Burning Edge

Ryan's phone buzzed against the desk just as he finished jotting down some notes for the meeting. He glanced at the screen and smiled before even reading the message.

Autumn: Finally finished those paintings I was stuck on. Three in one morning. I think that deserves a reward.

He chuckled, thumbs already moving as he texted back.

Ryan: You're a machine. Proud of you. Reward idea: me. Later. Naked.

Another buzz.

Autumn: Tempting. But I was thinking shopping. Might grab a new dress.

Ryan: Only if I get a private show later.

Autumn: Deal. When's your lunch?

Ryan paused, glancing at the clock on his screen. Still about twenty minutes.

Ryan: 12:30. Why? Gonna bring me food? Yourself? Both?

Autumn: You'll see.

He blinked. That was a shift. A little vague. Curious. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to ask for more detail, but her typing bubble had already disappeared.

Ryan: Autumn... what are you up to?

No reply. He leaned back in his chair, a slow grin tugging at his mouth as possibilities flicked through his mind.

*********

Ryan's foot bounced restlessly under the conference table. Charts, projections, the usual end-of-quarter chaos. He nodded when expected, jotted down bullet points he'd probably rewrite later, and forced himself to stay in it--despite the fact that his phone buzzed three times in the last five minutes. He finally caught a break when the team split off into smaller groups. He pulled his phone out under the table.

1 Video Message from Autumn

His stomach flipped. No text. No context. Just a play button. He hesitated--glancing around the room to make sure no one was behind him--then angled the screen toward his lap, popped his earbuds in and tapped play. It opened on their bedroom. She'd set the camera up on the dresser--he could tell from the soft angle, the way the bed blurred slightly in the background. The curtains filtered the sunlight into a soft glow that made the entire room look like a daydream.

And then there she was. Autumn stepped into frame slowly, wearing nothing but one of his hoodies--his old gray one with the frayed cuffs. Hair loose, feet bare, legs bare, face absolutely unreadable except for the smallest curve at the corner of her mouth. She looked like sin tucked into a Sunday morning. Then she spoke.

"Hey, baby. I know you've got a busy afternoon. I know you can't get out of that meeting." She walked closer to the camera, so close he could almost feel the weight of her gaze through the screen. "But I went shopping. Thought maybe you'd want a preview."

She turned slowly, showing off the hoodie--his hoodie--tugging at the hem like she was shy, like she didn't know exactly what she was doing to him. Then she faced the camera again. Still speaking softly, directly to him.

"I tried this on in the store and... couldn't stop thinking about you."

And then, just like that--she slid her fingers under the edge of the hoodie and pulled it up and over her head in one smooth motion. Ryan's breath caught. Beneath it, she wore lingerie that could've been crafted in a fever dream--black mesh and velvet, delicate straps framing every inch of her like ribbon. Stockings. Garter clips. Lace that barely bothered to cover anything at all.

He blinked. Swore under his breath. His jaw clenched as he gripped the phone tighter in his hand, thumb twitching toward the screen like he could rewind. His heart pounded in his ears. And Autumn, still facing the camera, let out a soft laugh.

"Still with me, baby?"

He was. Barely. Ryan swiped the volume down instinctively, but didn't dare look away. Onscreen, Autumn stepped back just enough for the camera to take in every inch of her. She turned slowly, showing him the back--where barely-there straps traced the lines of her body, hugging the curves he knew by heart. The garter belt sat high on her hips, the lace clinging like it had been made for her.

And then she turned again, her voice like silk through the speaker.

"You like it?" she asked, a teasing lilt in her tone. "I couldn't decide between this one and something red. But then I thought... black's more your thing. Especially when I'm not wearing much of it."

She walked over to the bed and eased down onto it, her legs folding beneath her. The camera caught the movement perfectly--his hoodie discarded behind her like some kind of victory flag.

She shifted onto her back, then slowly, purposefully, let her knees fall open. That's when he saw it. The lingerie wasn't just revealing--it was crotchless. Open. Obscene. Perfect. Ryan's grip on his phone tightened. His jaw ticked. His brain short-circuited somewhere between "holy fucking hell" and "I need to leave this meeting." Her fingers traced along her inner thighs, teasing herself in slow, lazy circles, just brushing over skin--not touching fully yet, just hinting. Building it the way she knew he liked. The way he taught her to like.

