Ian walks into Natasha’s office already keyed up. He tells her he’s pent up because his girlfriend won’t touch him. Natasha wants to fix it and offers a three-way session, but that bombshell hits fast—Ian's girlfriend is a damn AI. Natasha watches his face fall and decides to cut straight through the mess. She slides closer, voice low and a little wicked. “You need skin, Ian, real skin.” He stumbles over a half-hearted protest but his body already says yes. Clothes drop fast. She shoves him back onto the couch, climbs on top, and sinks down until he’s buried to the hilt inside her. They fuck hard, sweat-slick and loud, every thrust pounding his frustration out until they collapse in a gasping heap, skin still humming with heat.
Ian walks into Natasha’s office already keyed up. He tells her he’s pent up because his girlfriend won’t touch him. Natasha wants to fix it and offers a three-way session, but that bombshell hits fast—Ian's girlfriend is a damn AI. Natasha watches his face fall and decides to cut straight through the mess. She slides closer, voice low and a little wicked. “You need skin, Ian, real skin.” He stumbles over a half-hearted protest but his body already says yes. Clothes drop fast. She shoves him back onto the couch, climbs on top, and sinks down until he’s buried to the hilt inside her. They fuck hard, sweat-slick and loud, every thrust pounding his frustration out until they collapse in a gasping heap, skin still humming with heat.
