The café was quiet on a rainy Tuesday afternoon—only a handful of regulars scattered at tables, headphones in, lost in their own worlds. Elena sat in the back office, door half-open, legs draped over Mia's lap on the worn leather couch they'd dragged in last month "for inventory checks."
Mia's hand was already under Elena's skirt, fingers lazily circling her clit through soaked panties. Elena bit her lip hard enough to taste copper, trying to keep quiet while pretending to scroll through her phone.
"You're dripping again," Mia whispered against her ear, voice rough from earlier that morning when she'd woken Elena by sliding a thick silicone dildo inside her while she was still half-asleep. "Think anyone out there can smell how wet you are for me?"
Elena whimpered, hips rocking into Mia's touch. "Mia—someone could walk in—"
"That's the point." Mia pushed the fabric aside, two fingers gliding into Elena's heat with embarrassing ease. "Let them hear how pretty you sound when I fuck you."
Elena's head fell back against the couch. Mia curled her fingers, stroking that spot that made Elena's thighs shake. The wet sounds were loud in the small room—slick, obscene, unmistakable.
Then the front bell jingled.
Elena froze.
Mia didn't.
She kept fucking her slowly, deliberately, thumb pressing Elena's clit in tight circles while footsteps approached the counter.
Elena recognized the voice before she saw the face.
"Hi… is Elena here? I was told she comes in a lot."
Claire.
Mia's fingers stilled for one heartbeat. Then they moved again—harder. Deeper.
Elena's eyes widened in panic. "Mia—"
"Shhh." Mia's free hand clamped over Elena's mouth, gentle but firm. "You're gonna stay right here and come while she stands ten feet away. Understand?"
Elena nodded frantically, tears of overstimulation already pricking her eyes.
Mia shifted them so Elena was half-turned toward the cracked door, skirt hiked to her waist, panties shoved to one side. Anyone who looked closely would see everything—Mia's hand buried between her legs, Elena's thighs trembling, chest heaving.
Claire's voice drifted back again. "I'm an old friend. Just wanted to surprise her."
The other barista—Lila—sounded bored. "She's in the back with Mia. Door's open if you wanna say hi."
Elena's heart slammed against her ribs.
Mia's lips brushed her ear. "Look at her. Look at the woman who threw you away. And feel how much wetter you get knowing I'm the one who has you now."
Elena's gaze locked on the doorway. Claire appeared—same sleek blonde hair, same confident posture, same black coat Elena used to love sliding her hands under. She froze when she saw them.
Mia didn't stop.
She added a third finger, stretching Elena wide, pumping steadily while her thumb worked merciless circles on her clit. Elena's muffled moans vibrated against Mia's palm.
Claire's eyes flicked from Elena's flushed face to Mia's possessive grip, then lower—to where Mia's hand disappeared between Elena's thighs.
Elena came like a freight train.
Her whole body seized, back arching, a choked sob escaping around Mia's hand. Wetness gushed over Mia's fingers, dripping onto the couch. Her legs shook so violently Mia had to pin her hips down to keep fucking her through it.
Claire stood rooted, mouth slightly open, cheeks flaming.
Mia finally pulled her hand free—slowly, deliberately—lifting glistening fingers to Elena's lips. Elena sucked them clean without being told, eyes never leaving Claire's.
Mia's voice was calm, almost polite. "She's busy. You can see that."
Claire swallowed hard. "I… I just wanted to talk."
Elena's voice came out wrecked, hoarse. "We're done talking, Claire."
Mia stood, pulling Elena up with her, arm possessively around her waist. Elena's skirt was still bunched, thighs shiny. Claire's gaze dropped there for one long second before she turned and walked out, bell jingling behind her.
The door hadn't even fully closed before Mia had Elena bent over the desk.
"Gonna fuck you so hard you forget she ever existed," Mia growled, yanking Elena's panties down to her ankles.
She didn't bother with prep—Elena was still dripping from before. Mia grabbed the strap she kept in the bottom drawer (thick, ridged, black), buckled it on in seconds, and pushed in with one long, relentless thrust.
Elena cried out, hands scrabbling at papers. Mia fucked her deep and mean—hips snapping, one hand fisted in Elena's hair, the other gripping her hip hard enough to bruise.
"Say it," Mia demanded. "Say who owns this pussy."
"You—you do—fuck, Mia—"
"Louder."
"You! Mia owns me—please—"
Mia reached around, rubbed Elena's clit in brutal circles. Elena came again almost instantly, squirting hard enough to soak Mia's thighs and the floor. Mia didn't stop—kept pounding through the spasms until Elena was babbling nonsense, oversensitive and shaking.
When Mia finally pulled out, Elena collapsed over the desk, legs jelly.
Mia kissed the back of her neck, soft now. "Good girl."