⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⋆✼♡✽⋆∘∙⊱⋅•
Mr. Fairchild's hips bucked involuntarily, a choked sound tearing from his throat. "Christ, Theodore—" His fingers tightened in my hair, trembling just a bit as if he was shocked to realize that his seemingly innocent Personal Assistant could even do this. "You… you have no gag reflex."
I pulled back slowly, lips dragging along his length, tongue pressing flat against him until he slipped free with a wet pop. I looked up at him, my lips swollen and shiny, feeling inexplicably proud.
"Perks of extensive… field research," I said breathlessly. "Don't worry, sir. I'm a great multitasker."
His eyes were wide, pupils swallowing the gray, and the hand in my hair slid down to cup my jaw almost reverently.
"Show me again," he commanded, voice rough with a mix of wonder and want.
So I did.
