’s face, Greta’s red red lips. The virus scan had finished, and she sighed gratefully as she turned back to the computer. “Okay – so um, no viruses. Good, good. I’m just going to do a hard reboot of your system. Then I’ll disconnect and reconnect the printer. Hope-Hopefully that’ll square things away.” Her hands flew across the keyboard.
Greta was next to her again, Carson had felt the warmth of her at her shoulder, could smell her perfume. “Thanks, Carson,” she whispered, “Guess we all need a hard reboot now and then.”
Carson stomach had flipped, and she swore she almost let out a groan. “H-happy to help,” she had said as she stood, letting a hand reaching out to graze Greta’s hip as she pivoted around her.
Bashful confidence was how Max had described her way with women, at the bar or occasional club. But she was out of her element here, at work, caught between professionalism and casual boldness.
She had walked to the door, closed she noted, and smirked sightly. She turned around before opening it.
“Have a drink with me,” she had said, and Greta’s eyes widened, just slightly, before an unholy grin spread across her face.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
***************
And thus had begun the most incredible sex Carson had ever had in her life. Greta was a livewire, buzzing and hot. That first night, one drink had turned into two, Greta’s hand warm on her knee under the bar. They had ended up in a cab, stumbling into Carson’s apartment, lips fused, and had barely made it to the couch before Carson was three fingers deep inside her, pencil skirt around her waist, the heal of her boot digging into Carson’s hip.
The next week, Greta had flashed her a look across the conference room table, and that night she found herself spread open on Greta’s bed, red hair bobbing between her legs, coming undone under Greta’s tongue.
And since then, every week or so, they found themselves together in the evenings. Sometimes a cab directly from work, desire crackling between them. Other times, they would grab a drink, alone or with others, but always skipping out, hands clasped tightly.
To say Carson was enjoying herself would be an understatement. Even when they weren’t together, her mind burned with Greta. Catching her eye at work always sent pleasant sparks down her spine. Hearing her voice across the room made her stomach clench, echoes of her breathy gasps - faster, so good, harder - ringing in her ears.
But other than surface information and mind-blowing sex, Greta was a mystery. She knew where she lived, but not where she was from. That she loved the color red, New York in the rain, and had a soft spot for her neighbor’s black cat. Nothing from her past, no thoughts about her future. Greta was living and breathing present.
It suited Carson alright; she wasn’t opposed to casual. But Greta had slowly grown to inhabit more and more space inside her. Recently Carson found herself with more questions on the tip of her tongue; having to bite them back. Why she had A Tree Grows in Brooklyn on her bedside table, always. What she liked for breakfast. What movie she watched when she was lonely.
It had been foolish to think Greta wouldn’t be at this party, and no real reason they would have discussed it beforehand. Carson could handle it; she just needed a minute to collect herself. She ordered another martini from the bar, then straightened her tie, so glad she had made at least some effort with her outfit now.
She made her way towards Max and the others, threading her way through the crowd. She was a few yards away when Greta tracked her, eyes intent on her face, before traveling slowly down her body. Carson blushed in spite of herself, and Greta’s answering grin was wicked.
“Hey there,” Carson said, aiming for nonchalance as she slid into their small circle, positioning herself at Max’s side. “Maximillian, Ester… G-Greta.” She cursed the way she stumbled over her name slightly. She took a large swallow of her drink.
“You made it,” Max answered with a grin, bumping her hip amicably.
“As if I had a choice,” Carson said lowly under her breath, but smiled just the same.
“You clean up nice, Shaw,” came Greta’s voice, sultry and sweet as sugar, red lips closing over the lip of her wine glass. Her eyebrows were raised, mirth dancing in her eyes.
“Oh, uh, thanks,” she said, “And you, you too– that dress - you look…well, I think it’s safe to say that no one is looking at me.”
Smooth, she thought, rolling her eyes. But Greta only smiled, throwing a wink her way. “Sweet of you to say,” she said easily, then looking at her glass. “I need a refill. Anyone?”
Max and Ester shook their heads. Carson was too focused on keeping her gaze neutral and certainly not on the deep cut of Greta’s dress.
Greta slipped by her, too closely not to be purposeful, her chest brushing against Carson’s arm, burning a hole straight through her suit jacket. Then a low whisper in her ear “Sarge’s office. 5 minutes.”
