Barely Legal

by Marcibel

Rating: mature
Tags: Sex, Slice of Life, Original Character, Porn, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 11016

A Fillidelphian laywer, trying her best to keep work at the office, succumbs to pleasurable temptations in the moment. Now if only she could get some peace and quiet.

A Fillidelphian lawyer, trying her best to keep work at the office, succumbs to pleasurable temptations in the moment. Now if only she could get some peace and quiet.

Contains: MF, exhibitionism, masturbation, cunnilingus, fellatio, vaginal, crotchboob/thighjob, and almost getting caught.

Art by Aurorafang
Proofread by Armstrka

Published 2019-12-26 03:50:02 UTC
Last updated 2019-12-26 03:50:02 UTC

Barely Legal

Please, for the love of Celestia and the Sun, just leave already!

I readjusted my hind legs while in my chair, straightening my posture, and pulling myself against the office desk. Have to make it as inconspicuous as possible, even if I couldn’t hide the flush in my face.

In front of me, my client continued, my predicament going unnoticed. She—Mrs. Trail Blazer—was the wife of the stallion I was representing for an upcoming case. Police arrested him a few days prior for an arson charge. Allegedly, he had burned down the estate of his boss. Arrangements were being held the following Monday.

“Please, Ms. Liberty Belle,” she pleaded at the end of her rant, “why does it have to be a guilty plea? He’s innocent!”

I sighed, squeezing my thighs together as I felt the seat of my vinyl chair brush against me.

Oh, how badly I needed her gone.

“The issue, Mrs. Blazer, is that the prosecution has a lot of evidence against your husband. For instance”—I shuffled swiftly through the stack of papers in a folder, pulling out a single one—“no alibi, fur from his coat was found at the scene, and he has a motive. It’s a slam-dunk case for them.”

“I understand it’s a tough case, but your firm advertises prompt, expert, and just attorneys. And you’re not even going to try to fight it?” Her eyes burned, and her face wrinkled and folded into a disgusted sneer. Her eyes were still puffy and stained with running mascara from her crying, but they had reformed into something vengeful and piercing. “My husband is innocent, ma’am, and I want to fight this bogus charge—we want to fight it. And if you won’t do that, then I will have to find a firm that will.”

Mrs. Blazer was digging her hooves into the ground on the matter. She glared, clutching her expensive purse in one hoof and a bundle of black-stained tissues with the other.

My patience waned with her. Every sensible nerve in my body shouted at me to tell her to find somepony who would be stupid enough to fight an uphill battle.

But…I sort of needed the case.

“Very well, Mrs. Blazer,” I sighed breathlessly, “I will talk to your husband about a non-guilty plea for Monday.”

Mrs. Blazer inhaled deeply and let out a calming, slow exhale. “Thank you, Miss Liberty Belle, for doing the right thing here.” She stood, threading a wing through the straps of her purse and tossing the tissues into the waste bin nearby. She had stopped sniffling, and her face was serene, though the freckled parts were tear stained. “I will see you Monday, Ms. Liberty Belle.”

I responded with a nod, watching as her hooves clacked against the floorboards. The creak of my office door sounded, followed by a curt slam. Her shadow in the foggy glass of my door slid left and vanished, followed by the trailing off of her hoof steps.

I held my breath. The seconds ticked away in silence.

I pushed myself away from the desk, my eyes latching on the door. My heart pounded in my chest, my face. My ears trained onto any squeak or sound from the hall. The flush in my cheeks intensified, burning hotter than the sun. I unbuttoned my cuffs, and rolled up my sleeves to my elbows.

I spread my hind legs and allowed a hoof to wander south, brushing over my teats, eliciting an anticipating inhale. I relaxed my body, a creak emitting from the chair as I slouched.

My hoof arrived at its destination, and I hummed in excitement.

My lips had already moistened, and a tiny bit of warm fluid had dribbled down to my tailhole. Using the edge of my hoof, I pulled on one side of my labia. Simply touching it sent shivers up my spine and my head into a tizzy.

I don’t know why I got the itch. It started during the meeting with Mrs. Blazer, the vinyl from my chair stimulating my arousal. It wasn’t heat season, and it didn’t feel like estrus anyway. This was closer to a pleasant flame in the fireplace on a winter night; estrus was usually as intense as a wildfire. Tender and pleasant, rather than feeling like I was going to die because biology is a sadist.

I propped up a leg onto the desk, allowing more space for my hoof to wander as it pleases. My hoof slid up and down, from where my clit would poke out if I was winking, to where just above my tailhole. I let out a stray moan that rose in volume as I approached my clitoral hood. My hoof was slick, and much of my arousal smeared across the fur of my legs.

I furiously rubbed the crease in my pussy for a whole minute, my tits bouncing with every stroke until a little heart nub, pink and throbbing and glistening in the midday sun, peeked out from its special hiding place. I gasped. My eyes rolled back. My rear hooves curled as a small jolt struck through me. I had gotten a sample of heaven as more arousal leaked out from my excited, puffy lips.

But a sample never satisfies; it only drives the hungry hungrier.

I threw my head back and closed my eyes, letting the lust take me. The first thing I saw in my mind’s eye was the previous weekend. Three days in Canterlot, shared with my boyfriend, Hopson. We had basked in a moment of luxury, briefly living the lives of princesses and princes.

But my mind leapt to the nights, with us covered in sweat, and him pressing into my back. He was mounting me, forcefully grabbing my flanks by the hoof-full. He gently kissed and licked the back of my neck while his pulsating cock twitched at my entrance.

My body was on auto-pilot; my right hoof dedicated its time to my soaked, quivering vagina. The left took up the secondary task: teasing my teats. Kneading, squeezing, massaging the hard nipples with my hoof. Feeling the sensitive flesh morph to my hoof intensified the little jolts popping from my other hoof’s assault on my pussy.

He had pushed forward. My eyes were screwed shut, and I heard him grunt as my body yielded and took him. It was not an easy feat, because dear Celestia he was massive. Sturdy, large, enduring—the paramount traits of an earth stallion, and he excelled at all of them.

He started thrusting deeply and steadily. Pushing in, he made me cross-eyed; pulling out left me yearning and empty. I was in limbo between at my capacity limit and a longing for more.

I remembered the rough grunts, the feel of his medial ring brushing past my fervent clit. I remembered the bite with which he gripped the back of my neck. I remembered those unrelenting hips and the begging of somepony caught up in the moment: “Breed me.”

And of course, I remembered what it felt like when that giant head of his flared and pressed against the opening to my cervix.

He was cumming. I was cumming.

And I was on the verge again.

Then came the sound, and an ear swiveled toward it. Hard, heavy hoof-falls coming down the hall.

