if your still doing the prompt thing how about 17, 23, 25, 29 with power!bottom claire being stressed and intern!reader offering to help but don't have any sexual experience so claire teaches them
Thank you so much for sending this in! I'm so sorry it took so long to complete, life got very hectic, but I have it for you now! I hope I've done this request justice <3
Afterhours
Ship: Claire Debella x Reader
Summary: When you, an intern working at the governor's office, offer to stay with the governor while she works late into the night, you find yourself in a situation you have only ever fantasized of.
Word Count: 5.8k
Disclaimer: 18+ ONLY, minors dni
Warnings: smut, hints at dark!Claire, pet-names, praise kink, degradation kink, fingering, oral, first time, virgin reader, legal age gap, power imbalance, mommy kink, begging, implied subspace
It's an open secret at the office that Governor Debella is paranoid.
If the extreme vetting process to just simply become an intern is anything to go by, the woman could use some relaxation time.
After all, a single intern hardly would have the ability to take down the political powerhouse that Governor Debella is.
Or, that's what you think anyhow.
You knew you had been lucky to land the job, the experience and credentials that will pad up your resume and qualifications that will come from working here, but some days, all you can think about is how stressed the top boss constantly is.
Being a people pleaser, being a people fixer, you started to stay late, wanting to get as much work done as possible.
Sure, you're only a low level entry personnel, but what you do helps free up time for those above you to focus on more important things.
After a few weeks of being the last one in the office, Governor Debella notices.
“Don't you have someone to get home to? A boyfriend, or a pet, or something?”
You nearly topple back in your seat, startled by your boss’s boss’s boss’s boss (seriously there's a chain of command here, and you're merely a bottom feeder) not having heard her approach from behind.
“Governor!” You gasp, trying to recover. “Uh- I don't- I live with a few roommates, but they never care if I'm there or not. We're all very busy.”
Governor Debella frowns, and crosses her arms.
“There's no reason for you to be staying so late. You're an intern. You don't get paid overtime.”
You shrug.
“I don't have much else to do. Call it volunteer hours.”
(And god, doesn't that sound pathetic, especially because it's true.)
Her frown deepens.
“It's illegal for you to stay and work without pay.”
“Are you telling me I need to start going home at quitting time?”
The words spill from your mouth before you can think them through.
There's a moment of silence, and for a second you could swear it's hesitation on Governor Debella’s face.
“No.” She says, after a beat too long.
There's another, much longer silence.
You hate the quiet, and you find yourself breaking it.
“Then, er, what do you want me to do?”
Governor Debella blinks, and it draws your attention to the dark bags underneath her tired silvery-blue eyes, her makeup must having had rubbed off enough for it to begin to show.
You suddenly realize that perhaps it's just as exhausting for her as it is for everyone else to deal with her stress and paranoia.
“Would you like some company while you work?” You offer, a gentleness in your tone that you hadn't made the decision to speak with. “I could clock out and then just… Sit in your office with you if you'd like. I know how empty the building feels when everyone has left.”
This time, you know you haven't imagined her hesitation.
“I'm under contract, anyhow, Governor. If there's an additional paper you need me to sign, for security reasons, well.” You shrug. “What's one more?”
Again, there's silence, and then…
“Call me Claire, if you're really willing to sit and do nothing for hours besides for staring at my office walls.”
You're a bit shocked she's accepted your offer, and you stumble over your response.
“I- oh. Uh… Okay, um. Claire.”
The governor’s lips twitch, as if she's hiding a smile.
“But not tonight. I was just about to head out, which means you definitely should too. Security won't stick around once I leave, and the night shift…” Claire scowls. “I need to remember to get them replaced.”
It's the most you've ever heard her talk without snapping at someone to do something, let alone to you.
“Isn't that what your assistant is for? To remind you or to arrange that on your behalf?”
“That's only if I remember to tell him.” Claire mutters, before shaking her head. “Shut your computer down, you're not staying if I'm not in the building.”
She waits, hovering over your shoulder as you listen, and she walks with you out to the front of the building.
“You didn't park in the lot?” She asks, when you start to head towards home.
You can feel your face flush.
“I uh… I don't exactly get paid enough to own a car.” You refuse to look at the older woman. “Usually I just walk back.”
“It's two in the morning.” Claire sounds incredulous.
“I have pepper spray.”
“No. You're not walking home anymore.”
Claire has her arms crossed again, and an all too familiar glare is being leveled at you.
Before now, you always thought it was an angry expression.
You're beginning to wonder if maybe it's a stubborn one instead.
You sigh.
“Well short of driving me home yoursel-”
“That's exactly what I'm going to do.”
You barely manage to keep your jaw from dropping as Claire turns, clearly expecting you to follow her.
You suppose if you don't, you won't get too far before she can find you walking.
Or if not, possibly fire you over it tomorrow.
You push down your anxiety.
Don't worse case scenario. You scold yourself.
Claire drives a nondescript silver minivan.
“I have custody every other month.” She explains your unanswered question.
Ah, right.
Sometimes you forget that Claire just recently went through divorce, that she has two little ones to care for.
