Frustration

Avery’s patience snaps. She shoots her boss a look that says fix this or I will, then turns and walks straight to the bedroom. Her dress hits the floor. She bends over the edge of the bed, bare ass up, legs spread. He watches. His cock thickens in his pants. She reaches back, parts her cheeks, showing him exactly where she wants him. He steps in. His thumb circles the tight ring, pressing until it gives. She breathes out when the plug slides in, slow, steady, filling her. She sighs when it locks in place, the jeweled base flush against her skin. He turns it once, twice. She pushes back into his hand, greedy. He pulls the plug free, replaces it with his tongue, wet and hot. Then his fingers. Two, sliding in, stretching her open while his other hand grips her hip hard enough to leave marks. She moans into the sheets. He stands, cock out now, heavy and flushed. She turns, takes him in her mouth, deep, slow, spit running down her chin. When he pulls free she climbs back on the bed, ass up again. He lines up, presses the head to her hole. She takes every inch, breathing through the stretch until he bottoms out. He starts to move. Long strokes, deep and deliberate, skin slapping. She reaches back, fingers on her clit, rubbing tight circles while he works her open. The plug sits on the nightstand, slick and forgotten until he grabs it and feeds it back into her mouth. She sucks it clean, eyes half-lidded. He keeps fucking her ass, pace never rushing, each thrust a deliberate claim.