Beverley Dale, affectionately nicknamed Sarge, was the company CEO. Carson knew she had been called out town on urgent business yesterday, as she had apologized to everyone for having to miss the party. What she did not know, however, was that Greta had a key to her office. Though, also she couldn’t say she was surprised.
Thankfully Max seemed to have missed the exchange between her and Greta, too caught up with Ester. She chatted with them for a few minutes – commentary, office gossip, before excusing herself to the restroom.
She slipped into the stairwell quietly, discreetly. The entire office took up the better part of three floors, with most of sales and editing on the main floor. Sarge’s office was up one level. Carson burned at the thought that Greta might have chosen it for the fact that it was more private.
The large wooden door was closed, but a soft turn to the ornate handle revealed it to be unlocked. Carson stepped inside, eyes adjusting to the dim light. She had never been in the CEO’s office before. There were large bookshelves on the back wall; presumably filled with the company’s varied publications. In front of them sat a large mahogany desk. The left wall was nearly all windows, the bright skyline of Manhattan shone against the night sky. There was a seating area to the right, a couch flanked by two armchairs.
Any other adornments or details went unnoticed, as Carson’s eyes landed on Greta. Perched on the arm of one the chairs, long legs stretched out, crossed delicately at the ankle. She stood at Carson’s entrance, a soft smile gracing her face.
Carson stepped backwards, effectively closing the door with her body. Her gaze lingered on Greta, felt fire welling low in her stomach, willed her closer.
Knowingly or not, Greta obliged, crossing to stand in front of her. Her hands found the lapels of her jacket, open palms smoothing over Carson’s shoulders, down her chest. She reached out for Carson’s tie, winding it around her hand and pulling her forward slightly.
Carson’s head tipped up, lips meeting Greta’s who was already bending to close the distance between them. Her mouth was warm, tasted of mint and red wine. Carson felt her back hit the door again as Greta stepped into her, heard the turn of the lock as she bolted the door.
Carson’s hands found Greta’s waist, the lace soft on her palms and she bunched the fabric between her fingers. One hand danced down Greta’s leg, fingers lightly toying with the slit of her dress. The other snaked around, sliding over the swell of her ass, pulling her closer still.
Greta hummed against her lips, “Mmm, Shaw,” she breathed between kisses, lips hot and insistent on hers. Carson couldn’t get enough of her, mind already burning with thoughts of flipping their positions, taking her hard and fast against the door. But before she could act, Greta palms returned to the collar of her suit coat, gripping it softly and easing her backwards.
A soft whine left Carson’s throat as their lips parted, and Greta smirked at her. “I like you eager, Shaw,” she murmured low in the air between them, and Carson felt her face flush with heat. She took a breath, shakier than she wanted, as she tried to reign in the beating of her heart. Greta was gorgeous, cheeks tinged with pink, lips red and swollen from their kisses. Her hair fell in cascades down her shoulders, and Carson couldn’t help it as she reached up to thread her fingers gently through the soft strands.
“You look beautiful tonight,” Carson said, and her pulse thrummed with the words, teetering on the edge of tenderness, something that Carson wasn’t sure would be welcome.
But Greta smiled, eyes shining with fondness as she brushed her lips over Carson’s briefly. She took a step back as if to study her. “You are pretty handsome yourself,” she said, one hand reaching to trace a finger over her belt buckle. “I am…strongly in favor of this suit.”
Carson thought she saw a shiver pass through her as she turned and walked to the desk, hips swinging in a way that could only be purposeful. She stopped, back still to Carson, fingers resting lightly on the shiny wood.
“Nice office,” Carson said, taking a few steps into the space. “You have a key.” Neither a statement nor a question.
“HR perk,” said Greta, turning around, leaning back against the desk. “Besides, Sarge likes me.” She winked.
“Perk…” Carson said lightly, “abuse of power…” she smirked.
“Are you complaining?”
“Most definitely not,” Carson answered. She was directly in front of her now. Leaned forward slightly to rest her hands on either side of her, trapping her against the large piece of furniture. Shyness crossed her face for moment, “Is this okay?”
Greta scratched her abs lightly over her button down. “More than.”
Carson’s lips moved to shoulder, tracing soft open-mouthed kisses from her collar bone up her neck. Greta’s head tipped languidly to the side, a sharp breath leaving her lips as Carson’s tongue traced the skin just behind her ear.
