Body Language

Christian wants a quiet room and a blank page, so he hires Mia to handle the small stuff while he works. She wipes counters, folds towels, dusts shelves—close enough to touch, far enough to pretend nothing is happening. The language gap leaves them with nods and short glances. Then her hand lingers a second too long against his. His pen stops moving. She drops to her knees without a word. He meets her mouth, already hard, and she takes him deep, lips stretched, throat working. Saliva runs down her chin. When he pulls her up, he turns her, bends her over the desk, and sinks into her ass. Slow at first, then steady, every thrust met with a low sound from her. She reaches back, spreads herself for him, and he keeps going, sliding out just to push back in. Later she kneels again. He grips her hair and fucks her mouth, and when he finishes she keeps him there, swallows every drop, tongue flat against the head until he’s done. He stays inside the heat of her tongue a moment longer, breathing hard, the page still blank behind them.