"Ahem, Utaha-chan, there's something wrong with this manuscript. Do you know how bad the recent reception has been?"
Machida Sonoko's face was flushed as she spoke to Kasumigaoka Utaha, her thighs pressed tightly together, back rigid against her chair. She didn't dare move—not when she could still feel Nanaya's thick cum leaking out of her soaked panties, threatening to stain her skirt if she relaxed for even a second.
Utaha retracted her teasing gaze when she heard this, her usual sharp tongue nowhere to be found.
"Sorry... I didn't realize I'd written it like that."
For once, the proud Kasumigaoka Utaha lowered her head meekly, offering no rebuttals.
"Utaha, you know the publishing house cares about results."
Sonoko's cheeks were still burning, her body hyperaware of the sticky warmth between her legs. The memory of being bent over the conference table just minutes ago, her blouse ripped open as Nanaya fucked her from behind, made it hard to focus.
"Your preview chapters have caused quite a negative stir. After discussion among the editors... your work will likely be canceled."
Utaha didn't question the lie.
The truth was, with enough revisions and aggressive marketing, the series could still recover. But that would only happen if Nanaya allowed it.
"Still, Utaha-chan, don't be too disheartened."
Sonoko felt a pang of guilt—she knew how much this book meant to Utaha. But her loyalty had already been claimed by the man who'd just reduced her to a trembling, cum-drenched mess.
"There might... be one way to save your work."
"What is it?!"
Utaha's head snapped up, desperation flashing in her wine-red eyes.
"You know the publishing house recently underwent a change in shareholders. The new author benefits were proposed by our current owner."
"If you can persuade him... there's still a chance."
"Where is he?!"
As long as there was even a sliver of hope, Utaha wouldn't give up.
"H-he's..."
Sonoko's shaky finger pointed toward the conference room's private lounge.
"You... you two just now—?"
"..."
A silent nod.
"Could you... check if he's decent?"
"He's presentable. If you want to speak to him, now's your best opportunity."
Sonoko's voice was oddly strained, her thighs subtly rubbing together as another trickle of Nanaya's cum escaped her.
"I understand."
Utaha approached the lounge with heavy steps, bracing herself for some balding old man or a greasy middle-aged executive.
She was wrong.
Dead wrong.
The person sitting there was someone she knew—intimately.
"Nanaya?! What are you doing here?!"
"I think the brilliant Kasumigaoka-senpai already knows exactly why I'm here."
"You already have a girlfriend!"
The realization hit Utaha instantly, though she refused to accept it.
"And?"
Nanaya leaned back into the plush sofa, lazily eyeing Utaha's curves. "Did you come just to scold me? Or..." His smirk deepened. "...are you here to pick up where we left off last time?"
"...I'm here to discuss my manuscript."
Utaha clenched her fists. "Can you... not cancel it?"
She had promised herself that if some old pervert or corporate sleazebag tried to leverage her work for sexual favors, she'd walk away—no matter how much the book meant to her.
But this was Nanaya.
And against her better judgment, her resolve wavered.
"Ah, the cancellation. Yeah, I know about that."
Nanaya chuckled. "Honestly, I was shocked when I found out you were the author of Love Metronome."
He was referring to that time he'd taunted her by claiming he was the writer. The memory softened Utaha's tension slightly.
"So... Nanaya, will you help me?"
She stepped closer, her voice dripping with uncharacteristic pleading. "Please. This book means everything to me."
"Help you?" Nanaya gestured for her to sit. "Why not ask that guy who bailed you out last time?"
The only available seat was the armrest of his sofa. Utaha perched herself on it, their bodies now dangerously close.
Nanaya could smell her perfume—something floral, undercut with the faint musk of arousal. His fingers traced idle patterns along the sofa's fabric, "accidentally" brushing against the curve of her waist.
Today, Utaha wore a fitted dress that hugged every inch of her figure, paired with the black stockings he remembered all too well.
"Ah..."
She bit her lip. Asking him—the boy she'd written into her novel, the one she'd given a romantic rival—to promote her work again?
Impossible.
"Fine, keep your secrets. But I can't just overturn the editors' decision without something in return."
His fingers crept higher, skating along the ridges of her spine until they found the clasp of her bra.
"Hn—!"
Utaha stiffened as his fingertip teased the fastener, her breath hitching. She stayed silent, pretending to consider her options while her body betrayed her, arching subtly into his touch.
Nanaya didn't rush her.
"...What about... what we did last time?"
Her voice was barely above a whisper. His fingers had reached the middle of her back now, tracing slow circles that made her skin prickle with heat.
"Not enough."
He pinched her waist, drawing a sharp gasp. "Senpai, you do remember I still have your little secret, right?"
"Then what do you want?!"
"How about a wardrobe change? I think it'd suit you."
"Just... changing clothes is enough?"
"Tch. Keep dreaming."
Another pinch, harder this time.
"...Fine."
Utaha relented. If repeating that was the price to save her work... she could endure it.
"Where are the clothes?"
"Come with me."
Nanaya stood, casually palming her ass as he passed.
"Ah—!"
She swatted his hand away, but the damage was done—her cheeks burned, her thighs pressed together just like Sonoko's had earlier.
"Sonoko, I won't be back with you tonight. Turns out Utaha-senpai goes to my school. We're grabbing dinner."
Sonoko only nodded, still limp from her earlier ravishing. Frankly, she didn't care where Nanaya went—not when her body still throbbed with the aftershocks, not when she could still feel him inside her.
She almost wished he'd ruin her again tonight, leave her so sore she'd hobble into work tomorrow with dark circles and a dazed smile.
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