Carson smiled against her. She had discovered this particular weakness a few weeks ago during an epic make-out session in the bathroom of a bar down the street. Greta had keened when her lips found the spot, and when her mouth had closed around it, sucking gently, Greta had pulled her quickly out of the bathroom, the bar, and into a cab to her apartment.
“And what was wrong with your office?” Carson said against her skin, teeth ghosting the shell of her ear, biting down slightly to pull on the lobe.
Greta’s office was just down the hall; and while they generally made it a rule not to fall into this type of thing at work, they were guilty of sharing a few rushed kissed behind her closed door, when desire got the better of them.
“Mmmm, well, it’s Christmas,” Greta said in a moan, both hands were threaded in Carson’s hair now, pulling her closer. Carson’s had one hand out, bracing them both against the desk, the other splayed across Greta’s lower back. “And uh, your present is in here.”
Carson pulled back slightly, eyes lingering on the emerging mark at Greta shoulder where her lips had been. “My present?” Carson said quizzically, thinking perhaps she misheard given the fog of arousal in her head.
Greta’s eyes were hooded, her pupils blown wide as she shifted her gaze to the couch. Carson’s tracked hers, noting a box on the end table that she had missed when she first came in.
Carson stuttered at the sudden shift in events, “Oh, I –”
She had thought about buying Greta something, endlessly in fact, over the past few weeks. But her mind couldn’t land on anything appropriate. So many things seemed too impersonal, and others far too meaningful for what they were supposed to be to each other. Only this past weekend, her eyes had caught on a delicate gold necklace at her favorite vintage shop, a small ruby nestled at the center. It had reminded her of Greta’s lips, always so red. But jewelry? That seemed a bit…much. Still, she had bought the necklace anyway, not able to stop picturing it on Greta’s neck; it was now tucked in her nightstand.
“I don’t, I mean, I didn’t bring -” Carson continued, flustered, until mercifully Greta cut her off with a soft touch of her fingertips to her lips.
“Hush, Shaw,” Greta whispered, lips catching Carson’s in a teasing kiss. “This gift – well, you’ll see – open it.” Greta winked, her eyes dancing, with mischief, with fire, and with something else that Carson couldn’t quite name.
“O-Okay,” Carson said, slightly wary, but willing to play along. She crossed to the table and dropped onto the couch. Greta, she noted, stayed glued to the desk.
The package was simply wrapped - red paper, of course – and Carson pulled lightly at the tape around the edges. Under the paper was a white box, non-descript. She lifted the lid, and seeing the contents of the box, her eyes widened, shooting to Greta who was watching her with raised eyebrows, lips drawn up, almost in a challenge.
Carson was immediately transported back two weeks. It had been a rainy Saturday; one of those early December days when New York couldn’t decide what season it was supposed to be inhabiting. It was rare that they saw each other on weekends, usually taking advantage of circumstance, so often together during the work week. But Greta had texted, and Carson had gone willingly, pulling on her rainboots and taking the train downtown to Greta’s apartment.
Greta had greeted her with wine, which honestly, didn’t make it any more date-like than any of their other encounters had been. But it had felt different. Greta had been in jeans and a soft sweater, her feet bare – so different from her polished exterior at work. It had felt more…intimate.
And the sex had been – fuck. Carson hadn’t been able to keep her hands off her ass in those jeans, and then without the jeans, Greta straddling her on the couch, riding her fingers as Carson sucked firmly on her breasts. And then later, when they made it to the bedroom, Greta on her side with one leg propped up, Carson glued to her back as she fucked her fingers into her from behind, mouth latched to that spot behind her ear.
“Oh, god, Carson,” she had said, and Carson had felt the fluttering of her inner walls as she climbed higher. Greta had thrust her hips back hard into Carson’s hand, her own fingers rubbing furiously at her clit, “just, harder, please, harder.”
Carson had flipped her then, coming to rest between her thighs, pressing her hips against her hand to strengthen her thrusts. Greta’s legs had come up around her hips and Carson had felt almost euphoric in that moment, strong and confident.
“You’re so good, Greta,” she had whispered, loving the small needly sounds Greta was making. “Fuck I love being inside you,” she had curled her finger up slightly, felt more resistance to her thrusts as Greta tightened around her.
Overtaken by the moment, she had stooped low, voice rough in Greta’s ear, “You would look so good, so so good taking a strap for me.” Greta had gasped, eye flying open, her hands hot and needy as they grasped at Carson’s back. “Would you let me fuck you like that?”
