It was late, and we had just closed the coffee shop. The lights were dim, the chairs were on the tables, and the soft hum of the fridge was the only sound left. I was finishing up in the storage room, stacking syrup bottles and wiping down the shelves. The air smelled like old coffee beans and sweet vanilla.Then I heard the door creak open behind me.It was Jordan.Tall, calm, always polite—but there was something about the way he looked at me sometimes. Quiet, but intense.“You alright in here?” he asked, leaning on the doorframe.I turned around slowly, brushing my hair back. “Yeah. Just finishing up.”He didn’t leave right away. His eyes lingered—especially on the way my shirt had ridden up a little. My stomach fluttered.“Long shift,” I said, trying to fill the silence.He nodded. “Yeah. But it’s been nice… working with you.”The way he said it made me pause.I looked at him for a second too long. Then I stepped closer—just a little. “You ever wonder what would happen if we weren’t just coworkers?”His eyes narrowed, but in that good way. Curious. Hungry.“I think about that a lot,” he said quietly.That was all I needed. I reached out, touched his arm, then slid my hand up to his chest. He leaned in. His mouth met mine softly at first—like he wasn’t sure I wanted it. But I kissed him harder. And then it wasn’t soft anymore.My back hit the shelf gently as he pressed against me. One hand gripped my waist. The other slid under my shirt. I gasped when his fingers touched bare skin. We didn’t speak—we just moved. Quick, breathless. My heart was pounding.The room felt warmer. I didn’t care that we were still technically at work. I didn’t care that someone could hear us. That almost made it more exciting.His lips moved down my neck. I held onto his shoulders, eyes half closed. Everything felt so fast, but so good. So right. My clothes shifted. His hands explored. We lost track of time.When it was over, we stayed close. I fixed my shirt and ran my fingers through my hair, still catching my breath.He smiled at me.I smiled back.We didn’t say much. Just a small, secret look between us before walking out like nothing happened. The next night, the tension was still there, simmering beneath the surface. We worked side by side, our hands brushing occasionally, sending sparks through me. Every glance, every word felt charged with something unspoken.As we closed up again, the same routine played out. The lights dimmed, the chairs were put on the tables, and we were alone. This time, I didn’t wait for him to come to me.“Jordan,” I called out, my voice steady but low.He turned, his eyes locking onto mine. “Yeah?”I walked towards him, my heart racing. “I can’t stop thinking about last night.”He didn’t move, just watched me with that same intensity. “Neither can I.”I reached out, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. His hand caught mine, pulling me closer. Our lips met in a kiss that was anything but soft. It was hungry, desperate. His tongue slid against mine, sending a shiver down my spine.My hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him even closer. His warmth pressed against me, his body hard and unyielding. I could feel his desire, his need, and it only fueled mine.“God, I want you,” I whispered against his lips.He didn’t respond with words. Instead, his hands moved to my waist, lifting me up and setting me down on the counter. His hands were everywhere, touching, caressing, exploring. His mouth left mine, trailing down my neck, nipping at the sensitive skin.I arched into him, my hands threading through his hair. His breath was hot against my skin, sending waves of pleasure through me. His hands found the hem of my shirt, tugging it up and over my head in one swift motion. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of me, his hands immediately moving to my breasts, cupping them, squeezing them. His thumbs brushed over my nipples, already hard and aching for his touch. I moaned, my head falling back as pleasure surged through me.He leaned down, capturing one nipple in his mouth, sucking and nipping at it. My hips rocked against him, seeking friction, seeking more. His hands moved to my jeans, unbuckling them and sliding them down my legs. His fingers brushed against my inner thighs, teasing me, driving me crazy.“Jordan, please,” I begged, my voice trembling.He didn’t make me wait. His fingers slid into my panties, finding my wetness, stroking me, teasing me. I cried out, my hands gripping the edge of the counter for support. His fingers moved expertly, knowing just how to touch me, just how to drive me to the edge.“I need you,” I gasped, my body trembling with need.He pulled his fingers away, making me whimper in protest. But then his pants were undone, and he was pushing into me, filling me completely. I cried out, the sensation overwhelming. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me to him, thrusting into me with a rhythm that had me seeing stars.Our bodies moved together, the sound of skin against skin, our breathing harsh and ragged. His mouth found mine again, our tongues tangling as we moved. I could feel the tension building inside me, coiling tighter and tighter until I was on the edge.“Jordan,” I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders.He didn’t stop, didn’t slow down. His thrusts became harder, deeper, pushing me over the edge. I came with a cry, my body shaking with the force of it. He followed moments later, his body tensing as he spilled himself inside me.We stayed like that for a moment, our bodies pressed together, our breathing gradually slowing. His forehead rested against mine, his eyes closed.“That was…” he started, but I cut him off with a kiss.“Amazing,” I finished for him. “But we’re not done yet.”His eyes opened, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Oh?”

It was late, and we had just closed the coffee shop. The lights were dim, the chairs were on the tables, and the soft hum of the fridge was the only sound left. I was finishing up in the storage room, stacking syrup bottles and wiping down the shelves. The air smelled like old coffee beans and sweet vanilla.

