Brass Bang

Preston drops his pen and leans back, the paperwork forgotten. Miya watches him, then kicks off her boots one at a time. She swings her chair around, barefoot now, and rests both soles on his lap. Heat moves through the fabric of his uniform pants. He catches her ankle, rubs his thumb along her arch, and Miya smiles without a word. She stands, peels her shirt up, and steps out of the slacks, leaving only her dark hair, smooth skin, and those long legs bare. Preston stays seated while she sinks between his knees and takes him in her mouth. Her tongue works slow, wet circles, cheeks hollowing on each pull. When he is hard and glossy she rises, turns, and straddles him backwards, guiding him inside with one steady hand. Her feet hook behind his calves, toes flexing against his skin. She rides him in small, tight circles, her soles brushing his thighs each time she drops. The only sound in the office is skin on skin and the low creak of the chair. Miya keeps the pace deliberate, using every inch of him, until her legs start to shake and his grip tightens on her hips.