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Overtime in the Penthouse: 1

Penulis: LiahđŸ„°
last update Tanggal publikasi: 2026-08-23 15:16:25

Service Call After MidnightđŸ«ŠđŸ’ŠđŸ’§

He had me bent over the cold marble of the kitchen island, one hand fisted in my hair, the other gripping my hip hard enough to leave bruises shaped like his fingers.

“Still so fucking tight,” Diego muttered against the back of my neck, driving into me with deep, relentless strokes that shoved me forward across the stone. “Rich widow’s been needing this. Bet your late husband’s fancy friends never fucked you like this.”

I moaned into my own arm, the sound raw a
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  • Mummies and their Badboys   Private Session: 1

    Mat, Mouth, and OrdersđŸ«ŠđŸ’Š “On your back. Legs open. Hands under your ass where I can see them.” Cole dropped onto the thick training mat without a word. Twenty-five. Dark hair damp from the session he’d just finished with me. The sleeveless compression shirt clung to his chest; the shorts did nothing to hide how hard he already was. A thin scar cut through his left eyebrow. He had a record for fighting and a suspended trainer’s license that should have kept him off the floor of any reputable gym. I hired him anyway. People with his body and his temper were useful when I wanted the workout to hurt in the right ways. I stood over him in the private studio at the back of the building, the hem of my sports bra already shoved up. The only light came from the red exit sign and the single wall sconce I had dimmed. Outside, the main gym was dark. The last member had left forty minutes earlier. I had locked both doors myself. “Mouth only,” I said

  • Mummies and their Badboys   Control Room After Midnight: 3

    Three A.M. Side Entrance💩💧Ash covered the distance in four silent steps.He locked an arm around the man’s throat and dragged him backward into the blind behind the flight cases before a shout could form. The camera bag hit the carpet with a soft thud. I stepped out, picked it up, and opened it under the low hallway light. Another recorder. A spare lens. A folded printout of stills from the control room, my hand in Ash’s hair, his mouth between my thighs, the timestamp from the night before.Marcus Hale. Medium height. Dark jacket. The same careful face that had walked the studio once last spring under the pretext of advising on after-hours monitoring systems. He had stayed until the last session light went dark. He had always been polite.Ash eased the pressure just enough for him to breathe.“You’re done,” I said. “The on-site units are gone. The SIMs are gone. You will delete every off-site copy while we watch. Then you will sign a statement that you conducted illegal surveillan

  • Mummies and their Badboys   Control Room After Midnight: 2

    Side Entrance and Offline Feeds💩💧Ash was gone nineteen minutes.I stayed in the producer’s chair with the session file open and the still image of his mouth between my thighs locked on my phone. The control room remained quiet. The monitors cast their soft blue light across the board. Somewhere in the building a compressor kicked on and then settled. At 1:48 a.m. the side-entrance sensor on my tablet still showed locked. I had not touched it.The hallway door opened. Ash stepped inside, closed it, and locked it from the inside without being told. His hoodie carried a smear of dust from the lower-level closet. In his hands were a small black network recorder no larger than a portable drive and two loose network cables.“Patch-bay unit was replaced,” he said. “Old housing, new board, cellular uplink instead of the hard line that was supposed to be dead after the rebuild. Recorder was tucked behind the switch stack in the security closet on the lower level. Live feed was pushing to an

  • Mummies and their Badboys   Control Room After Midnight: 1

    Muted and On Your KneesđŸ«ŠđŸ’§â€œOn your knees under the console.”Ash dropped without a word. Twenty-five. Dark hair still damp from the late session. The black hoodie hung open over a faded band shirt. A thin scar cut through his left eyebrow. He had a record for boosting gear and a reputation for hands that could fix a board or break a jaw depending on the night. I hired him anyway. People with his ears were useful when the mix needed to stay clean and the clients needed to stay out of the control room after midnight.I leaned back in the producer’s chair, the hem of my skirt already lifted. The only light came from the soft blue of the monitor screens and the red glow of the recording light that I had left on for the atmosphere. Outside the double glass, the live room was dark and empty. The last of the session players had left an hour ago. The building’s night system hummed through the walls.“Mouth only,” I said. “You do not touch yourself. You do not rush. You make it last until I

  • Mummies and their Badboys   On-Call After Midnight: 4

    Morning HandoffđŸ«ŠđŸ’ŠThe leave of absence became permanent on a Tuesday.I read the board memo in the attending lounge between cases, coffee gone cold in my hand. Daniel Voss had resigned his seat effective immediately, citing personal reasons. Counsel’s investigation was marked closed with no further action recommended against the hospital. The voluntary security notice had satisfied the medical staff office. No names beyond the investigator’s had appeared in any external communication. The attendings who still nodded to me in the hallway did so with the same distracted professionalism as before. Nothing in the air had changed except the quiet knowledge that the cameras above the sink and in Room 412 would never come back online without my signature.Cole found me in the on-call room at 12:50 a.m. three nights later. He locked the door without being told, set his badge on the metal side table, and waited.“Board’s clean,” he said. “No pending reads. Charge nurse is on the far wing for

  • Mummies and their Badboys   On-Call After Midnight: 3

    Three A.M. Stairwell💩💧Cole covered the distance in four silent steps.He locked an arm around the man’s throat and dragged him backward into the blind behind the linen carts before a shout could form. The camera bag hit the linoleum with a soft thud. I stepped out, picked it up, and opened it under the low service light. Another recorder. A spare lens. A folded printout of stills from the on-call room, my hand in Cole’s hair, his mouth between my thighs, the timestamp from the night before.Marcus Hale. Medium height. Dark jacket. The same careful face that had walked the hospital once last spring under the pretext of advising on after-hours security audits. He had stayed until the last trauma bay went quiet. He had always been polite.Cole eased the pressure just enough for him to breathe.“You’re done,” I said. “The on-site units are gone. The SIMs are gone. You will delete every off-site copy while we watch. Then you will sign a statement that you conducted illegal surveillance

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