Finger F*cked Beneath The Table

1131 Words

Emma I barely make it past the front door before I’m throwing off my heels and racing upstairs. My skirt sticks to my thighs, moist and irritable, an incessant reminder of what took place in his office. The way he pressed me up against the desk, let me sense all the thick length of him through his pants. I didn’t c*m. He made sure of that. He just left me longing and leaking and humiliated. I’m at last home, after having been ordered about by Knox like an animal. What a jerk. My room’s door slams behind me. I pull my blouse over my head, my fingers fumbling with the zipper on my skirt. It pools at my feet. When the door flies open once more, I’m nearly naked but for my bra and those drenched pink panties. Knox. He comes in, slams the door and locks it. His eyes raked through me, I'm

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