"You should see how wet I am already," she whispered. "You haven't even touched me, and I'm soaked. Just thinking about your mouth. Your hands. The way you look at me when I do this--"

She slid one hand between her legs and gasped, back arching slightly.

Ryan nearly groaned aloud. His leg bounced hard under the table, and someone beside him cleared their throat. He snapped his head up, nodding like he'd been listening the whole time, pretending to make a note on the tablet in front of him. But his thoughts were buried deep in the heat of that screen, in the sound of her voice, the way her hips shifted as she circled herself with deliberate, devastating slowness.

Then her eyes locked with the camera again. Her voice dropped lower.

"You're gonna sit there, baby," she murmured. "You're gonna keep pretending you're focused. But I want you hard for me. Right now. I want you dripping inside your jeans, desperate, thinking about me like this."

Her fingers moved faster. Ryan swore again, low under his breath, shifting in his seat. His erection strained against his jeans, throbbing, trapped. This was torture. She knew it. She laughed softly, breath catching.

"All those people around you," she whispered. "And none of them know what I'm doing to you. What I'm making you feel."

Then she moaned. Loud. Real. Ryan slammed his laptop shut like that would help. It didn't. Ryan stared at his phone like it had personally wronged him. He'd shut the laptop out of panic. Now he opened it again just to create a barrier between himself and the room--hoping it hid the flush in his cheeks, the ache in his jeans, the tension winding tighter in his gut.

His phone buzzed again. One final text.

Autumn: You're definitely gonna need headphones for this next part.

His blood roared in his ears. He adjusted his earbuds and his thumb hit play again.

Autumn was still on the bed, her legs folded beneath her now, chest rising and falling with barely-contained mischief. Her voice came through the headphones like a sin whispered straight into his bloodstream.

"You didn't think I only bought the lingerie, did you?" she murmured. "No, baby. I got something else too."

She reached beside her--off-camera for a second--and returned with it in her hand. Ryan's heart kicked hard in his chest. It wasn't subtle. A dildo, long and thick, deep red silicone that gleamed in the sunlight. She held it like a promise, fingers wrapped around the base, stroking it slowly as she looked dead into the lens.

"You know I only ever want you," she said softly, running the tip along her lower lip, teasing herself with it. "But when you're not here to ruin me? I like to pretend. I close my eyes and imagine it's your cock."

Ryan swallowed hard. He adjusted in his seat again, biting the inside of his cheek, praying no one called on him. His jeans were unbearably tight now, and every word she said only made it worse.

"Sometimes I fuck myself slow, just like you do. Deep. Steady." She trailed the toy down her chest, between her breasts, down to the bare skin between her thighs. "Other times, I want it hard. I want it like you give it to me when you're too far gone to hold back."

She spread her legs wide again, and without looking away from the camera, she pressed the toy to herself and moaned. It was loud. Raw. Ryan's entire body tensed like he'd been punched in the gut. He slammed one hand onto the table, pretending to steady his laptop. Autumn thrust the toy in slowly, hips rolling to meet it. Her moans spilled through the headphones, breathy and low, broken by gasps and words meant just for him.

"I want you watching," she breathed. "I want you hard and aching, with no way to touch yourself. I want you leaking in those jeans, thinking about how tight I am around this. How wet. How much I want you."

She pushed it deeper, faster, the rhythm matching the hitch in her breath. Her other hand slid up her body, teasing her nipple through the lace, tugging, twisting, just like he would. Ryan's eyes fluttered shut for half a second, overwhelmed, imagining the heat of her, the slickness, the sound of her in person. But when he looked again, she was still watching the camera like she felt his eyes on her.

"Wish this was your cock, baby," she gasped. "Wish you could hear how wet I am for you."

And then she let out a high, strangled moan that made his vision blur. He nearly groaned aloud, fists clenched in his lap, thighs trembling. The room buzzed faintly in the background--people talking, typing, turning pages. Ryan couldn't hear any of it anymore. He was locked into her, into that screen, into the torture she'd so perfectly designed. Autumn began to rock her hips harder now, chasing the edge.

"Are you watching, baby?" she whispered. "Do you see what you do to me?"

Autumn's moans grew sharper, breath hitching as she thrust the toy into herself harder, deeper, the pace of her hips frantic now. Her head dropped back against the pillows, hair spilling everywhere, chest rising and falling in jagged pulls of air. She looked wild. Unrestrained. His. And she never stopped talking.

