Chapter 2 - After Hours

CHAPTER 2: AFTER HOURS

Mandla locked the door with a click that sounded too loud in the empty office. By the time he turned back, Amahle had set the coffee aside and loosened another button. The room smelled of rain, burnt espresso and the orange-blossom warmth on her skin.

"Come here," he said.

Her gaze did not leave his. "Yebo baba."

The words travelled straight through him. She crossed the strip of carpet between them and lowered herself in front of his chair, her braids sliding over one shoulder. Mandla opened his trousers with fingers that did not feel entirely his. When she took him into her mouth, slowly at first, he sank back against the leather and watched the top of her head move between his knees.

Amahle set the rhythm. Her hands stayed on his thighs while her mouth made him forget the unfinished deck, the client, the blue WhatsApps waiting on his phone. He threaded his fingers into her braids only after she tipped her chin up and gave him a small nod. The permission made his breath catch harder than the act itself.

"That is it," he said, his voice rough. "Do not stop."

She did not. She took him deeper, humming low enough that the vibration pulled a broken sound from his chest. The last of his restraint gathered hot and sharp, then spilled into her mouth. Amahle swallowed and looked up at him with the composed little smile she wore before a difficult client meeting. A thin shine touched the corner of her lip.

"Excellent work," Mandla said when he could speak.

"Thank you, sir."

"What time are you leaving?"

Her laugh was quiet. "When you make me forget it."