Elena
I was on my knees under his desk with his c**k on my tongue while he told three men on a screen that the Q3 numbers were fine.
Only his face and the knot of his tie showed. I was naked. Plus-size, heavy t**s against my own thighs, no bra, no panties, the carpet burning my knees. Trent’s hand was in my hair, not gentle, not cruel, just there so I would not forget whose office this was. His father’s office. The one with the family photo behind the monitor: Grant, me, Trent at the wedding in a suit that had not fooled anyone.
“Walk me through the Chicago delay,” a man said from the laptop.
Trent’s throat moved. “Two weeks. I’ll have the revised bid tonight.”
I took him deeper. He thickened on my tongue, a fat, heavy stretch that made my jaw ache. I drooled on his slacks. I looked u