I froze, and my mind came back to my office here in Fillydelphia. Where someone was walking down the hall. It was a Saturday. Nopony was here, or supposed to be here. I was only here to talk with Mrs. Trail Blazer and prepare for Monday.

The hoof-falls became louder. Closer.

I started panicking. My fur was soaked to the bone, fluids had dripped down the chair, and I was in a position beyond compromising. If anypony saw me like this, masturbating in my office, they’d assuredly tell my father. He’d be mortified. I’d lose my job, my place in this firm’s future.

So I acted quickly: I dropped my leg from the desk and snatched a giant bundle of tissues. I hastily dried my hooves, the chair, and my groin and hind legs, and the soaked tissues were tossed into the basket. I grabbed a can of air freshener, for when the summer heat leaves me a little unfresh, and sprayed until the apple-cinnamon smell was pungent. Had to cover my scent somehow.

I tucked the can away and resumed looking over the case notes. I uffed, both at the prospect of being forced into an unwinnable defense and to rid my vision of my bothersome bangs.

There was a knock on my door. I breathed deep through my nose, trying to steel my nerves, and exhaled from my mouth. My office smelled like a horny apple farmer. About as good as I was going to get it.

“Come in,” I called and started making myself appear busy.

The door creaked open slightly, and I levelled an expectant look at the pony intruding. A head of bleached white and a wide grin poked out from the open space.

My heart jumped a little in joy.

It was Hopson.

Hopson was a laid-back stallion; only thing that I had seen get him worked up was my father. But Dad had that effect on most ponies. Hopson was the firm’s investigator, and a good one at that. He helped me with quite a few cases. Cool with everypony, a great kisser, and he could make a mean green bean casserole.

And he packed some serious heat in the bedroom, and was a true markspony, even if he had a bit of a hair trigger.

My arousal noticed him, too, and begged for me to jump him. Instead, spite the wink, I only smiled at him.

“Hey, babe,” he said.

“H-Hey, Hopson.” I raised my head, looking at him evenly. “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” he stepped inside, closing the door behind him, “I figured, since you’re all alone here, you would appreciate a little company—”

Oh, I’d love some company from you right now.

“—maybe get a bite to eat—”

I have a five-star meal waiting for you right here.

“—just relax a little, since I know Mrs. Trail Blazer was giving you a hard time about her husband’s case.”

For heaven’s sake, just fuck me, you beautiful bastard!

“I don’t know, Hops—”

“No, no,” he said adamantly, taking a few steps toward me. “I am not taking ‘no’ for an answer. You love to work, you love what you do, I understand that.” He continued walking up to the right side of my desk. “But you didn’t eat this morning. Left my place with no more than a peck on the lips and a goodbye.” He stopped, taking a couple sniffs. “What’s that smell?”

My ears instinctively flattened. “Uh, it’s an air freshener—”

“No, not that. It’s more like”—he sucked in a huge amount of air—“strawberries…? And…oh…”

My face grew hot—arguably hotter than my flank at the moment. Of course he would recognize it.

I squeezed my thighs together out of embarrassment and shied away my gaze.

“Are you…?” he started.

“No, I’m not in season,” I replied, cutting him off. “I just got in the mood, for some reason. You ever get that way?”

“All the time. Unsheathing in public? Just the worst. Embarrassing, impolite.” He gulped and shifted his back legs. “And it’s really hard to hide it.”

I leaned back in the chair, just enough for a peek. He was partially unsheathed, no doubt his body’s reaction to my scent.

“Do you,” Hopson began, “want a bit of help with that?” He smiled coyly.

“What if somepony comes into the office?” I asked. "Partners and paralegals could come at any moment, to fetch case notes or file paperwork. Sometimes, they’ll just come in on a Saturday or Sunday for some peace and quiet."

Hopson circled around the desk, coming within a breath’s distance away; I felt it along my neck before I felt his lips on my neck, dotting a patch up to my ear. My body relaxed, humming contently.

I turned my head, and my lips caught him, trapping him into a passionate kiss. My body swiveled to him. Mind swimming, my hind legs parted themselves. Hopson leaned against me, the chair squealing in protest against our combined weight, with his pink and gray length, fully unsheathed, resting between my teats.

It throbbed in yearning. Its warmth was infectious, and caused my accursed libido to intensify. It gently poked my navel.

Hopson moaned coarsely into my mouth and gave a reflexive thrust against me. His stallionhood slid against my soft fur. I felt something wet dab onto a tuft of fur on my underbelly.

I broke the kiss. “Hops,” I mumbled, pushing him back with my forehooves, “no, stop. We can’t. Not here.”

“Nopony’s here, Lib. It’s just you and me.”

“No, Hops. Somepony can come in. Iron o-or my father, could—”

Hops quieted me with another peck on the lips. It sent a jolt all the way through my spine, eliciting a shiver out of me.

“And let me guess, you don’t want to go back to your place or mine because you still have work to do.”

“That would be correct.”

Hops’s head fell, nodding in defeat. His eyes darted down at an angle, and a wry grin appeared on his muzzle.

“Think I can fit in there?” he asked.

I followed the glance. “Under the desk?”

Hopson closed in on me, his lips brushing against mine. “Service my mare in secret,” the sexy bastard whispered, “so should somepony arrive unexpectedly, we won’t be caught.”

I spent all of a second, considering his minty breath and dexterous tongue and me twitching and almost leaking onto the floor. before I pushed my chair away from the desk to allow him passage. I needed it so badly, some sort of release, just so I could return to my work without a bother my body.

Hops smirked, and crouched, scooting underneath the desk back side first. The desk was large, and so was he, leaving very little space for him to maneuver—granted the only thing that really needed to move didn’t require that much room to begin with.

He licked his lips, beaming with a sort of parched grin.

The intense pounding that pulsed throughout my body returned. I twisted the chair forward, slouching my body to give him easier access, and pulled myself forward, serving myself to him on a silver platter.

Hops wrapped a hoof around my leg. Just as he did with my neck, his lips taking their sweet time paving a trail of kisses up my thigh. He stared up, watching every flick of my ears, the glow my cheeks, the twists and twitches of my eyes and mouth. The trail zigzagged and often circled on itself. Anything to keep me on the tips of my hooves. To keep me wanting.

Just as it felt like he was about to finally move on from playing with his food, he grabbed my other leg and gave it the same treatment. Kisses, tender and teasing, all across my thigh.

I groaned in frustration; Hops took the hint, after a cocky smile of pride. He travelled up my thigh one more time and climbed up, around, and over my moistened drooling lips. While he only skirted the sensitive flesh, the touch of somepony else was miles above clumsily hoofing myself.