Then I heard the door creak open behind me.

It was Jordan.

Tall, calm, always polite—but there was something about the way he looked at me sometimes. Quiet, but intense.

“You alright in here?” he asked, leaning on the doorframe.

I turned around slowly, brushing my hair back. “Yeah. Just finishing up.”

He didn’t leave right away. His eyes lingered—especially on the way my shirt had ridden up a little. My stomach fluttered.

“Long shift,” I said, trying to fill the silence.

He nodded. “Yeah. But it’s been nice… working with you.”

The way he said it made me pause.

I looked at him for a second too long. Then I stepped closer—just a little. “You ever wonder what would happen if we weren’t just coworkers?”

His eyes narrowed, but in that good way. Curious. Hungry.

“I think about that a lot,” he said quietly.

That was all I needed. I reached out, touched his arm, then slid my hand up to his chest. He leaned in. His mouth met mine softly at first—like he wasn’t sure I wanted it. But I kissed him harder. And then it wasn’t soft anymore.

My back hit the shelf gently as he pressed against me. One hand gripped my waist. The other slid under my shirt. I gasped when his fingers touched bare skin. We didn’t speak—we just moved. Quick, breathless. My heart was pounding.

The room felt warmer. I didn’t care that we were still technically at work. I didn’t care that someone could hear us. That almost made it more exciting.

His lips moved down my neck. I held onto his shoulders, eyes half closed. Everything felt so fast, but so good. So right. My clothes shifted. His hands explored. We lost track of time.

When it was over, we stayed close. I fixed my shirt and ran my fingers through my hair, still catching my breath.

He smiled at me.

I smiled back.

We didn’t say much. Just a small, secret look between us before walking out like nothing happened. 

The next night, the tension was still there, simmering beneath the surface. We worked side by side, our hands brushing occasionally, sending sparks through me. Every glance, every word felt charged with something unspoken.

As we closed up again, the same routine played out. The lights dimmed, the chairs were put on the tables, and we were alone. This time, I didn’t wait for him to come to me.

“Jordan,” I called out, my voice steady but low.

He turned, his eyes locking onto mine. “Yeah?”

I walked towards him, my heart racing. “I can’t stop thinking about last night.”

He didn’t move, just watched me with that same intensity. “Neither can I.”

I reached out, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. His hand caught mine, pulling me closer. Our lips met in a kiss that was anything but soft. It was hungry, desperate. His tongue slid against mine, sending a shiver down my spine.

My hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him even closer. His warmth pressed against me, his body hard and unyielding. I could feel his desire, his need, and it only fueled mine.

“God, I want you,” I whispered against his lips.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, his hands moved to my waist, lifting me up and setting me down on the counter. His hands were everywhere, touching, caressing, exploring. His mouth left mine, trailing down my neck, nipping at the sensitive skin.

I arched into him, my hands threading through his hair. His breath was hot against my skin, sending waves of pleasure through me. His hands found the hem of my shirt, tugging it up and over my head in one swift motion. 

His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of me, his hands immediately moving to my breasts, cupping them, squeezing them. His thumbs brushed over my nipples, already hard and aching for his touch. I moaned, my head falling back as pleasure surged through me.

He leaned down, capturing one nipple in his mouth, sucking and nipping at it. My hips rocked against him, seeking friction, seeking more. His hands moved to my jeans, unbuckling them and sliding them down my legs. His fingers brushed against my inner thighs, teasing me, driving me crazy.

“Jordan, please,” I begged, my voice trembling.

He didn’t make me wait. His fingers slid into my panties, finding my wetness, stroking me, teasing me. I cried out, my hands gripping the edge of the counter for support. His fingers moved expertly, knowing just how to touch me, just how to drive me to the edge.

“I need you,” I gasped, my body trembling with need.

He pulled his fingers away, making me whimper in protest. But then his pants were undone, and he was pushing into me, filling me completely. I cried out, the sensation overwhelming. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me to him, thrusting into me with a rhythm that had me seeing stars.

Our bodies moved together, the sound of skin against skin, our breathing harsh and ragged. His mouth found mine again, our tongues tangling as we moved. I could feel the tension building inside me, coiling tighter and tighter until I was on the edge.

“Jordan,” I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders.

He didn’t stop, didn’t slow down. His thrusts became harder, deeper, pushing me over the edge. I came with a cry, my body shaking with the force of it. He followed moments later, his body tensing as he spilled himself inside me.

We stayed like that for a moment, our bodies pressed together, our breathing gradually slowing. His forehead rested against mine, his eyes closed.

“That was…” he started, but I cut him off with a kiss.

“Amazing,” I finished for him. “But we’re not done yet.”

His eyes opened, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Oh?”

Late night encounters at a coffee shop lead to a passionate affair between two coworkers.  The tension between them builds over time, culminating in a night of intense, breathless sex.  Their encounters become a secret, hidden beneath the surface of their daily routines.  Jordan and the narrator find themselves drawn to each other, unable to resist the chemistry that simmers just below the surface.  They explore each other's bodies with a hunger that can't be satiated, leading to multiple encounters.

He fucked me in the storage room after we closed the shop

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