"Tell me what you're thinking," I whispered, emboldened by the raw desire I saw in his eyes. "I'm thinking," he said, his voice strained, "that I'll never be able to concentrate at my desk ever again." I couldn't fight back the smile that curved my lips. "Is that all?" "So eager," he purred. "But since you asked so nicely, I'm also thinking about my mouth on every inch of your skin, tasting you until you're sobbing with need," he continued, his voice dropping low. "About watching you fall apart on my tongue, my fingers, my cock, until you're nothing but a trembling mess begging for more."
