Dry Paperwork, Wet Pussy

Veronica Leal sits across from him with a stack of papers in her hand. Red hair frames her face. Her blouse clings. She passes him a dossier, her eyes on his hands instead of the page. He signs without looking up. She slides another folder forward, waits, then stands. The chair legs scrape the floor. She unbuttons her blouse slow, lets it drop. Underneath, thin lace cups her breasts, dark nipples pressing through. A silver ring glints at her navel. Charlie still reads. She steps out of her skirt. The lace thong rides high, thin enough to see everything. She turns, bends slightly to set her heels aside. When she straightens, she moves closer, close enough for him to feel her warmth. His pen pauses. She slides onto the edge of the desk, knees apart, fabric already damp. He watches now. She hooks one finger under the lace and pulls it aside. Two slick fingers push in, slow, then deeper. A soft sound leaves her throat. She pulls them out, glistening, and traces a wet line over her clit. Her hips roll once. The paper stack sits untouched beside her thigh. He sets the pen down. She lifts her legs onto the desk, heels planted, and opens wider, showing the slick heat between her lips. One fingertip circles her asshole, pressing just enough to make her breath catch. The ring in her navel catches the light as her stomach tightens. She pushes two fingers back inside her pussy, palm grinding against her clit, and keeps her eyes on him while she fucks herself on his desk.