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I follow the angle of his gaze. My breath halts in my throat. The bulge beneath his slacks is visible and huge.

My stomach twists, low and warm. I grip the edge of the desk without meaning to.

Then his fingers lift—softly brushing the corner of my mouth again.

“You caused this,” he murmurs. “I was fine when she was here.”

His breath grazes my lips. “The moment I saw you, this happened.”

He pauses.

“You have to fix this.”

I lift my eyes. My voice doesn’t shake. “Show me how to.”

His brows lift.

I reach for his hands—fingers curling around his, light and certain.

“Show me,” I say again.

His voice wraps around me like velvet.

“On your knees, sweetheart.”

I don’t hesitate. I slide off the desk and sink to the floor, eyes locked on his. The cold surface bites into my skin, but all I feel is the fire radiating from him. He steps in, towering over me—body heat, masculine scent, and pure authority pressing down on me like gravity.

His fingers thread through my hair, firm but not rough—controlling. His thumb brushes the side of my cheek as I tilt my head back to meet his gaze.

The way he looks at me—like I belong here, like this—is a rush of arousal straight to my core. My heartbeat pounds against my ribcage like a fist.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, deep and dark, like praise forged into power. “Now unzip me.”

My hands move, trembling slightly as I reach for the fly of his pants. I tug the zipper down, and his penis springs free—thick, flushed, and already hard. My fingers wrap around the shaft. He’s hot to the touch, veins bulging along the length. The head is swollen, slick with pre-ejaculate.

“That’s it,” he says, voice dropping lower. “You’re doing so well.”

He gathers my hair again, more intentional this time, twisting it into a loose grip. It’s a tether. A command. My hand strokes his shaft instinctively as I lean forward, lips parted, unsure.

“Nice and slow,” he soothes, though the undercurrent in his voice thrums with control. “You don’t have to rush.”

I slide my tongue along the underside of his penis, tasting the heat of him, the salt. My lips close around the head, easing just the tip into my mouth. My jaw stretches, lips pulling tight, and I try to take more—but my gag reflex kicks in, and I flinch, the sound humiliating.

But his grip stays gentle.

“Hey,” he whispers, voice a low caress, stroking the back of my head. “That’s okay. You’re doing perfect. Just breathe through it. Let me help you.”

The way he says it—commanding, encouraging—makes my thighs clench. I nod, adjust, and try again.

He guides me this time, easing himself into my mouth, shallow at first, letting me learn the shape of him. My lips glide over the head, saliva wetting the length as I work in a slow rhythm. Every soft grunt from him is another jolt of validation.

“You feel incredible,” he breathes, voice fraying at the edges. “So warm… so good.”

I take more of him, relaxing my throat, letting the head of his cock press past the back of my tongue. He groans, hips twitching forward slightly.

“God, that mouth…”

His hand tightens in my hair.