What was frustrating about it was that this didn't even fit the "fridge blocking the snacks" remark because Hana was an exceptionally pretty girl.
But pretty girls did have their way of being tremendously annoying, and this was one of them.
How was any of this her business?
Dylan's frown deepened, his dark, enigmatic eyes boring into Hana with a cold disgust that hadn't been there before.
He would normally brush off her snide attitude, but now it grated against him, a spark of irritation fanned by the 2% calibration with the Incubus King's soul pulsing in his veins.
The suggestive insult in her tone, the reductive glare she aimed at him—it felt like a challenge, and he wasn't the same pushover he'd been just yesterday.
But he didn't exactly say anything either.
He just stood there, dressed in sharp office wear: a crisp white long-sleeved shirt, plain gray pants, and a red tie knotted loosely.
His tall, jacked frame radiated quiet menace. His hair was combed slightly, but a good amount still fell over his forehead in a tousled, effortless mess, framing his chiseled face.
Rather than challenging Hana's glare with his own, his expression remained bland, unreacting, but it wasn't exactly a yielding gaze either.
"He's not bothering me, Hana," Diana said. "We were on a business mission together. Focus on your work."
Her cheeks were still flushed, but she held her head high, the shy glow from earlier masked by her professional facade.
Hana immediately nodded her head submissively to her superior, "Yes, Miss," but she shot Dylan another untrusting glare.
His hands were still in his pockets. His face still didn't care.
He stepped up to the reception desk, signing in with a quick, deliberate scribble, then followed Diana toward the elevator.
Maybe [Sovereignty] wasn't working on her for some reason. Was she going to be an obstruction? Maybe [Sovereignty] worked in different ways with different women.
These thoughts filled his mind as they walked past the eyes of other workers and guards, palpable confusion in their expression.
Once they got inside the elevator, Diana's shoulders slumped slightly, relieved and excited. "That was so terrifying. Everyone was staring at us, so confused. I felt… naked."
Dylan remained silent beside her, staring straight ahead at the polished metal doors, his hands still in his pockets.
Rather than saying anything, a thought danced in mind.
Felt naked?
Does Miss Miller have an exhibitionist kink?
The idea sent a thrill through him. It would almost make sense, since she was such a closeted slut. He felt his cock jerk at the idea.
"They were staring because I'm considered an eyesore in this company. You spearheaded that, too, so they're surprised to see you walking with me," Dylan said, dry and honest.
Diana's face showed some guilt.
He continued. "It's not like there's anything strange about a boss and her subordinate walking down the corridors of a company side by side. I'm not grabbing your ass or anything."
As he said it, he reached out, taking a firm squeeze of her fat ass through her skirt.
Diana's eyes widened, a soft whimper escaping as she squirmed. "Dylan, what are you doing?" she hissed, her hand grabbing his wrist, trying to push him away, but her grip was weak, her body betraying her with a shiver of need.
Dylan didn't budge. He continued to knead her plush flesh with his corruptive fingers. "We're in the elevator. Nothing to worry about."
"There's a camera!" she whisper-yelled. Even though she sounded scared, there was still arousal in his voice. Her thighs were already pressing together as heat pooled between them.
Dylan looked up at the elevator camera and quirked his lips, his hand still gripping her ass.
"Look, the angle won't catch it. To them, I'm just standing very close to you. They can't see me squeezing this fat ass…" He paused, his voice dropping lower, "…or doing this."
Sudden and boldly, he raised her skirt from behind, his fingers deftly adjusting her panties aside.
Before she could protest, he slid two fingers into her dripping pussy, curling them to hit her G-spot with ruthless precision.
Diana gasped, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a moan, her eyes fluttering as she tried to stay silent.
"Already wet despite going three rounds this morning," Dylan teased. "Have you always been this horny, Miss Miller?"
Diana's pussy clenched around his fingers. It was true, she was already soaking wet, and as he pumped them in and out, she got even wetter.
The nasty sounds were being muffled by the elevator's hum, but they could both still hear it. She grabbed his arm, whispering, "Stop… please," but her hips rocked against his hand, her body begging for more even as she fought it.
Of course Dylan didn't stop.
He even played with her the more. He activated [Euphoric Touch] inside her wet pussy, plunging his fingers deeper, faster.
Diana almost screamed, but she bit her lip in time, trembling, her muffled moans growing desperate.
Her nails dug into his wrist, but she didn't push him away, rather she surrendered to the pleasure.
At least that meant another orgasm. She loved cumming, and it was an experience only Dylan had given her.
She was going to cum again. It excited her. So she let him finger him as much as she wanted while she acted normal for the camera.
But just as her walls began to flutter, her orgasm teetering on the edge, the elevator dinged.
Diana's eyes widened with disappointment and fear.
They'd reached their Division's floor.
Diana yanked his hand away, which was hilarious cause it meant she could have done it all that while.
Her breath was ragged as she frantically tugged her skirt down in a panic.
She had not been able to adjust her panties properly in time, and so it allowed for her wet juices to leak in silent drops on the ground while other streaks rolled down her thick thighs.
Dylan beside her, smirked at her desperate pretense.
They stood straight—normal, like nothing had happened—as the doors opened and showed another worker in a lanky gray suit, waiting.
They stepped out, and he stepped in.
Once he was inside, his shoe slipped slightly on a wet spot.
He frowned, glancing down.
"What's this? Water stains?"
He looked up, but Dylan and Diana were already striding away, her cheeks burning, her legs trembling with shame and excitement.