"Fuck--Ryan, I'm so close," she gasped, hips rolling with desperate rhythm. "You should see what it feels like. What it sounds like. I'm dripping down my thighs for you. I want you to see it. I want you to watch me come--"

She cried out, her voice catching on the edge of it.

"I wish it was you pinning me down," she panted. "Holding me open. Telling me not to stop. God--baby, don't you dare look away."

Ryan didn't blink. She was trembling now, muscles tight, every nerve alive. The toy moved faster between her thighs, loud and slick, her legs flexing and shifting against the sheets. And then--

She gasped. Choked on a moan that turned into a cry. And broke. Her whole body arched as her orgasm hit, long and intense, her thighs shaking uncontrollably. And then--She squirted.

It burst out in waves, soaking the sheets beneath her, splashing down her thighs, over her hand, the toy. Her mouth hung open as her body convulsed with it, fingers still working herself through the aftershocks. She whimpered, overwhelmed, her voice gone soft and wrecked.

"F-fuck... oh my god..."

It went on longer than usual. Messier. Wetter. Hotter. By the time it slowed, her legs had fallen open again, trembling. Her chest heaved. She looked flushed, ruined, euphoric. And then her eyes found the camera again.

"Think that'll get you through your meeting?" she whispered, voice hoarse, lazy. A satisfied smile curved her lips. "You're gonna be so hard all day, baby. Don't you dare touch yourself. Not until I say."

The video ended. Ryan stared at the screen, shell-shocked, heart pounding, cock so painfully hard it felt like his jeans might split open. A voice in the room called his name.

He blinked up, dazed. "S-sorry, what?"

He didn't hear the question. Didn't care. All he could see was Autumn, spread out in their bed, soaked and satisfied, and knowing exactly what she'd just done to him. The second the meeting lead called for a quick break, Ryan was already halfway out of his seat, phone in hand, heading straight for the corner near the window where no one could see his screen.

His hands shook as he opened her message thread. That video was burned into his mind--every moan, every drip, every goddamn second of her writhing on their bed like she knew he couldn't do a thing about it. He didn't waste time.

Ryan:

You filthy, perfect fucking brat. I'm sitting here with your slick sounds echoing in my head and my cock hard as stone, soaked in precum, and you expect me to just sit through another hour of spreadsheets? You don't get to come like that and leave me here suffering. I'm going to ruin you the second I walk through that door. Face down, legs shaking, no mercy. And you're not allowed to come again until you've tasted every drop you made me spill in my jeans. You hear me, baby?

He hovered for a second--then hit send. His thumb trembled as the "delivered" stamp appeared. Somewhere in the distance, someone announced the meeting would resume in sixty seconds. Ryan didn't move. He was already picturing what she'd say back. What she'd wear when he got home. And how fast he was going to destroy that innocent hoodie the second he saw it on her again.

Ryan's phone buzzed before he even made it back to the conference table.

Autumn:

Too late, baby. You should've skipped the meeting. That toy you hate so much? Mmm, it's given me so many orgasms I lost count. I soaked the sheets. Twice. My thighs are trembling. My voice is gone. My pussy's still twitching. And you're not here. You chose the meeting. So now? You get to wait.

Another message came through right after, a photo. His hoodie. Still on the bed. Crumpled and soaked in the center. Her bare thighs visible just beyond it. Glowing. Marked. Still spread slightly.

Autumn:

Next time, pick me. Or I'll pick the toy again.

Ryan sat stone still, fists clenched in his lap, pretending to engage while the meeting droned on. Words washed over him like static. His cock was pulsing--throbbing--and every second that passed made it worse. He stared down at his notepad, jaw tight, pen unmoving. Then his phone buzzed again.

Autumn:

You ever been so wet it drips down the back of your thighs? That's me right now. Still stretched open. Still needy. Still aching. Even after all those orgasms... I can't stop.

Ryan inhaled sharply through his nose, shifting in his seat. His pants were sticky now--sticky--from how much precum had soaked through the fabric. His cock was a steel rod pinned between his thigh and zipper. Buzz.

Autumn:

I miss your cock. The weight of it in my mouth. The way you fuck my throat while you curl your fingers inside me until I cry and come all at once. I want to gag on it so bad right now, Ryan.

