Off The Record

Aiden Ashley's sat across from Kasey Kei all morning, pretending the air between them isn't thick as fuck. Camerawoman splits for a new battery. Door clicks shut. Aiden's eyes lock on Kasey's mouth and stay there. "Fuck this, Kasey. I'm done pretending I don't want you. After today we're supposed to shake hands and walk away? Not happening." Kasey's fingers twist her mic cord. "The story... if anyone finds out I fucked the reporter—" "They won't. And I don't care if they do." Aiden slides forward till their knees touch. "I've watched you talk about every ugly, beautiful piece of your life. I want the parts you didn't say out loud. I want all of you." Kasey swallows. "Dating scares the shit out of me." "So we take it slow. Or fast. Whatever you pick." Aiden's voice drops. "But pick me." Seconds stretch. Kasey exhales, shaky, then grabs Aiden by the collar and kisses her hard enough to knock both mics off the table. Aiden moans into it, fingers sliding under Kasey's skirt while Kasey hikes a leg over the chair arm. Clothes get shoved, not removed. Aiden's tongue finds Kasey's cock through satin; Kasey's hands fist in Aiden's hair. The table rocks. They grind, bite, lick. When Aiden finally sinks into Kasey on that interview couch, both of them gasp at once. No slow build. Just desperate, slick thrusts and the wet slap of skin while the camera battery waits in another room.