He made his way up, between my teats, each “Mwah!” sending my mind into a tizzy. He ventured halfway to my navel and doubled back. When he reached my teats again, his marvelous mouth detoured to my right teat, wetting it with his flat tongue and taking the nipple whole into his mouth.

My lopsided mouth hung agape, and a throaty moan filled the stuffy air. My teats were always a critical point, a great, easy way to turn me on, be it through kneading, sucking, maybe just a bored hoof lazily rubbing my nipples. They aren’t particularly big, but the girls always had a little bounce to them.

And Hops? He always knew how to treat them right.

His lips enveloped the whole teat, his tongue circling the hard nipple like a predator with its prey. It spiraled outward until it reached the inner rim of his lips, then worked its way toward the tender nub at the center. He flicked wildly at it when it reached my nipple. Hops brought his lips up until they enclosed only the nipple itself and gently sucked at it.

I lightly bucked my hips on reflex as every zap of pleasure came in even waves. He released it with a smack, and his big orange eyes looked up at me. He was so adorable. His head tilted and took my other teat into his mouth, lavishing it with the same treatment as its neighbor.

I ran my right hoof through his feathery mane as he toiled, switching between them at his leisure. He nipped at them lightly on occasion. It was never enough to hurt, just a little bite of excitement in the heat of passion.

After a couple minutes of attention, both of the girls were soaked to the flesh, cool even in the humid summer air. Hops moved down, returning to his pecking until his warm breath on my heated nethers.

I winked. I gritted my teeth to fend off the urge to make a breathless utterance.

Hopson chuckled. “Somepony is quite eager.”

“It’s all your fault, you know.”

“How so?”

“In addition to attacking my weaknesses, I was…hoofing myself while thinking about last weekend before you arrived.”

Hops’s grin grew disgustingly large. If I didn’t need that gorgeous mouth of his, I would have bucked his teeth in.

“Is that right?” he said mockingly. He leaned in closer to my lips, and his breaths rose in temperature and intensity. “You were thinking about me pounding into you? Driving into you over and over until you popped?”

Hopson’s exhales on those two words drove me mad. Mad enough to make me cross my hind legs behind his head and tighten.

“You are talking too much.” I restrained him in place with my legs. “And you shouldn’t be talking with your mouth full, so get.”

“Guess I’ve no choice but dine relentlessly.”

Hopson planted a kiss right in the middle of my drooling slit. Up and down the little crease. When he reached the bottom (while on my back), his tongue jutted from his lips and wormed against my labia.

As if I thought I couldn’t grow any hotter, he proceeded to prove me wrong. I swear I felt like my fluids were vaporizing as soon as they escaped on winks. And it was exactly what I needed, like breaking a fever.

Hopson’s tongue was in a playful mood, it seemed. It kept its distance from my clit, only peeking inside on the occasional wink. Sometimes he would simply kiss. Other times, he’d pull a part of my lips into his mouth, nipping and sucking as he had with my teats.

I felt nothing but jolts and shocks and zaps. Electricity danced up and down my spine, tickling my brain. He wasn’t at the main event yet, and I was already close to standing up and applauding.

A door shut somewhere on the floor. I instinctively jumped at the sound.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I sputtered as I straightened myself. I looked down at Hopson. He was still working. Gotta give the champ credit, he was always determined to finish the job.

“What do I do?” I asked.

Hops pulled himself away just a moment to reply, “Just act naturally.”

“’Naturally?’ Like my boyfriend isn’t fucking tongue-deep in my cunt?”

“...I’m not tongue-deep yet.”

“WILL YOU—”

My harsh whisper was cut short by a knocking at my door. I could see a tall figure in the foggy glass. It was definitely a stallion.

I silently prayed that it wasn’t Dad.

My heart pounded in my head. I assuredly reeked of myself, and I couldn’t cleanse the air of it. The silver tongue of my boyfriend trapped me between itself and the black velvet and steel of my chair. Only oak cloaked our activities, still ongoing unabated.

Alright, just use your head, girl, I thought. You’re a lawyer. You’re good at using your head.

“C-Come in,” I shouted, barely suppressing the reflexive squeak as Hopson grazed a sensitive area.

The door opened and an earth stallion stepped inside. He was rotund around the barrel, and nary an angle could be found in his face. It wasn’t Dad, but the second worst pony possible: my father’s partner at the firm, Uncle Justice.

Uncle Justice was one of the three partners for the firm, alongside Dad and Uncle Copper. He was…old-fashioned, let’s say, but a great constant in my youth. A mirthful stallion, a real charmer of judge and jury.

And he’s why the building’s elevator is busy for twenty minutes a day.

“Libby, dear!” Uncle Justice said, coming in fully and turning to close the door behind him. “What in Equestria are you doing here on a Saturday?”

“I-I was just gathering some stuff for arrangement Monday. Mrs. Blazer wanted to see me earlier about her husband’s plea.”

“Ah, I see,” said Uncle Justice. He hobbled his way over to the chair in front of me. “Let me guess: she didn’t take well to your idea of pleading guilty?”

“About as well as I would expect.” I gestured for him to sit—a force of habit, I assure you. I definitely didn’t want the stallion to stay any longer than he had to. “I don’t blame her, though; if my husband was in hot water, I’d want to put up a fight.”

“Think she knows something?”

“Maybeeeeee.” My thighs tightened on reflex as Hops brushed his tongue against my clit mid-wink. It did more to spur me (and him) on than it did satisfy.

I could see Uncle Justice looking me up and down. “Are you okay, dear?”

I mustered the best nonchalant grin I could, and even then it couldn’t convince a foal. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just have some problems.”

Uncle Justice hummed. “Marely problems?”

I repressed an eye roll. “Nothing like that. It’s just some…cramps. I think the eggs I had were bad.”

A smile sprouted from the gray fuzzy beard covering his jaw. “Ahh, I know that. Reminds me of the time I was Preen Eggs Café and your father...”

Uncle Justice’s retelling of something I’ve heard many, many times before just passed through one ear and out the other. I instead focused on stomping the insistent urges to squeal and moan, to grind into Hops’s face.

He was taking it easy on me; this I was aware of. Casually lapping at my lips, diverting off and on to peck my inner thighs. Painfully slow and devilishly easy, enough to make a Wonderbolt squirm—I certainly was.

My head buried itself into the folder of Mr. Sizzle’s criminal record right as Hops suddenly pressed the tip of his tongue in between my lips. And the bastard retreated almost immediately, just to let me writhe in need, winking wildly. I couldn’t take it anymore…I had to get Uncle to leave.

“—of course, your father wasn’t quite so impressed—”

“Uncle...please...”

Uncle Justice ceased his tale, looking at me confused. “What is it, dear?”

I gathered what little composure I had left, while Hops meandered over my thighs again, and gave Uncle Justice my most stern, calm, and professional expression. Mouth tight, brows knit, back straight.

