The warehouse never slept, but at eleven forty seven pm, it finally sounded tired, just the low hum of refrigeration units and the occasional clank of a pallette settling. Everyone else had gone home hours ago to protect their bonuses before tomorrow's surprise audit, everyone except Brian and Serena. Brian found her in the far back corner Aisle nineteen, the one nobody ever used, because the overhead light flickered like
it was personally offended. Serena sat cross legged on a flattened cardboard box laptop, balanced on her thighs, black tank top, writing high enough to flash the lacy edge of her bra whenever she leaned forward to type. What are you still doing here? He asked. She didn't look up, writing dragon smut you looking for you? That made her fingers pause. She glanced up, eyes catching the sickly fluorescent glow. Thought you hated inventory week? I do, but I like you
more than I hate corporate. A slow smile curved her mouth. Flattery will get you everywhere, forklift boy. He stepped closer, boots quiet on the concrete, Read me something. Serena bit her lip, then turned the screen so he could see. He pinned her against the crate wall, the rough wood biting into her back while his hand slid between her thighs. She was already soaked for him, had been since the moment he cornered her like prey. Quiet, he growled against
her throat. The auditors are two aisles over. Brian's pulse kicked hard. Jesus Serena too much, she asked, voice husky, keep going, she did, out loud, while he stood there, getting painfully hard in his work jeans. When she reached the part where the heroine drops to her knees behind a stack of televisions, Brian couldn't take it any more. He hauled her up, spun her, and kissed her like he'd been starving for it. She tasted like cherry lip,
balm and sin. Clothes came off in frantic stages. His shirt yanked over his head, her tank top peeled away. Brash shoved down instead of off because neither of them had patience. Her breasts spilled heavy into his palms, nipples tight and begging. He groaned against her neck. Somewhere in the distance, the intercom crackled unannounced audit and progress all personnel remain available for questioning. They froze, lips still touching,
breathing ragged. Serena's eyes went one shit. Brian grinned like a devil. You wrote this scene, Remember getting fucked while the auditors circle like sharks. She laughed, breathless, reckless, and reached for his belt. Then let's give the fantasy a live reading. Jeans hit the floor, Her leggings followed. He lifted her onto a waist high palette of boxed air fryers, shoved her thighs apart, and sank two fingers into slick
heat that made them both moan too loud. Sh She hissed even as she rolled her hips against his hand. He replaced fingers with cock in one smooth thrust that buried him to the hilt. Serena's head fell back, mouth open in a silent scream. He clamped a hand over it, just like in her story, and fucked her hard, fast, filthy. Every slap of skin echoed like a gunshot in the empty warehouse. She came first, clenching around him so tight
his vision whited out. He followed seconds later, pulsing deep inside her while footsteps and clipboard voices drifted closer than farther away. They stayed locked together, panting until the adrenaline ebbed and the laughter bubbled up. We're so fired, she whispered against his shoulder. Worth it. They found their clothes eventually strewn across three aisles like a pornographic treasure hunt,
and snuck out just before dawn. The termination letters were waiting in their lockers the next morning, matching pink slips, matching grins. Six months later, the stream chat scrolled at warp speed, one hundred eighty thousand viewers. Dragon Smut Queen and Forklift King just funded my rent dropped the sex tape all ready. Serena leaned into frame, wearing one of Brian's old warehouse hoodies and nothing else. She smirked at the camera. Chapter one of the new book goes live
at midnight. It's about a phoenix thief who keeps letting the Dragon Horde keeper catch her. Very autobiographical Brian's hand slid up her bare thigh just out of frame, and we're celebrating with a twenty four hour charity stream. Every five thousand dollars raised, we read the spiciest scene live. Clothing optional, the donations exploded. Later, lights off city glow, painting stripes across their bed. Serena traced the line of his jaw. We got fired for fucking in a warehouse.
He kissed her, slow and deep. Best career move we ever made. She rolled on top of him, him knees bracketing his hips, already wet again. Round two, he gripped her ass and pulled her down hard on to his cock. We don't punch a clock any more, baby, We can go all night, and they did.