She sits primly at the desk, pen poised like nothing’s wrong. But those fingers? They’re not writing—one’s already hooked through her stocking-clad thigh. He peeks from behind, eyes locked on that perfect little ass as she moans low enough to sound like a sigh of relief. Flips her onto all fours right there on the couch, no hesitation—cock slamming home with every creak of the wood. Her head drops forward when he pulls out slow, lips parting for that first thick pulse against her cheekbone. Doesn’t even wipe it off before turning back to him with those wide eyes saying you can’t stop now.