“I…I have a lot of work to do for Monday, Uncle, and I want to get it done and go home. I appreciate you checking on me, but I’m fine, aside from being practically forced into fighting for a plea I don’t advise. So if you’d please…” I gestured to the door with a wing.

Uncle’s mouth vanished again behind his beard. He visibly slumped, nodded to me curtly and walked toward the door, opening it with a wing.

“If you need anything, just call.” He left, slamming the door behind him. His hoof-falls faded, leading into the ding of the entrance bell and the bang of the door thereafter.

A ping of guilt touched my heart. I shouldn’t have been so forceful with him, but I didn’t quite know how else to get him to leave without a fuss.

But what had been done was done, and I made a mental note to make it up to Uncle later. For now, I had a stallion who was slouching on the job. I wrapped my legs around his head and held him an inch away from my sopping marehood.

“Somepony’s been quite lazy,” I said, glaring directly at him. His cocky smile and confident eyes didn’t waiver. “I think he needs to get a move-on before I fire him and take care of it myself.”

He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”

Hops pressed his lips against mine, rejuvenated now that we were alone once more. He lapped at me, taking a moment to treat my clit to some attention when it popped out. During an odd lap, he unceremoniously wormed his thick muscle inside me.

My leg shook. I moaned hoarsely. My face burned and my pelvis rocked against the glorious intruder, aching for more of him to wriggle inside of me. I threw my head back again, letting myself surrender to Hops dexterous tongue. More of my juices oozed and mixed with Hops’s saliva, and together, they coated every hair on my thighs and shined every centimeter between my teats and my dock to a glimmering polish.

Hops became more fervent, by how more of his tongue wriggled deeper into my tunnel, grazing the little bumps inside as my body contracted on instinct.

“Mmm, that’s a good boy,” I told him, lying my forehoof on the back of his head for encouragement.

He then grazed that spot, and my hips reacted with a wild buck. I could feel him snickering internally at how tantalizingly close I was getting. He momentarily backed off, dropping me from the hot-blooded high that my mind and body was sent into.

“Don’t toy with me like that, Hopson.”

He pulled away as far as my legs would allow him, inadvertently letting a bit of emptiness to creep onto me. Grinning, with his face covered in a similar shine as between my legs, he said, “I’m sorry, I just wanted to savor the faces you’re making when you’re on the verge.”

“On this side of things, it’s torture.”

Hops chuckled, “So you want it to be quick and unsatisifying?”

My hoof glided over his mane, brushing back his bangs out of the way of his eyes. My gaze pierced him, and the corners of my mouth twisted. “I want it to be quick,” I told him, tightening the grip of my hooves on his head, “so I can return the favor quickly before someone else comes in.”

Hops’s eyes sparkled in realization, and he returned dutifully to the task at hoof without a word. His muzzle disappeared between my hind legs again, doubling his efforts. His tongue penetrated me again. It was hasty and wild, maybe a little too eager than I would've liked, but after telling him to get a move-on, I wasn’t allowed to complain again. And he began his unrelenting assault on that sweet spot.

It wasn’t long before I was back, knocking on the door of sweet ecstasy. I slouched in the chair, which then rolled back some. I had to use my other hoof and Hops to keep from falling completely. My mouth hung open, and moans and sighs, rising in pitch, lazily tumbled out. My head was getting hazy. My eyes lost focus. All that was and all that would be was the oncoming crescendo. An hour of anticipation, interruptions, internal pleading, and excruciating torture was about to come to a head.

I snorted and my body locked up. “I’m...f-fuck, oh fuck!” Every inch of me shook like a Las Pegasus earthquake. I went cross-eyed for a moment, endorphins storming my brain like the changelings’ siege of Canterlot, while a final moan shook from deep within my throat. Hops had retracted his tongue, and my vaginal muscles spasmed in an attempt to massage and milk a nonexistent intruder. More of my juices poured out, down and onto the lip of my chair.

It must’ve been a minute and a half before I could finally move. Breathing heavily, I unlocked my legs around Hopson, and I pushed back in my chair to allow him passage.

He slid out and over me, still leaning back in the chair. The usual adorable, cocky smock adorned his face, and he kissed me softly. I could definitely taste myself—a strange concoction of strawberries and copper—on him. I felt a dense, throbbing heat press into my underbelly, right between my teats, while his hips thrusted with idle-minded excitement.

Hops pulled away with a smack of our lips. “So, how was your time with Hopson Services?”

My face split open into a toothy grin. “I’d say it was satisfactory.”

“My turn then?”

I rolled my eyes and planted a kiss on his lips. I was hoping for a little time to catch my breath prior. My face was still beet-red and burning. But he did take care of me first, so it was at the very least an obligation.

“Switch with me,” I said.

Without question, he stood to let me up, rolling over, and sat back down. I did the same as he had done earlier, sitting down on the floor, scooting back underneath the desk. I was noticeably smaller than he was, and fit with enough room to stretch out my wings if I wanted to.

And I knew he definitely wanted me to.

I gave him a beckoning flick of my tail, curled around my right side. “Ready when you are.”

He chuckled. “I guess it’s my turn for some under-the-table service.”

“Oh, shut up, and get over here already.”

Hops rolled forward in the chair, his cock jutting straight out in front of him. He stopped a partial way, with just enough space between him and the desk to let me see him. And I was presented with a task at hoof.

He was a perfect kind of fleshy pink, dotted with splotches of a graphite gray. Hops wasn’t the longest stallion in town, but his girth compensated for his deficiency in length. Sort of built to hit the right spots by hitting everything simultaneously. A droplet of fluid adorned the crown of his half-flared head like a crown of anxiousness and readiness.

I outstretched my right wing, dragging a primary feather along the underside of Hops’s length. He hissed as the feather graced the partially flared head.

“Looks like somepony’s already about to pop,” I whispered.

Hops huffed. “With you, I think even somepony as inexhaustible as a Wonderbolt would be.”

I giggled, a rare occurrence for me. “How sweet of you to say.” I pressed my wing into him, propping his dick up, and kissed it just below the head.

Hops had always loved wingjobs. He claimed the plushness of a pegasus’s feathers were unrivaled, and hoofjobs always felt so cold, dirty, and hard, like somepony was trying to massage his dick with rocks.

But of course, anything wet and warm was forever in season.

I curved my wing around his member, my pink feathers enveloping him, and started stroking in long motions. I would glide it up to the rim of his head and pull it back to the very base, where his sheathe lie retracted and hidden, the gentle feather tips bristling his testicles.

Hops threw his back and released a guttural groan. His eyes closed, mouth open. His dick throbbed slightly, and more pre-cum drizzled out.

