Work For Anal

Paige leans over the desk and waits. Mick keeps his shirt on, buttoned to the wrist. He watches her back arch before he touches anything. When he finally rests his palm on her ass, he just holds the weight of it—no squeeze, no rush. She feels the heat of his hand through her skirt. Neither of them says the word they’re both thinking. Later, after everyone else has gone, the office light stays on. Mick pulls his chair back and Paige steps between his knees. Her fingers go straight to his belt. He lets her open him up, watches her slide down to her knees. The first time she takes him in her mouth, she keeps eye contact. He stays still, hands on the armrests, letting her set the pace. She works him slow, pulls off now and then to catch her breath. Spit strings from her lower lip to the head of his cock. She wipes it across her chin and goes back down. He threads his fingers through her hair only when she starts to take him deeper. She gags once, steadies herself, keeps going. When he stands, she turns around without being asked. She peels the skirt up herself. Mick drags his cock between her cheeks, presses the head against her asshole, waits for the give. Paige braces on the desk. The first push stretches her slow. She exhales through it. He sinks in inch by inch until his hips meet her ass. Then he pulls out and feeds his cock straight into her mouth again. She tastes herself on him and doesn’t flinch. He fucks her throat a few strokes, then slides back into her ass. They trade like that—ass to mouth, ass to mouth—until her eyes water and his breathing turns rough. He pulls out one last time, strokes himself twice, and paints her face. Cum lands across her lips, her cheek, a streak on her eyelash. She stays on her knees while he catches his breath. Neither of them mentions the raise.