“Shit, fuck - yes,” she had managed before her entire frame stiffened and she came long and hard around Carson’s fingers.
But they hadn’t talked more about it; Greta only needing a few moments before she was rolling herself on top of Carson, tongue demanding entrance to her mouth as long fingers made their way lower…lower.
And now - Carson snapped back to the present – now she could feel the heat in her belly growing, the throb between her legs. It certainly wasn’t a necklace. In the box was a strap, deep purple, with an accompanying black harness. And it wasn’t small, she thought as she took it in. She looked over to Greta who had hopped up and was now perched delicately on the desk, heels dangling just above the floor. Her eyes were smoldering.
“Why this office, you ask?” Greta said, and her voice was low and rough, hand sliding seductively over the desk, “Well, Shaw, my desk is hardly suitable. And I want you to fuck me. On this desk, bent over it - I’m not picky.”
Carson was off the couch before she could even tell herself to move; her eyes dark and hungry as she crossed to the desk and pulled Greta into a fierce kiss. Her teeth nipped at her lips, tongue mapping the inside of her mouth as her hands pulled at her waist until she was right at the edge of the desk. She pushed her dress up her hips, enough so she could open Greta’s legs and slot herself between them. Hands traced up her sides and Carson could feel her nipples harden under her dress. She rolled them in her fingers as Greta hands grasped at her hair.
She felt one of Greta’s hands squeeze between their bodies, slipping low and cupping Carson over the seam of her pants. “Mmmm,” she breathed against her lips, trying to string words together amidst bruising kisses, “the uhh,” her other hand gestured towards the couch, “do you want?” Not the most eloquent, but it was the best she could do as Carson captured her lips once more.
Carson’s head was swimming, the urge to be closer to Greta almost primal as she pushed into the heat of her body. She felt Greta’s fingers on her, hard pressure against her clit, and Carson bucked into her hand. She heard Greta’s lips at her ear, soft low words, and she focused on their meaning, pulling back slightly.
“Yes, fuck, yes,” she said, breath coming in short gasps. “But, I -” she shook her head slightly, trying to clear it as she worked to slow her breathing. He hands shifted, resting lightly on Greta’s hips where before they had been rough and needy. Greta saw a bit of brown return to her eyes, only moments before completely eclipsed by her pupils.
“Are – are you sure?” she asked, tone laced with both sincerity and arousal.
Greta smiled at her, her own tumultuous gaze softening as she pushed a lock of hair behind Carson’s ear. She kissed her cheek, whispering softly “So fucking sure, Carson.”
Carson’s grin was sheepish, her head nodding continuously, though only realized it when Greta’s hands framed her face gently. “Why don’t you--” her brows quirked as her gaze lowered meaningful to her belt.
“Right, yes,” Carson stepped back, walked quickly to gather the box in her hands. She looked around, eyes suddenly wide.
“There’s a powder room through that door, if you want” Greta said, gesturing to the wall behind the chairs. “But also,” she continued lowly, “I could help.”
Carson swallowed, certainly not opposed, but feeling a little shaky and untethered. A moment to gather herself would be good.
“I’ll, uh, only be a minute,” Carson said, crossing to the small door. She turned to look at Greta, a more confident smile slipping into place. “Don’t move. Just stay there looking pretty for me.”
Once the door was closed, Carson hands went immediately to her belt. Her slacks dropped to the floor, leaving her only in tight navy boxer briefs. She could already feel the wetness between her thighs. After a moment’s thought, she pulled the briefs off too, knowing she’d need them somewhat salvageable for after.
The harness was simple enough, similar to the one she had at home. The leather felt warm against her bare skin as she threaded the straps through her thighs. She slipped the dildo through the ring, pulling the harness tight against her pelvis. She shifted her hips slightly, testing, feeling the dull pressure on her clit as she pushed down on the shaft. She couldn’t help the small groan that slipped past her lips.
She stepped back into her black pants, pulling them up and trying as best she could to tuck the strap down against her leg. But this certainly wasn’t the type of toy for more subtle packing. Still, she was able to refasten her belt, smoothing her hands down the front of her thighs. There was a small bottle of lube in the box, which she slipped into her pocket.
She chanced a look at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were wide, lips smeared with red from Greta’s. Her hair was mussed from where Greta had grasped it, and she ran a hand over her head in an attempt to straighten it a bit.