“Heavens, b-babe, I thought you were wanting to make it quick?”

I didn’t dignify that with a verbal response. I made far better use of my mouth at the moment, lowering my head down and peppering the base of his shaft with wet, lingering kisses. My tongue protruded, worming down into his sheathe—a weak spot for nearly any stallion, tonguing the deepest base there is. I played around a little as the muscle wetted every inch of the sheathe’s interior, rewarded with a hefty pulse for my actions. The wing stopped, and my tongue slowly and agonizingly slid up the underside of his length. Upon reaching the medial ring, I gave him a couple more wing-strokes, readjusting it to the bottom-half and allowing my mouth free reign of the upper-half. My wing continued its ministrations while my mouth ascended the mountain. My tongue circled the edge of the peak, slathering it in saliva before retreating back down the side. Up and down, left to right, I painted him one would white-washing a fence.

Every time I nudged a little too close to the ever-sensitive head, Hops jerked, thrust, and whinnied curses lowly in needy misery. His dick was doing a decent enough job polishing itself with pre-cum, which started trickling farther down the rim of the head with every throb that pulsed through him. I said I wanted to finish him quickly, yes. I could do it at any time—flip the switch, put his dick through the ringer, and have him firing a shot before he could drunkenly mutter my name. Just as he could’ve done with me. So I allowed myself to have some fun.

Hey, you get what you give.

I had finally reached my starting point, and I took a moment to lean back and admire my workmareship. He glistened in the pieces of the midday sun that escaped the blinds. He was rigid and tall, like the Canterhorn over Ponyville, bobbing oh-so slightly as my feathers continued working idly on the lower half.

“I-I, uh, see you’re having some fun with your payback,” Hops said.

“It’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I deserve that one. But it isn’t getting us anywhere—”

“Hmm, I didn’t get a good taste before. Maybe I should have a few more”—I gave the underside of Hops’s dick a lap so slow it’d lose to a snail—“and really try to savor it this time.”

Hops snorted. “That’s unfair.”

“Then don’t rush a mare. She’ll get to it when she’s damn ready.”

“Fine,” he said, shrugging. He made himself more comfortable in the seat. “Take your sweet time.”

I rolled my eyes. I loved him, but he was never a stallion who could relinquish control to somepony else, even for a moment.

I delivered a long tantalizing lick directly to the underside of his dick until I reached the edge of the head. My upper lip curled over my teeth, and the head became engulfed swiftly and smoothly. I bobbed my head, sinking farther on him before pulling back up and stopping with just the crest of the mountain still held within my mouth.

I kept it slow and stayed with the shallow motions. My lips refused to touch his medial ring, and Hops’s grunts of mild frustration were music to my ears.

But through the music, my ears found something. They spun around, just in the nick of time to hear the clang of the firm’s door shutting. Uncle Justice had already left, which meant somepony else had came in.

For a Saturday where the office was closed, it was astonishingly busy.

My eyes glanced up, and I could see the bravado Hops had about the situation, along with the color in his face, had drained. He stared at the door, his hooves gripping the edge of the desk tightly.

I heard hoofsteps. A melody of clunk-clunk, clunk-clunk against the wooden floor echoed through the hallway. I pulled myself off Hops, a tiny bit of spit stringing between him and me. My heart began racing again and picked up speed with every step closer. After that day, I mentally vowed to never do that kind of thing again. The tension and nervousness behind it, while exhilarating and ignoring how turned on I was, was set on putting me in an early grave.

The steps passed my office and continued. Hops breathed a relieved sigh, but my mind wasn’t quite set at ease. Whoever it was, was still in the office and could drop in at any time.

I fell into a rhythm, faster than I had prior, bobbing my head in time with the ticks of the clock on the wall. With the hoofsteps having faded down the hallway to the left, I figured I should try to make this short and sweet before we’re caught.

My lips didn’t fear the medial ring any more, kissing it every time I dunked my head. His tip repeatedly met the far back of my mouth, just short of the entrance to my throat. My wing adopted much faster strokes on the lower half of Hops’s cock, combined with a slight twist on the descent.

Hopson’s face twisted and folded over on itself. The stallion was trying to stifle himself as much as possible. Moans were filtered through his teeth to become hisses. Whinnies were demoted to snorts and grunts. On occasion, his mouth moved as breathless bits of silent dirty talk escaped him. One of his hooves switched from squeezing the oak desk to push me on the back of my head, “gentle” encouragement to make me go further.

Then the hoofsteps returned shortly before the door rattled violently with a knock at my office door.

I jumped, both from the suddenness of the knock exploding seemingly out of nowhere, and from Hops’s form of panic. His hips had lurched in an attempt to straighten himself, shoving more of himself into me while also pressing me against the far back of the desk. I went bug-eyed as his medial ring slipped past my lips, and the fat, semi-flared head wormed its way into my throat. I gagged violently for a moment, flailing my forehooves in surprise. Thankfully, I could still breathe through my nose, but that didn’t quite ease my mind.

“Just…gimme a sec, babe.”

I flared my nostrils and rested my forehooves against his knees. Yeah, sure. I’ll just sit here, I guess.

Hops cleared his throat. “Y-Yeah?”

I heard the door creak open. “Mr. Hopson? What are you doing here? And where’s Miss Belle?” I recognized the voice: it was Ink Splotch, one of the paralegals. A chipper gal. She was a thestral, which is so incredibly rare in a profession that thrives during the day, with a short, wavy black mane and pale yellow coat. She’s a year my senior, I had learned, and had worked longer at the firm than I did.

She also loved panty hose and was half the reason why the elevator was unusable every day.

“She’s, uh, out to lunch, I believe.”

I rolled my eyes so hard they went to the back of my head for a moment.

“Oh, I see.” Her voice carried with it a swooning innocence. “Pardon me for asking, but why aren’t you with her?”

“I came by to ask her,” Hops said, “but I had just missed her, from what I can tell.” There was the sound of shuffling papers on my desk—Mr. Sizzle’s case files! “She left her things out and just locked her office door behind her.”

She hummed. The clicks of hoof heels inched closer. “If she locked her door, then how did you get in?”

“I have a key,” Hops replied simply. And he did; he would often come in to retrieve files I’d be missing or forgotten while in court. “What about you?”

“I came by to retrieve some files for Mr. Copper.”

I heard the wobble of a file folder. Of course—Ol’ Cop was a big fan of working on the weekends, even though it was small stuff or pro-bono.

Ink stepped forward some more. She was right at the edge of the desk, less than a third of a meter away. “I saw Mr. Justice on my way up, actually. He said he came in to see Lib—Miss Belle, but she turned him away. Something about issues?”

Her voice sounded so innocent. She was anything but, however. She was a smart mare and would by all means battling me for the position of junior partner here if I hadn’t been one of the partner’s daughters.