His pen snapped in his hand. A few people glanced over. He nodded like nothing had happened. A bead of sweat rolled down his spine. Buzz.

A photo this time. Her fingers between her legs. Slick and glistening. Two of them buried inside, curling like she knew he was watching. Her inner thighs were still wet, red and tender from overuse.

His lungs felt like they'd shrunk.

Then another message.

Autumn:

This is what you'd feel if you were inside me right now. Raw. Messy. So tight after everything I've done to myself. I'd squeeze you so good, baby. Until you couldn't pull out even if you tried.

His leg bounced violently under the table. He gritted his teeth and stared at the projector screen while his phone buzzed again.

Autumn:

You leaking yet? Are you soaked through? Do your co-workers have any idea what I'm doing to you right now?

He couldn't even look at the screen anymore. His pulse was deafening. Every breath was shallow. The heat between his legs was unbearable. He checked the clock. Twelve minutes left. Buzz.

Autumn:

I want you to come in your pants for me. Right there. In the middle of your meeting. I want to ruin your day the way you ruin my body.

He swallowed a groan so deep it nearly broke him. Ten more minutes, he told himself. Just ten.

Buzz.

Autumn:

Or maybe you'll wait... Come home full and aching, and I'll make you come so hard you'll black out. Your choice, baby. But I'm not done yet.

Ryan covered his lap with his notebook. He was going to explode. He just didn't know if it would be in ten minutes... or now. Seven minutes left. Ryan kept his eyes glued to the screen, jaw locked, hands clenched on top of his notebook like it would somehow anchor him to reality. His cock throbbed with every second--painfully, urgently--and his thighs were tight from clenching. And then--

One last buzz. He knew before he looked that this would be it.

Autumn:

Picture me on my knees. Naked. Messy. Mouth open. Tongue out. You just pulled your cock out. And I'm begging. Not for permission. Not for mercy. Just for your come.

His heart skipped. Another buzz. A voice message this time. Five seconds long. He plugged in his earbuds and hit play. Her voice was breathless. Wrecked.

"Come for me, baby."

That was all it took. His entire body tensed as the orgasm ripped through him--no touch, no warning, just raw need. His cock twitched violently inside his pants as he came, hard, soaking through his boxers, heat flooding every inch of him. He gripped the notebook so tightly his knuckles went white. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. He just sat there, rigid and silent, pulse hammering behind his eyes as wave after wave tore through him. His jeans were wet. Sticky. Unbearably warm. He couldn't even think.

Across the room, someone made a joke. Laughter broke out. Ryan didn't hear it. All he could hear was her voice in his ear, and the sound of his own breathing as he tried--failed--to recover. The last buzz came in.

Autumn:

You didn't wait, did you? Good boy. Now go clean yourself up. And when you get home? You're going to return the favor. Every. Last. Drop.

Ryan shoved his chair back the second the meeting ended, muttering something about calls to return, not making eye contact with anyone. His laptop was half-shut under his arm, and his phone stayed clutched in his hand like it was part of him now. He walked stiffly--calculated, careful, drenched in the kind of shame and arousal that curled together in a dangerous mix. His jeans were wet. Soaked. Every step rubbed the mess deeper against his skin, sticky and hot, and his cock was still twitching with aftershocks. It wasn't enough. Not even close. He felt humiliated and ravenous all at once.

The second the car door shut behind him, he let out a breath that sounded more like a growl.

"Fuck."

He jammed the key into the ignition and peeled out of the parking lot faster than he should've. One hand gripped the wheel like a vice. The other stayed on his thigh, fingers flexing restlessly. Her voice still echoed in his ears.

"Come for me, baby."

He slammed his fist against the wheel once, trying to calm the buzzing under his skin. It didn't work. The scent of his own release lingered--thick, musky, soaked into his jeans and boxers, smeared across his thighs. He hated how hard he still was. Hated how desperate she'd made him. How easily. He glanced at his phone on the passenger seat. A single new message blinked on the screen.

Autumn:

You on your way? I'm still wet.

He didn't reply. He tightened his grip and pressed the accelerator harder. His jaw clenched. His cock stirred again, still aching from being used without even being touched. The moment he got through the door, he wasn't going to speak. He wasn't going to ask. He was going to take her. Lingerie or not. Toy or not. She wanted to be ruined? She was going to beg for it.