Arahan sometimes managed to wake up early in the morning—rare, precious days when his body didn't betray him with exhaustion. On those mornings, Sabiha would whisk him straight to the office with her.
She had turned one of the back rooms of the factory into a lavish, soundproofed bedroom complete with a king-sized bed, silk sheets, dim lights, and even a small fridge stocked with chilled water and snacks. It was basically their private fuck-den disguised as "executive rest space."
There, between back-to-back client calls or after a long meeting, they would disappear for "urgent discussions." Sabiha would lock the door, push him onto the bed, and ride him until both of them were sweaty and breathless, her heavy breasts bouncing as she whispered filthy praises about how good her young husband felt inside her.
By evening, when they finally returned home, Arahan's real shift began.