She may be somewhat bitter about that.

“I don’t know, Ink. Like I said, she wasn’t here when I got here. Maybe she headed out right after Justice left?”

“If she had, I would’ve saw her.”

“She probably went up to the roof and flew out that way. She does that sometimes.”

I never did that; flying was an excellent way of getting bug juice and wrinkles in a thousand-bit suit.

But Ink seemed to accept this as a satisfactory response, judging by the confirming hum she let out. “Strange, but if she’s having problems, she probably just went out for a small flight to recoup.” There was a lull, as if she was thinking, before she continued, “I should probably go now. Mr. Copper is waiting for these files.” Her heels clacked away. “If you see her, give Miss Belle my regards, and I’ll see you Monday, Mr. Hopson.”

Ink pulled open my office door and slammed it behind it. The distinctive click trailed off behind, accompanied by the squeaks of the floorboards, as she departed via the right hallway. I heard the front office door open and shut again, for the fifth time that day.

I didn’t want to let my guard down again. For the third time, twice with Hops, I had been interrupted, barraged in on, and denied someone of gratifaction. And all when the office was supposed to be deader than a salt lick bar on a Sunday morning.

Hops pulled out, his cock having softened while talking to Ink. As he scooted farther back, giving me enough passage to crawl out from under the desk, I noticed he hung at a low angle. It wasn’t completely flaccid and retreating back into his sheathe yet, but losing the heat of the moment was noticeable and, if anything, discouraging.

I wiped the slobber from my mouth with my hoof and crawled out from underneath the desk. Hops offered a hoof of assistance, and I gratefully took it. When I finally clambered to my full height, he surprised me with kisses dotting up my neck.

I giggled at the touch and wrapped a foreleg around his neck. “I guess we should probably head home, huh?”

The kisses continued up along my jaw, backtracking the same path as they had traveled before, and Hops put a couple pecks on my lips. They found something that I couldn’t do

“Maybe,” said Hops simply.

The pecks became firmer, lasted longer, a little more passionate with every one. Soon enough, we stopped parting altogether, melting together like butter and cream.

Hops pushed on me, forcing me onto my haunches, and more still until the edge of my desk dug into my back.

“We’d have more privacy,” I told him, each of my words punctuated with a smacking of our lips.

“Maybe.”

My hooves rubbed up and down his broad back while his caressed my face. The fire within me began flaring up again, hungry for the beast poking curiously at me once again. My vulva flexed in response. I felt a bead of arousal drip in anticipation. My tail swished about, fanning my scent to permeate the office and clear out the apple-cinnamon smell.

“But we’re not going to, are we?” I mumbled.

Hooves grabbed my hindquarters. With impressive dexterity and the traditional strength of an earth pony, Hops flipped me onto the desk and laid me flat on my back. The stack of folders spilled onto the floor, scattering paper everywhere. The lamp wobbled in place and sat precariously on the corner of the desk, and my inkwell, thankfully shut, tumbled onto the rug between the desk and the door.

It looked as if a whirlwind had struck my office; the only gust of air present, however, was the breathless pant Hops gave in the form of a reply: “No.”

We crashed again, keeping hold on each other as we writhed on the desk. Grinding, moaning, kissing. I focused almost completely on the stallion over me, the throbbing pressure between us, and the wetness oozing from me; but a little piece was fearful. Fearful of somepony coming back. We’d be far too busy and drunk to pay full attention to the noises outside. Someone could walk in, hear the low sounds of sex, and barge right in.

I then remembered something mentioned when Ink had come in—the lock on my door. It could be latched from the inside, allowing us our privacy if we were quiet (which we often were). In hindsight, I should have done it a bit ago, after Mrs. Blaze left and before I nestled into my chair to rub one out at work.

As much as I wanted to, I was far too “in the mood” to slap myself, even mentally.

“Hops,” I muttered between kisses and jolts of excitement coursing through me. “Hops, lock the door.”

He disconnected from me, glancing toward the door. “Right. Good idea.” Hopping off me, he trotted to the door and flipped the latch. The clack of brass was our greenlight to proceed.

I twisted my body to lie across the desk on my side, propping my head on my left hoof as my right worked on unbuttoning my blazer and shirt. I smiled coyly as Hops turned around and paused to drink up every inch of my form. My tail swished, my eyelashes batted, my hoof over the curves of my flank and the bronze shield of my cutie mark. Just off my shoulders hung my shirt and blazer, crumpled and damp from sweat, as I puffed out the fur on my chest.

I must’ve looked like a sweet treat to Hops. He wet his lips with his tongue, and thirst glinted in his eyes.

“Mr. Hopson,” I said with thick professionalism, sultriness lying underneath it, “as your counsel, I’m afraid the following proceedings will be long and the legal battle will be hard.”

The stallion chuckled, striding around the desk. “Are you sure you’ll be able to handle it?”

I tilted my head at him. Rolling onto my stomach, I planted my hooves onto the floor.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to handle it?”

My tail flagged, allowing Hops an unobstructed view of the beauty beneath. I looked back at him, with most of my face behind either my bangs or the blazer’s popped, crooked collar—all that he could see was playfulness in my lidded sapphire-blue eyes.

Hops stepped closer. The creaking floorboards announced each step until he was directly behind me. Suddenly, a hefty weight overshadowed my small frame, and a pair of bleach-white hooves straddled me.

And a pulsating hardness knocked at my door.

“I think I will be fine, Miss Belle.”

It wasn’t the flat head that was buzzing my doorbell—rather, it was the underside of his length. He wouldn’t dare to penetrate me so dryly, in a manner of speaking. As impatient as he could be, he was always careful and considerate. One of the reasons why I loved him.

His lips danced down my spine, all the way down between my wings, sending shivers throughout my body. My wings unfurled slightly at the attention, and he stopped below my wing joints, backtracking upward until he was just up to the cut of my mane.

The weight towering over me shifted, and a pair of hooves moved to seize my hips. He was readjusting himself, as I felt his rod drag across my lips and prod at my slit. I widened my stance to allow an easier entry. The curious poke grew more adventurous and forceful, but nonetheless slow and cautious.

I sucked in air through my teeth, turning my head to get a glimpse of Hops. My heart skipped with excitement at the pressure and the sight of Hops’s face—lips pursed, brows knitted, staring with concentration at himself and me connected by moist flesh below.

And with a squelch and the low sigh of relief from a stallion, the dam gave way.

The air in my lungs escaped with a pleasured “Mmf!” and I bit my bottom lip. My head was in a tizzy already, with only the tip inside. My right hind leg twitched in satisfaction as my honey drizzled down it.