You remember how the media had dug it all up, how they aired her very private life for the public.
For a minivan, it's pretty nice.
When Claire turns on the car, a few loud notes play, before she quickly slams her palm against the knob that turns the car music on and off.
You raise an eyebrow, but don't say anything about it.
Instead you ask, “how are they?”
“My kids?”
She sounds mildly surprised as she reaches for her seatbelt.
“Yeah.”
You click yours in as she replies.
“They're… They're okay, all things considered.”
She puts the car in reverse, and you rattle off your address so she knows where she's headed.
Her nose wrinkles, and you're willing to bet it's because you don't live in a particularly nice area.
“You had to hire shadows- uh, bodyguards for them, right?”
Claire's hands clench the wheel, turning her knuckles white.
“I don't know of any other governor who's had their children's lives threatened.” She practically growls. “It scares them, but they won't say anything.”
“I'm sorry.” You murmur.
Claire glances at your pale face, and she takes a breath, forcing her body to relax.
“It's not your fault.” She shakes her head. “They're my kids. I'm their mother. I'm bound to be a bit overprotective.”
You choke back an unamused laugh.
“You would hope.”
Claire gives you a quick look, before returning her full attention to the road.
“What makes you say that?”
Oh crap, you didn't mean to invite Claire to dig into your life.
“Er… My parents… They weren't the best.” You mumble.
Claire frowns, eyes still looking forward.
“How old are you again?”
“Twenty-three.”
Claire hums.
“And how much are we paying you again?”
You rattle off the salary.
Claire hums again, and then there's silence for the rest of the short drive.
When she pulls up in front of your apartment, you say, “this is it.”
You undo your seatbelt and open the door, moving to leave.
“I'll have the paperwork ready for you on your desk by lunch.” Claire says.
At your confused look she huffs.
“For your extended night hours.”
Oh!
“Right, thank you. And thank you for the lift.”
Claire nods.
“If you don't have those papers past lunch break, hound my assistant. Don't take no for an answer, I might not remember to let Brian know to expect you to be a bother.”
The word bother echoes around your head, and you swallow down sudden anxiety.
“Sure thing. Good night, Governor-er- Claire.”
“Good night.” The other woman says, and you shut the passenger door firmly behind you as you sprint into your building.
—»•«—
You do have to bother her assistant the next day, and the stack of papers Claire presents you with is frankly ridiculous, but you pull out a notepad, read them through, and write bullet points of what you're agreeing to.
You sign, and initial, and date.
And then you binder clip it all together and drop it with a fairly solid thud onto Brian’s desk.
“Governor Debella will want these to be scanned and filed.” You say, even as an intern knowing the procedure for important documentation.
The man frowns at you.
“You're not done.” Brain says, and then seemingly out of nowhere, produces another stack of papers.
You groan, but your impatience quickly disappears as you stare at the sheet of paper, towards the end of the stack, that says how much of a raise you're receiving for signing on to be Claire’s personal intern.
Claire's personal intern.
$47,000
That was $15k more than what you had been making.
What the fuck.
You sign the papers, and don't say a word.
Slowly, as the day progresses, people trickle out, until you're the last one in the main office.
Brain looks at you as he leaves, and nearly walks into a wall trying to maintain his stare.
You head towards Claire's office and knock on her door.
“Come in.”
She sounds frazzled, and you realize you haven't seen her flying around the office today as you normally do.
“Everything alright?” You ask, taking note of Claire's disheveled state.
“No.” Is the simple answer you get, and you don't push as Claire continues to frantically scribble something out.
You glance around, familiarizing yourself with the private office you so rarely see the inside of, and take notice of a little seating area, with two arm chairs and a very comfortable looking couch.
In addition, there's what appears to be a bar cart, but it's filled with bottled water and sports drinks instead of alcohol, as well as a giant TV screen and what looks like a game console hooked up to it.
Somehow, you can't quite picture Claire playing video games while at work, and you have to wonder if perhaps she has ever been forced to watch one or both of her kids while working.
You don't want to become an annoyance, so instead of pacing the space, you choose to settle into one of the armchairs, curling up with one knee to your chest, the other dangling off the side of the chair.
You stare at the ceiling and let your mind wander as you examine the embedded ceiling lights.
“This is fucking bullshit.” Claire suddenly growls, and the sound of a pen clattering against the plastic wood of her desk sounds through the room.
“What is?” You ask.
Claire’s head jerks up, and for a moment, she looks surprised.
“You're so quiet.” She says. “I forgot you were here.”
You shrug, and don't say I’m good at that, I've had a lot of practice growing up.
You do say, “I didn't want to be a distraction.”
Claire hums.
She does that a lot, you realize.
“Well, maybe instead I can bounce this off of you.”
She gestures for you to come around to her side of the desk, and you quickly skim over what appears to be a proposal for a bill.
“Is it even legal for me to be doing this?” You ask.
Out of the corner of your eye you see Claire shrugging.
“You work for the government office this will be coming out from. It's not illegal, just out of the norm.”
