Then she shoves me. Just enough to press my back to the filing cabinet. And drops to her knees in front of me.
“Wha—what are you doing?”
She doesn’t answer. Just reaches for my belt.
I catch one of her wrists. “Tori—wait.”
Her eyes flash.
And then shepinchesme. Right behind the knee.
Hard.
My leg buckles.
“What the fu?—”
“Shut up, fuckboy,” she says evenly, “and let me swallow your sorrows. Try and stop me again and I’ll do that to your balls.”
Jesus Christ.
My cock twitches before I can stop it, and holy shit… this is really happening.
Victoria Foster, the woman I am entirely too enamored with and who saw me not two hours ago in a nearly compromising position with my very married ex-wife, is on her knees, in front of me, about to swallow down my cock like a goddamn hoover.
I’m sorry, but, have I died? Because there is no fucking way this is actually happening.
She doesn’t smile. Doesn’t flirt. Just unbuckles my belt, pulls down my slacks, and palms me with single-minded focus. Her fingers curl around my base—rough, impatient—and then her mouth follows.
She licks the underside first.
Long, slow, deliberate.
And then?—
She freezes.
Tongue pausing right as she reaches the head. Brows drawing in. Her eyes flick up, just a beat of surprise before they narrow into something darker. Curious.
And then, she scoffs.
“You would.”
“Would what?” My voice is low, strangled.
“Be so desperate for someone to touch your dick that you’d let someone fondle you and stick a needle through it.”
For fuck’s sake. The last thing I expected tonight was Tori’s mouth on my cock, so no, I didn’t think to clue her in to a frenum piercing.
I groan and grab a fistful of her hair. She started this; now she better fucking finish it.
“Are you scared of a little metal, Tote? I thought you were swallowing my sorrows.”
Her eyes flick up, sharp and steady.
“Now, be a good girl and put my pretty pierced dick back in your smart ass mouth,Victoria.”
And, she does.
