Sin On the 28th floor

Emma just stared at the clock on her monitor: 8:47 PM. The office was now a ghost town, just the low hum of the AC and the occasional creak of the building settling. Most people had left a few hours ago , heading home to actual lives. She should have been one of them. Instead, she was buried in the wreckage of the Thompson campaign.The client had hated the latest visuals. “Too safe,” the email had said. “Make it edgier.” Edgy. Right. She’d spent the afternoon scrambling, reworking copy, swapping images, and now the whole deck was a mess of half-finished slides and caffeine stains on her notes. Eyes burned. She rubbed them, smearing a bit of mascara, and sighed.The encounter with Marcus earlier kept replaying in her head like a bad loop. His fingers inside her in the copy room, that filthy whisper calling her his slut. The taste of her own arousal on his skin. She’d gone straight to the bathroom afterward, fixed her makeup, and pretended nothing happened. But her body remembered. Eve

Emma barely slept. She tossed and turned until the sheets were tangled, the sticky remnants of Marcus’s cum from the night before long dried but impossible to forget. Every shift in bed reminded her. By morning, she’d showered twice, but the shame clung tighter than any scent. *Your stepbrother. At work. On your desk.* She stared at her reflection while applying concealer over the faint hickey on her neck. A scarf would have to do.The office felt different when she arrived brighter lights, sharper edges. Or maybe it was just her nerves. She kept her head down, answering emails on autopilot. Her thighs still ached faintly from being bent over. When Sarah, her assistant, popped in with coffee, Emma forced a smile that felt cracked.“You okay? You look like you pulled an all-nighter,” Sarah said, freckles bunching as she frowned.“Campaign crunch. You know how it is.” Emma took the mug, grateful for the distraction. She avoided the conference room where Marcus was supposedly in meetings

Emma’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking as she rode the elevator to the twenty-eighth floor. It was 7:50 AM. She’d barely slept after Marcus left her apartment, her body sore in places she didn’t want to name. Cum had leaked into her panties on the drive home last night, and this morning she’d chosen a dark gray skirt suit that hid the bruises on her ass. The hickey was covered again. Everything felt fragile, like one wrong breath would make it all shatter.Ryan’s text burned in her mind. *Emergency meeting.* She knew what it was about. Or she feared she did.The executive suite was quiet this early. No Sarah yet, no other directors. Just the low hum of the AC and the distant city traffic far below. She knocked on Ryan’s door, mouth dry.“Come in.”Ryan sat behind his desk, looking immaculate in a navy suit. But his expression was cold steel. He didn’t offer her a seat. Instead, he tapped his keyboard and turned the monitor toward her.Security footage. Crystal clear despite the dim lighti

Emma gripped the steering wheel tighter as the city gave way to winding country roads. The lake house weekend was a tradition her mom’s idea of “family bonding” after Richard’s big business win. She’d tried to get out of it, citing work, but Ryan had personally approved her time off with a knowing smirk in his office on Friday. “Bring that energy to the lake,” he’d said quietly after making her edge herself on his fingers during a “quick check-in.”Now she was pulling up the long gravel drive behind Marcus’s sleek black SUV. The house was beautiful in that expensive, rustic way: sprawling wooden beams, a private dock stretching into the calm lake, surrounded by dense trees that promised privacy but never enough. Her mom and Richard were already on the porch waving. And Ryan’s luxury sedan was parked right next to Marcus’s. Business associate, they’d called him. The lie sat heavy in her stomach.“Emma, honey!” Elena pulled her into a hug that smelled like sunscreen and lavender. “You l

Emma spent the rest of Monday in a fog. Her thighs still stuck together from the mess on the conference table, even after a frantic cleanup in the bathroom. Every time she shifted in her chair, she felt the phantom stretch of both men and the humiliating spray of her own squirt. Sarah had asked twice if she was coming down with something. Emma lied again, claiming a migraine. The corporate espionage folder sat hidden in her drawer like a live grenade.By 6:30 PM, most of the floor had emptied. Her phone buzzed with a group message.Ryan: *Boardroom. 7 PM sharp. Don’t be late.*Marcus: *Wear what you had on earlier. No panties.*She stared at the screen for a long minute, thumb hovering. This was escalating too fast. The interrogation yesterday had been raw and terrifying in its intensity. Now they wanted the boardroom the biggest, most exposed space on the executive level. She should delete the messages. Pack her things. Quit before she lost everything that mattered.Instead, she slip