Tan line on her ankle catches the light as she leans over him, stockinged thigh pressing against his face. Red polish glistens under the desk lamp while fingers wrap around his cock—slow at first, then faster, like she knows someone’s watching but doesn’t care. First stroke sends a bead of pre-cum dripping down her wrist; second has him gasping. When it hits? She wipes it off on his jeans with a smirk that says ‘You should’ve knocked.’