When she stepped back into the office, Greta’s eyes were fixed on her immediately, perhaps having never left the door. Her eyes shot quickly down to Carson’s pelvis before returning to her face. She reached out a hand, beckoning her closer.
Greta slid off the desk as she approached, drawing Carson into her until their bodies were pressed tightly together. Carson’s hand slid to cup the back of her neck, drawing her lips down into kiss, soft and slow. Greta’s hands slipped beneath her jacket, curving around her middle and pulling at her shirt to untuck it, warm fingers finding bare skin, pressing into her spine.
Greta canted her hips forward, felt the length of the strap along Carson’s thigh. She groaned against Carson’s lips. Her hand moved downward, gently fisting the dildo though the fabric. “So hard for me.”
Carson let out a choked sound, pushing her hips, and the strap, against Greta’s hand. “Fuck,” she whined, “yes – Greta--” Her lips moved to her neck, tracing hot kisses down until she found her pulse point, closing her lips over it and biting down just hard enough to sting.
She felt a hand at her belt, Greta’s fingers deftly unbuckling it and finding the zipper of her slacks. She drew it downwards, her hand slipping inside, slowly easing the strap out. Her hand tightened around the base, small pumping motions driving Carson wild.
She pushed Greta back into the desk, hands sliding under her dress, urging the fabric up around her hips. Her fingers moved to the inside of her leg, higher to the crease of her thigh, meeting sticky wetness. “Oh god,” she whispered as her fingers pushed against the thin strap of underwear covering damp curls. She pushed past her lips, sinking two fingers into molten heat.
Greta tipped her head back, hot and needy sounds echoing throughout the office. Carson froze momentarily, suddenly realizing that even behind a locked door how easily they could be discovered. She pulled back slightly, head twisting back towards the door. “Are you sure--” she started but was cut off as Greta pulled their mouths back together.
“No one is coming up here,” Greta murmured against her lips, “Sarge is on the other side of the country. The only other offices are HR.” She kissed her again, tongue teasing her bottom lip. But then she pulled back slightly, eyes serious, “But we don’t have to – if you’re worried, or uncomfortable.” She seemed almost shy as she added, “You could come back to mine.”
Carson shook her head, “No no, I don’t – I need,” she stopped. “I trust you.” She kissed her again, voice dipping low as she pressed her lips to her ear, “and I don’t think I can wait that long to be inside you.”
Greta whimpered, hands coming to Carson’s shoulders. Her eyes glanced down at the strap jutting out from her between her legs. “Them’s fighting words, Shaw,” she said, “you better mean it.”
Carson smiled slyly at her, eyes intent as she traced a finger down her chest, into the deep V between her breasts. Her other hand reached for the bottle of lube in her pocket.
“Mmm,” Greta hummed, shifting her weight slightly from side to side. “Don’t think we’re going to need that.” Then her eyes darkened, “But just in case--” she eased Carson away from her slightly, sunk gracefully to her knees in front of her
“Holy, fuck” Carson gasped, and before she could fully process the unexpected scene in front of her, Greta leaned in, closing her lips around the head of the strap. Carson’s hand went to the side of her head, fingers threading gently through her hair, not pushing, but anchoring herself to Greta as she began to pump her mouth up and down on the dildo.
Greta pulled back, pushing Carson’s shirt upwards to nose the soft skin of her abdomen just above the harness, pressing soft kisses to her skin. She moved lower until her tongue was teasing at the base of the strap, tracing it up the shaft. Her hands shifted to Carson’s ass as she pulled her forward, opening her lips and taking her deeper.
“Shit Greta,” Carson said, a wanton groan filling the space around them. The visual alone was heart stopping, but the soft movements of the base against her clit also sent delicious pulses through her core. “You look so hot like this. Taking me so well.”
Carson felt Greta’s nails dig slightly into her skin as they held her lower back, the swell of her ass, and she moaned around the dildo. Her nose was almost to her pelvis now, and Carson could feel the tight resistance of her throat. She was careful to keep her hips still, not wanting to hurt her.
Greta released the strap with a wet pop, saliva evident on the glistening shaft. “Fuck I love your cock, Carson,” Greta growled, and Carson felt something hot turning in her stomach.
“Now stop being so careful and move,” she said as she sunk her mouth back down, taking the strap fully to the hilt. She shifted her hands from Carson’s back to her hips, encouraging her press into her.
