Gomez
The show she put on at the breakfast table left me so stiff in the pants that I had to pull away from her to handle my business.
Of course, it did nothing to quench the fire of desire, because I pumped my c**k to the image of her spreading her legs in front of me, touching herself.
I inhaled deeply, the view of her pink p***y lips opening up to me, glistening with her wetness. She was dripping wet; her juices had even left an imprint on the chair.
Restraint—it was my restraint that made me not lap it up like a ravenous dog. That didn’t mean I didn’t wipe it with my handkerchief and put it in my pocket.
I exhaled and fixed my tie. Why the hell did bodyguards have to wear a tie anyways? What the f**k is wrong with you, Gomez?
It was only day two at this new job, which I liked so