Hops’s face was chiseled stone, gazing unblinking at where my pussy swallowed his thickness. His broad chest rose and fell so gradually, it looked as though it was done willfully. He wanted to go slow, partly for my benefit, and partly for his own. He was in control again, and he wished to savor every second of it, even at the detriment of his own experience.

Rarely, I would be fine with it, usually when it was also for my own benefit, too. But since we had no pressure to continue, to finish, I didn’t mind a sluggish pace. I didn’t mind relinquishing control entirely, and letting him have his way. He had been a good boy, and I felt the need to toss him a bone—or to let him toss one to me.

“Hops,” I whispered. When he looked up to me, my eyes sparkled and my cheeks glowed. “Take me as you please.”

He smiled, bright and warmly, and pushed. His dick sunk deeper into my cavern, as my muscles gripped him needily. A feeling of fullness came over me when his medial ring passed my entrance, and it only grew with every inch of flesh that parted. A hearty moan escaped my lungs, my throat, my mouth. My eyes, staring lazily, closed halfway.

I felt Hops reach my innermost barrier, where he stopped, resting against it. I breathed a sigh of relief; I received a moment of reprieve to simply adjust. Heavens, the girth! It was enough to break an inexperienced mare of my size, and as it always did, it stretched me to my limit.

He shifted, still near-hilted in me, slowly clambering back atop me, his broad shoulders looming like a thunderhead in the sky. He lowered his muzzle down to my left ear to whisper, “Are you ready?”

“Mm-hmm...” I hummed melodically.

He left me in part, pulling out until barely his head was still inside, slow and agonizing. HIs breath brushed the fur along my neck, cool and damp from his affectionate kissing from earlier. And then he pushed back in, pecking my cervix. We moaned harmonically.

Hops found a steady rhythm, fast enough to keep me from squirming, but not so quick where he was practically jack-hammering into me. He kept low and close, with only his hips moving to a singular beat that rattled everything that still hadn’t been flung from the desk. The lamp miraculously didn’t fall.

Sweat poured from my face. My sides and back were a sticky sort of wet. The body heat from Hops, my own suit, and the mugginess of July mixed together, and the blush lying in my face and engorged loins only agitated the blaze that enraptured me. Under any other circumstances I would’ve been the most uncomfortable I’ve ever been, praying for a small breeze to give me relief; but I was already receiving it. Relief drove into me tenderly, in doses separated by a second. Thick, heavy doses.

Hops picked up the pace for a second, thrusting faster, stronger, and just as quickly as the burst happened, it stopped. He hilted in me and smothered himself in the crop of my mane, grinding against me at my core.

I couldn’t help the smirk that infected my features. “Well, somepony didn’t last very long,” I said, oh-so smugly. Despite my done, I was a little disappointed. Usually he lasted longer.

“It’s not that. Not yet.” He huffed into my mane. It tickled a little. “I’m just…taking a second.”

“A second away from popping, it sounds like.” I flexed my vaginal muscles, giving his tool a warm, wet hug. “Maybe something different will help you out?”

I raised up and pushed against his chest. Hops got the message, backing off to let me up. He slipped out of me, unceremoniously, and his hooves clopped against the floorboards as he stepped backwards.

My hooves left the floor completely as I rolled onto my back, legs in the air. I shrugged off my work shirt and blazer the rest of the way, letting them fall behind me and freeing me of their cumbersome heat and movement. Looking across my body, with my head propped up again on a hoof, I blinked rapidly and innocently at Hops.

“Gorgeous view,” he commented, wetting his lips. His dick excitedly throbbed in agreement.

“Stallions: they’re always so thirsty they can’t stop staring at the tap.”

I crossed my hind legs, squeezing my teats between them and framing my lower lips. A forehoof strayed down, gripping my firm flank, and pulled. I felt myself spread apart slightly, some of my ambrosia eeking out, sparkling like glitter in the limited sunlight. I uttered something like a moan crossed with a hum; it was a weird feeling, exposing myself like that. I knew he could see deep inside, my slippery muscles convulsing on the shadow of himself in me, the tiny barrier deep within that he had kissed and spread and seeded—on the occasion when it was safe to do so, of course. He could see how much I wanted him, needed him, ached for him.

Just as much as I could see how much it turned him on, how mutual the desire to just pounce the other was.

Heavens, how I loved him. Still do, I guess, even after everything that happened.

Hops stepped forward. My legs uncrossed themselves and spread wide, leaving a clear view of my playfully shy eyes, my yearning sex, and everything in between. He mounted the desk and me, perfectly positioned for penetration. His perfectly handsome face hovered over mine, glowing softly from his smile and the blush covering his forehead and cheeks, with his messy white mane draped around his head. He lowered his face and booped my snoot with his own.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too,” I said.

Our lips met, and as much as I wanted him to never leave my sight, my eyes closed out of habit. My head was in such a tizzy, I didn’t feel him widen his stance, or adjusting his hips to correct his intended aim. But I did notice with a shocked hum his aim was true as it poked back into my crevasse. Our lips and tongues were melting together, and what it took to separate them was Hops thrusting into me in a single motion, head to sheath, a full hilting. I threw my head back, and a growling moan, rumbling from my soul, spoke its approval.

I was so full and yet so hungry for more.

He closed in on my neck, nipping flirtatiously before lavishing it with licks and kisses. Hops’s hips moved persistently and regularly, slow and impactful, like one would hammer a nail. It was timed so perfectly between each of the pecks on my neck.

I was in ecstasy. His thrusts struck every single tender nerve, leaving me writhing. My forehooves wrapped around his back and just below his ears; my hindlegs encircled his legs. My head hung limp over the edge of the desk, the front door flipping upside-down, mouth agape with moans and pleasured gasps spilling out.

So animalistic. So fierce, so savage. It was like he and his hips had a one-track mind; all they knew how to do, and set to do was pump into me in deep and long motions. He was slower, for sure, than when he mounted me from behind, but he was much more methodical in his strokes.

In and out. Push and pull. How I loved every moment of being drunk on him, on us—even as we filled my office with the sounds of love and the musk of sex. Just as we had melted, so did the fear of getting caught. It let us concentrate on the needs of the other, as dangerous a sentiment it was; and with as loud as we were, anypony who stepped onto the floor would without a doubt hear the steady plaps of flesh against flesh.

But that didn’t stop either of us.

And I was so close I couldn’t.

“Oh, stars, Hops,” I moaned, lifting my head. Hops, whose head was pressing into my chest, raised up, looking me square in the eye. “Harder,” I demanded. “Faster.”

We both leaned in, and while our kissing was passionate, it was also uncoordinated as neither could hold still. Hops pulled back, our lips lightly brushing from the constant motion.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He grabbed the edge of the desk behind me head and, before I had to time register that he had stopped, started again with all his might.