Carson’s hand slid to the back of her head, tightening against her hair as she gently experimented with canting her hips forward. Greta’s cheeks were slightly hollowed, and she swallowed around the head of the strap as Carson urged it against the back of her throat. She pulled out slightly and thrust forward again, with more force this time and Greta shifted her head slightly.
“Too much?” Carson asked and received only a frantic shake of Greta’s head in response. She increased the pace of her hips, fucking Greta’s mouth, warm and wet and so so open for her. Her free hand moved to Greta’s cheek, feeling the sucking motions she was making. She couldn’t help press her thumb to the side of her mouth, slipping it past her lips and against her tongue.
Greta pulled back, looked up at Carson with eyes dark and almost pleading. Her breathing was heavy, saliva leaking down from the corner of her lips. She was radiant, and Carson was overcome with the intense need to kiss her. She pulled her upwards at the same time she began to bend down, meeting in the middle, almost tipping over as Carson struggled to maintain her balance. Her hands grasped Greta’s jaw, her mouth hot and pliant against hers.
Greta pulled them upwards, collapsing backwards against the desk as her legs trembled, both from kneeling so long, and the hungry way Carson was claiming her mouth. “Fuck, Shaw – get this dress off me,” she said roughly, and Carson’s hands immediately flew to the zipper at her back, pulling it down in one swift motion. She pushed the straps off her shoulders, lips leaving hers to trace down her chest, nipping at the swell of her breasts.
The dress was bunched around her hips now, and Greta shifted her weight sideways as Carson helped push the garment to the floor. She took a moment to run her eyes over Greta’s lithe body, now clad only in a sheer black bra and lacy underwear. Carson pressed her mouth to her abdomen, then moved to tongue her nipple through the fabric, feeling it tighten under her ministrations.
“So hot, Greta” Carson breathed, “So beautiful.”
“Do you want? Can I--” Greta started, hands moving to Carson’s blazer. Carson nodded her consent, and Greta pushed it off her shoulders. She loosened the tie around her neck, fingers quickly undoing the buttons of her shirt. Her fingers ghosted over the muscles of Carson’s abs, kneaded her breasts though her navy sports bra.
Carson’s hand went to Greta’s sides, coaxing her upwards, back into a sitting position at the edge of the desk. Greta leaned backwards slightly, her own hands supporting her at an angle behind her.
Carson eyes burned into her as her fingers slipped between her legs, into wet folds, circling her entrance. Greta felt a whine building in the back of her throat, nudged her hips forward a bit, which was all the encouragement Carson needed to push two fingers insider her.
“Fuck, yes” Greta said, arching into Carson’s hand. Carson smiled, pulled Greta towards her, pressing her tongue into her mouth in a filthy kiss.
“You’re so wet for me, Greta,” Carson said, lips finding her ear. She eased her fingers out of her, spreading the wetness along the strap, and inched forward, head of the dildo hitting Greta’s clit as she guided it along her slit. “Can’t wait to be deep inside you.”
“Do it,” Greta said, voice tight with need, “Fuck me, Carson…please.”
Carson pressed into her slowly, watching as the shaft disappeared. She felt slight resistance against the flared head, worked her hips gently, allowing Greta to adjust.
“Yes,” Greta keened, “fuck, that’s so good.” Carson increased her pressure, could almost feel the flood of wetness as she worked the strap deeper. Greta opened her legs wider, hooking one around her Carson’s back, heel pressed to her spine. Carson’s hips stuttered, thrusting forward again until she bottomed out inside her, their hips pressed together.
“Holy shit,” she gasped, but didn’t pause long before she started to move, short rolling motions with her hips, pumping inside Greta. She leaned forward, pulling down the cup of Greta’s bra and closing her lips around her nipple, sucking hard. She heard Greta moan above her, noises becoming louder as Carson increased her pace.
“Carson, baby,” she said desperately – “please, I need – harder.”
Carson adjusted her stance, hands more demanding on Greta’s hips as she drew the strap back, almost completely before thrusting back in with more force. The words, noises, leaving Greta’s lips were incomprehensible as Carson continued to fuck into her, abs contracting with the effort to maintain the speed and power of her movements.
Greta had both legs around her now, hips moving in rhythm with hers. Her arms came up to clutch tight around Carson’s shoulders, hot breath in her ear.
