True angel

Angel Pink called her boss over to talk business. Halfway through the pitch his eyes slipped to her legs and stayed there. Her words died in the air. He was transfixed by the smooth arch of her foot, the soft pink of her toes flexing just above the carpet. She watched the hunger settle on his face and decided numbers could wait. She slipped out of her heels, climbed onto the desk, and brought both bare feet to his lap. Her soles hugged his shaft, stroking slowly, while she leaned in and took the head between her lips. Warm, wet suction. Gentle, relentless pressure. She tasted him, sighed around him, and let her toes curl and flex against his skin. He groaned, hips lifting into the combined heat of her mouth and the steady rub of her feet until the afternoon blurred into nothing but skin and breath and the wet sound of her worship.