[12PM] Permits Due
You watch as he looks through each page, his eyes scanning throughly as he goes back and forth. It doesn’t matter how well you check your work; you can always count on him revising it obsessively. Mr.Choi is just…like that. Everything he does, it has to be just so. He’s diligent, precise…someone who pays attention to the smallest detail.
“You’re so pretty like this,” He coos, his fingers rubbing diligent circles on your clit, delighting in how you writhe around under his touch. “Mr.Choi,” You whine, clutching at the desk’s edge, trying to keep yourself from being too loud.
“Looks good,” He says simply, tossing the manila folder into the tray at the corner of his desk. You nod, pleased at his approval. You used to hold your breath whenever he’d look over your work, but you’ve been his assistant long enough to know exactly what he’s looking for.
He lets his head fall back, eyes closing, fist tangled into your hair as you take all of him into your mouth. You swirl your tongue along his length, just like he likes. “Just like that, Y/n,” He says in a low, hungry voice. You love how he says your name.
“Will you be needing anything else?” You ask, standing there with your hands clutching at your clipboard, your posture straight and dignified. He shakes his head, waving you away, “Mm…nope, I think that’s it.” “Alright. I’ll be at my desk,” You bow, careful to do so with your entire torso, as you know how particular he is about respect.
His pelvis slaps against your ass loudly— so hard that your arms are the absolute only thing keeping you from being rammed straight through his office couch. You stifle your squeals as he drives deeper and deeper into you, feeling his entire length stretching you out deliciously. “You’re being so good for me,” He says breathlessly. “I am?” You ask, wanting him to praise you more. “Yes, beautiful,” He reaches down to gently caress the side of your face, all the while, still fucking you relentlessly, “So good.”
You turn to walk out, but he calls you back, “Oh, Y/n?” “Yes?” You look at him from over your shoulder. “I’ll have to cancel our meeting later,” He glances at you, “My wife is back in town.” “Of course. We’ll reschedule,” You say, shooting him a small, barely detectable smile, to which he responds with one of his own.