“So good Greta,” Carson said breathlessly, “So warm and tight for me.” The sounds of them moving together, slick arousal and the faint slaps of the harness against Greta skin was making Carson dizzy. Despite only the dull push and pull of the strap against her clit, she felt her desire mounting, pleasure coiling tight in her stomach.
“Oh god, I’m so close,” Greta whispered, voice raspy from use. “Your cock feels so good inside me.” Her legs began to quake where they were wrapped around Carson, and she felt herself pulled taught; a bow string about to snap.
Carson fused their mouths back together, kiss messy and wet as she arched her back just slightly to wiggle a hand between their bodies, pushing it down and making sharp contact with Greta’s clit. She circled it roughly, feeling Greta stiffen, swallowing the moan that left her throat as she came hard around the strap.
Carson pulled back to catch her breath, forehead dropping to Greta’s shoulder as she slowed her pace, coaxing her through her orgasm with soft slow thrusts. “That’s right, so beautiful. Such a good girl, coming for me.”
She felt Greta’s hand at the base of her neck, light strokes against the small hairs there. Her other hand found her hip, slowing Carson’s movements until they were still, pressed tightly together with Carson still inside her. Greta kissed the side of her head, a soft noise escaping her as Carson shifted to ease the strap out.
Carson’s eyes met hers and she watched Greta smile, slow and sweet. Carson pressed a kiss to her lips, chaste and filled with so many somethings. “Wow,” was all she could come up with.
Greta laughed, light and melodic, warming Carson from the inside. “Mmmm, wow indeed,” she agreed. She drew Carson closer to her, gripping the sides of her button down, still hanging open on her shoulders. Her hands slid up, framing her face as she kissed her slowly.
Carson was still buzzing inside, her core throbbing. She shifted her hips almost subconsciously, searching for friction against the harness, strap now pressed along the inside of Greta’s leg, nudging occasionally against the desk as they continued to kiss lazily.
Greta must have sensed her small needy movements. She felt a hand drop to her abdomen, delicate fingers sliding past the waist of her open trousers to loosen the buckle of the harness around one of her thighs. As it eased to one side, Greta’s fingers maneuvered under the base of the strap, dragging through pooled wetness, and moving with purpose to her clit. Carson was already close to the edge, and Greta’s circled her fingers gently once, twice, three times before Carson came, folding into Greta, a soft cry muffled against her lips.
“There you go,” whispered Greta as Carson trembled in her arms, soft sparks of pleasure rolling through her.
When Carson pulled back, her eyes were wide, face still pink with arousal. “That was…” she started, then stopped, unable to find the words.
“Yeah,” breathed Greta. “Damn, Shaw.” Carson blushed under her gaze, dark and hungry. Carson could tell she was far from finished with her. “So, what do you say to a nightcap? My place?”
Carson nodded, trying to keep the small flame of excitement at her words in check. She smiled, wide and open.
“And maybe, tomorrow I could take you out for breakfast - there’s this little diner I love.” She voice was shyer than Carson was used to, and her heart squeezed, tenderness swelling inside her. She could feel them changing…was overcome by how fiercely she wanted it.
“Yeah, yeah I’d like that,” she said, taking Greta’s fingers lightly in her own.
Slowly, they put themselves back together. Carson zipped up Greta’s dress, pressing a kiss to the bare skin of her back as she closed the clasp. Greta removed the harness from Carson gently, then rebuttoned her shirt, now irrevocably wrinkled, straightening the tie around her neck.
They slipped out of Sarge’s office into the empty, quiet hallway, hands clasped together. Carson had the white box tucked under her arm. Greta pulled her towards the elevators. “So, did you like your present?” she asked, voice light and teasing.
Carson grinned at her, raising up on her toes to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Most definitely,” she said softly, “Merry Christmas, Greta.”
“Merry Christmas, Carson.”
The doors dinged open as Carson turned to her. “You know, I’m actually Jewish,” she said, then held up her hand as Greta started to speak.
“I’m just saying,” she continued as she pulled Greta into the elevator. She pressed her gently against the wall, “there are eight nights of Hanukkah.” Her eyebrows raised suggestively.
Greta let out a chuckle, ran a hand lightly down Carson’s chest. “Mmm, well you have your work cut out for you, Shaw,” she said lowly, “Can’t have that gift going to waste.” She grabbed Carson’s tie, pulling her forward until they were pressed firmly together, lips meeting as the elevator doors slid closed.