⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⋆✼♡✽⋆∘∙⊱⋅•
I sat there, sprawled out across Mr. Fairchild's desk, and it felt like I was there for ages, legs hanging off the side, my body still buzzing from the delicious ache of being thoroughly used.
My ass had this wonderful throb, soreness that reminded me, with every subtle movement, of how deeply he'd been inside me, how completely he'd claimed me, even if he had run off the moment it was over. The air in the office was thick with the scent of sex, my slick mixed with his musk and a hint of sweat and I couldn't help but smile lazily at the ceiling, feeling like I'd just hit the jackpot.
Eventually, the afterglow wore off enough for reality to set in. I sat up slowly, wincing as the movement tugged at my sore muscles, and began to piece myself together. First, I grabbed my shirt all wrinkled and half-buttoned, still smelling of his pheromones and I pressed it to my nose and inhaled the addictive scent before putting it on.
