Working Too Hard? This Should Relax You!

Jena Larose knocks once and strolls into Brad Newman’s office, hips swinging, quarterly reports clutched to her chest like a shield. She drops them on his desk and leans in slow, shirt undone one button too low. "Running the numbers again, boss?" Her perfume hits him first—sharp and sweet—then her knees nudge his apart as she slides right onto the desk edge. Brad’s already stiffening in his slacks, and she spots it, bites back a smirk. She reaches over, loosens his belt, pops the button. His cock’s hot, straining through briefs when she palms it. Jena spits right on her fingers, wraps them around that thick shaft, and pumps him slow while she talks dirty about bonuses and late nights. He leans back, fists the arms of his chair, groans through a grin. Jena’s tongue traces her bottom lip, wetting it. She angles her wrist, thumb rubbing over the head, coaxing every twitch. Her skirt rides up, showing lace tucked between her thighs. When Brad grunts, muscles tight, she pumps faster, wrist twisting just enough to make his breath hitch. Cum lands warm across her knuckles, and she laughs—quiet, pleased—before licking a stripe off her hand and standing like nothing happened. "Paperwork’s filed," she purrs, licking her fingers clean as she heads for the door.