I was already teetered on the edge so not even a minute later, the pressure in me peaked.

“Hops, I’m…ohhh.”

He only grunted in acknowledgement.

“Hops, I…I—Oh!”

My eyes shot open and my head fell. My back arched as electricity—magical, pleasurable sparks—wracked my body as my vision turned white. My walls held Hops in a vice grip. Hooves flailed in an attempt to find purchase on something to hold, and eventually made due with the stallion positioned over me and in me. My right hind leg shook violently while still around his waist, then they both went limp and parted to his sides. And though I may not be a squirter, there was definitely an excess of my fluids flooding my sex and his, and leaking all the way down to my tail.

I couldn’t move anymore.

I could barely see.

Ringing had overtaken my hearing, and the only thing I could smell and feel was us.

Us together.

Then I felt movement. Hops’s weight lifted off me, and hooves seized my legs. He pulled out without a word, causing me to gasp, still tender from the fresh orgasm. A warm and pulsating heat, soaked and sticky, found its way between my thighs, my teats.

I raised up and looked down, vision finally clearing, to see Hops’s dick staring at me, running up to just below my navel. He pressed my thighs together and started thrusting quickly in jerky motions. My fluids made it easy for him, slathering across everything they touched.

It felt lovely, actually, but that’s nothing new when you’re essentially massaging a major erogenous zone with a thick slab of meat. But as nice as it felt, it didn’t last long.

Hops’s face tensed, hissing through his grit teeth, with his eyes shut. He pressed into me as hard as he can, with his sack resting against my still-writhing cave. I felt a giant pulse from him and understood what was happening right as he gasped.

The first shot was rather short, reaching just the other side of my belly button. The second one, however, was the doozy; I flinched as a giant glob struck my forehead, right on my bangs, with the rest of it falling across the right side of my face and over my eyes. The third was larger in volume, but shorter in range, making only up to my chin. Every throb spewed more of his seed, and the rest continued in decreasing in size and distance until it was only drizzling out.

The only sounds in the room were a duet of panting. We just stayed where we were, taking a breather. I lay limply on my desk, too exhausted to move. My chest was covered copiously. It felt so slimy in my coat and mane. My own juices was still seeping into my dock, tail, and anus. And what wasn’t covered in semen or marecum was matted and sticky from sweat. On both of us.

After a few minutes—five, I think—I raised my head to get a look at Hops. He was still standing on his hind legs, using the edge of the desk for leverage. Hearing me move, he looked up, and his exhaustion erupted into a wide smile and raunchous laughter.

“Wow, you took a hefty load to the face!”

“Oh, shut up!”

“You look like you’re wearing a cum eyepatch!”

“Shut up!” I barked. But the growing grin betrayed the vicious tone verberating through my words. “If you want to do something useful, can you at least get me some tissues to clean it off my face? I don’t want to move and spill some any more on my suit than there already is.”

Hops fell back onto all fours, taking the box of tissues in a hoof. Still giggling like schoolfilly, he plodded over to my right side, pulled a couple tissues, and wiped up the goop from my eye first. When it was clear, he leaned in and gave it an affectionate peck on the eyelid.

“That’s really gross,” I pointed out.

He shrugged and went to work on my mane. I grabbed a few tissues and started wiping it off my belly. The cummy tissues were tossed into the waste bin, and when I was clean enough, the empty tissue box went with them.

Hops helped me up and off the desk. I was glad to be down, too—my back and neck were starting to hurt from the hard mahogany. I don’t know how some mares do that so much.

Finally on all fours again, I managed to surprise Hops with a kiss on the cheek.

“You were wonderful,” I told him.

That cocky smirk reappeared. “You think so?”

“Mhm. Probably the best I’ve ever had.”

I instantly regretted the remark, judging by how his eyes widened and his ears perked up. I felt his ego swell three sizes that day.

We shared another set of pecks and nibbles and agreed that it was best to head home. My office was a wreck, sure, but both of us, me especially, reeked of sweaty sex. I was in no mood to work any more today.

I folded my shirt and jacket, miraculously untouched aside from sweat, and tucked them into a wing. I made sure the lamp was straightened on my desk, flipped it off, and trotted to the door, where Hops stood waiting for me. He unlocked the door, opened it, and locked it again after we passed through. He gave it a jiggled to make sure it stuck.

Side-by-side we walked down the hall to the right, toward the lounge area where clients and their families waited. As we passed the threshold, we noticed something out of the corner of our eyes and froze in our tracks.

Ink Splotches sat in a violet-brown chair across from the door to the elevator. Her hind legs were crossed, and her forehooves were folded in her lap, the smile of a devil stretching from ear to ear with one of her fangs gleaming through the shadow cast from the sun at her back.

Regret sunk my heart and burned in my face and ears. Lawyer or no, there was no way I was going to talk my way out of this. She was far too clever and

“My, Libby, it sounded like you two had a wonderful time together,” Ink said, clicking her tongue. “I think Mr. Curiae would love to hear about this.”

“What do you want, Ink?” I said sharply, glaring daggers at her.

Her grin shrunk, and her face darkened in her own shadow. “Right down to business. Like you always do. Fine. I want a word. A good one, to your father. I want a junior partner position. I hear one was opening up soon. And if I get it, this will all go away.”

I was shocked. Genuinely. I feared she sought the partner position my father was giving me. “So you want my job when I get promoted?”

“That’s correct,” she replied with a nod.

“You don’t…want the partner job?” I asked.

She blew a huff of air out of the corner of her mouth. “Please, I’m keeping my goals realistic here. You’re the only one getting partnered out of the same desire your grandmother promoted your father and uncle: to keep the firm in the family.”

I glanced back at Hops, who just shrugged. “How do you I know you won’t lord it over me? That’s usually what people do with blackmail.”

“Because I just want the job. My fair shot. Opening my mouth after that isn’t going to do either of us any favors.”

A good point. One that I couldn’t argue against. It was against my better judgment, but the terms seemed fair enough given the compromising circumstances. And I didn’t really have the grounds to negotiate.

“Fine. I’ll put in a word to Dad on Monday. I make no promises, Ink, on getting the job itself. Dad’s looking at others for it, too.”

“Then you better hope I get it, for yours and his sake.” Her eyes darted over to Hops. She stood, brushing out the ruffles in her blouse. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to be going now.” The wide, friendly smile returned as a leathery wing pulled her sunglasses over her eyes. She slid past us, called the elevator, and stepped inside when it arrived. “See you both on Monday!” she said with a wave, clearly brimming with excitement. The doors closed, and she was gone.

I released a breath I didn’t know I had been holding. The flush in my face didn’t leave so easily, however.

Monday was going to be a fun day.