The last petitioner had left. The heavy office door shut with a solid click, sealing the two of them inside.
Late-afternoon light cut across the desk in long gold bars. Mikasa stood at the side table organizing the remaining documents, back straight, movements precise.
The white blouse and dark skirt of her secretary uniform still looked perfectly composed—until Minato walked around the desk and stopped close enough that she had to tilt her head up.
"Tonight," he said, voice low and certain, "I'm going to fuck you in your room. In front of Eren."
Mikasa's hands froze. She turned fully toward him, grey eyes sharp.
"No."
The refusal was immediate and clear.
Minato didn't step back.
"We've already done it once. Your body remembers exactly how it felt when I buried my cock in you while he watched."
"I don't care what my body remembers," she said, but a faint flush was already climbing her neck. "I don't want to do it again."
She held his gaze. Even though Eren knew about the arrangement—had agreed to it because her stamina far exceeded what he could match, and because her position as Minato's secretary made complete separation impossible—she had never wanted to turn their relationship into a live performance. She loved her husband. That part was still real.
Minato closed the remaining distance. One hand settled on her hip, thumb stroking slowly over the fabric of her skirt before sliding lower.
"You're lying. Last time, the second you realized he was watching, your pussy clamped down on my cock so hard I could barely move. You were dripping down my balls. You came with your cunt pulsing around me while he sat there staring at the exact place I was stretching you open."
The memory hit her without mercy: the thick, heavy stretch of Minato's cock forcing her walls apart, the wet schlick of every thrust, and Eren's eyes locked on the obscene sight of her pussy lips gripping that thick shaft.
Her cunt had tightened helplessly, fluttering and squeezing as if trying to pull him deeper. She had come with a broken, shameful sound she still hated.
Heat flooded between her legs. She could already feel herself getting wet—slickness gathering against her underwear just from the recollection.
"That doesn't mean I want a repeat," she said, but her voice had lost its firmness.
Minato's hand slid fully onto the curve of her ass, squeezing hard enough to dig his fingers into the soft flesh through the skirt.
His other hand rose and cupped her breast, thumb deliberately dragging across the nipple that had already tightened into a hard point under the blouse.
"You're already getting soaked thinking about it. Don't insult me by denying it."
"I'm not—"
He pressed his body fully against hers. The thick, hard line of his cock nudged against her lower stomach, then lower, grinding slowly against the front of her skirt so she could feel every inch of the ridge.
His thigh pushed between hers at the same time, pressing firmly up against her cunt through the fabric.
"Your nipples are stiff. Your breathing is shallow. And if I slid my hand under this skirt right now, my fingers would come away shiny. You're remembering how it felt to be full of me while your husband watched you take it."
Mikasa's fingers curled tightly into his shirt. She should have pushed him away. Instead her hips made a tiny, involuntary roll against his thigh before she forced herself still.
The pressure against her clit sent a sharp pulse of heat through her.
"Eren fucks other women too," Minato continued, mouth close to her ear, voice rough. "You've both agreed to an open relationship. So why does the idea of him watching me sink my cock into this tight little cunt make you this wet?"
She turned her face slightly, jaw tight, but she couldn't hide the way her thighs had tensed around his leg.
"There's a difference. Him sleeping with someone else privately is not the same as forcing him to sit there and watch me get fucked. He never agreed to that. Last time… he was upset for days. You saw it."
Minato's hand on her ass squeezed harder, then slid lower until his fingers pressed between her cheeks, rubbing slowly over the heat of her through the skirt. At the same time his thigh ground upward in a deliberate, filthy rhythm against her clothed pussy.
"He was also rock hard the entire time. His cock was straining against his pants while I stretched you open. You saw the wet spot forming. He can claim he hated it, but his body was honest. And yours—" he rubbed more firmly, feeling the growing dampness through the fabric "—yours flooded my cock the moment you realized he couldn't look away. You came so hard your legs shook."
A soft, broken sound escaped her throat. The memory was too vivid now: the wet, filthy sounds of Minato's thick cock driving into her, the way her own juices had coated him and dripped down onto the sheets, the shameful knowledge that Eren could hear every moan and every slap of skin.
Her pussy had clenched and fluttered around that heavy intrusion like it was trying to milk him.
She was properly wet now. The slickness had spread enough that she could feel it clinging to her underwear with every small shift of her hips against his thigh.
"I don't want to hurt him again," she whispered, but the protest sounded weak even to her own ears.
"I know." Minato's lips brushed the shell of her ear as his fingers continued rubbing between her legs from behind. "But you still want it. You want me to bend you over in your own home, pull this skirt up, and fuck you while he watches every inch disappear inside you. You want him to see how wet this cunt gets for me. You want him to hear the sounds you make when I stretch you open."
His thigh pressed harder. The friction against her clit was deliberate and relentless. Mikasa's breath shuddered. Her hips moved again—small, helpless rolls she couldn't fully stop. The heat between her legs had become a steady, throbbing ache.
I don't want to do this to Eren, she thought, even as another pulse of slickness left her.
But it feels so fucking good when he talks like this.
She knew exactly what Minato enjoyed. It wasn't only the sex. It was the quiet, devastating pleasure of taking another man's wife so thoroughly that her body betrayed every protest.
He had done it to her once already—made her come around his cock while whispering filthy things against her neck as Eren watched. She had told herself afterward that she would never allow it again.
Standing here with his thigh grinding against her soaked underwear and his hand gripping her ass, that resolution felt paper-thin.
Minato's fingers pressed more deliberately against her from behind, rubbing slow circles over her clothed entrance while his thigh worked her clit.
"Your husband can say whatever he wants. This pussy is already dripping for the idea of him watching. Stop fighting it."
Mikasa's eyes fluttered half-shut. A soft, needy exhale left her. She hated how easily he could reduce her to this—how a few explicit memories and the right pressure turned her careful control into something shaky and wet and aching.
"I need time," she managed, voice rough.
It was no longer a real refusal. Both of them heard the difference.
Minato gave her ass one last slow, heavy squeeze, fingers digging into the soft flesh, then eased his thigh from between her legs.
He stepped back just enough to let cool air touch the damp heat he had left behind. The front of her skirt was wrinkled. Her nipples stood out clearly against the blouse.
Between her thighs the wetness had spread enough that the fabric of her underwear clung uncomfortably to her folds.
"I'll come to your home tonight," he said. His voice was calm again, almost conversational, though his cock was still visibly hard against his pants. "You can decide whether the door stays closed. But we both know what this cunt already decided."
Mikasa didn't answer. She turned back toward the documents on the table, but her hands were unsteady. Every small movement made her aware of how slick she had become.
The office suddenly felt too warm. Every breath brought the memory of the last time closer to the surface—the thick stretch, the wet sounds of her pussy taking him, the look on Eren's face, and the way she had come anyway, clenching and pulsing around Minato's cock while her husband watched.
Outside, the castle continued its usual late-afternoon rhythm.
Inside the office, the conversation had already decided the direction of the night.
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