You make a noise of understanding, going over the contents of it, frowning.
“What’s the problem with this?” You ask once you're finished giving the proposal a once-over.
Claire viciously stabs a single digit at some handwritten notes laying next to her keyboard.
“This section, this sentence, this paragraph, this fucking word is wrong, but the thesaurus is being useless-”
“Whoa, whoa.” You slow down what was sure to be Claire spiraling into more stress. “What's the most important thing to fix here?”
Claire blinks, pauses, frowns, then flips through her notes.
“Here.” She finally decides. “This entire section needs to be completely rewritten.”
You scroll to the right place on the computer screen and read it over more carefully.
“I'm pretty sure we can bullshit what you want to say here.” You murmur half to yourself. “It shouldn't be too difficult, most of the framework is here, it's just about closing the loopholes and rewording things to be less polarizing.”
“You make it sound so simple.” Claire grumps, leaning back in her chair and frowning as she crosses her arms.
You shrug.
“I bullshitted my fair share of essays, the difficult part to it is having a decent outline, which you already have.”
The other woman grumbles something under her breath before sitting up, shooing you away with a flick of her hand.
“Alright, well if it's that easy.” Her tone is disgruntled, but her fingers are already clacking against the keyboard, and you take that as your signal to return to the armchair you had been lazing about in.
At the end of the night, she drives you home again.
It becomes a routine.
For the next few months, Claire uses you as a sound board during the late hours, and you've taken to bringing either a book to read or an adult coloring book to do while you sit with her.
And then something big must have happened in her private life, because Claire is an absolute menace even to you one Monday, tearing through the office morale like a hot knife to butter.
You don't dare say a thing, even when she snaps at you later that night for being incompetent, and you just sit and take it.
She doesn't mean it personally.
You know that.
But by the time Thursday rolls around, her attitude hasn't changed, and you've found yourself retreating, becoming as small and invisible as possible in an attempt to spare yourself from Claire’s wrath.
You hear shuffling from where you're curled up on the couch, and you look up, and find Claire downing a shot, a bottle of amber liquid sitting on her desk.
“I know I've been an ass.” She says when she catches your eye.
“You've been stressed.” You excuse.
Claire shakes her head.
“There are better ways of releasing steam.”
“Well what do you usually do?”
You think this must be the first conversation all week that Claire is having civilly.
“Get high. Or have sex.”
Your mouth drops open at her blasé answer.
“And I haven't been able to do either.” She complains.
“Well, er. I could- I could help. If you wanted. To- um. To destress, I- I mean.”
You don't know why those words left your mouth, and the moment they do, you can feel your face heat up.
Sure, you've begun to have the occasional fantasy or wet dream about your boss, but that wasn't the same thing as implying you'd have sex with her.
HR is going to have a field day with you.
You're going to be fired.
You bury your face into your hands, and when Claire gently brushes her fingers against your back, you jump.
You hadn't heard her move.
“Look at me.” She softly says, and you shiver at how low her voice is pitched.
“There's a good girl.” She smiles as you listen, and the pulse of heat that shoots down your spine makes you feel dizzy.
Her hand comes up to cup your face, angling it upwards and forcing you to meet her eyes.
“Do you mean it, baby?” She asks, and you shiver at the pet-name, biting your lip as you grow more aroused. “You'll help mommy destress?”
Your eyes widen at the title Claire has bestowed upon herself, and you flush with embarrassment as the whine you've been fighting to keep down slips out through your mouth and escapes.
Your boss chuckles.
“Such a sweet thing. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into, offering to stay so late with me, did you?”
You frown, confused, despite your ever growing arousal.
“Wh-what do you mean?”
Claire smiles, but it's a sharp thing that causes gooseflesh to erupt along your arms.
“Please, doll. I've seen the way you look at me. And we both know how aware you are of how… Lonely, I have been.”
Her hand reaches out, and she brushes her knuckles gently against your cheek.
“Say yes.”
Her voice is pitched low, and it makes you shiver.
“Say yes to mommy, and I promise, you'll never have to worry about a thing again.”
Perhaps it should be your sign to leave right now, the possessiveness that practically drips from the governor's tone, but all it does is empty your head of thought.
“Yes.” You breathlessly say. “Yes, I'll help mommy destress.”
“Good girl.” She purrs, and when your lips part to allow a moan to tumble out, Claire gently presses against your tongue with two fingers.
When you stay still, frozen and unsure of what the older woman wants you to do, she furrows her brow and withdraws her fingers.
“Have you ever had sex before, honey?”
Immediately you can feel heat rise to your cheeks as you shake your head, shame rising in your throat.
“I- I'm a virgin.” You whisper, tripping over your words. “This is my first time…”
You trail off, embarrassed.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Claire coos, her eyes sparking with something that makes you feel a bit like her prey. “Budge over.” She says.
Mindlessly, you obey, scooting all the way down, and Claire settles back against the arm of the couch, and she lazily smiles at you as she slowly, tantalizingly spreads her legs.
You had no idea a suit skirt could stretch so much.
You had no idea how well it could hide the fact that Claire wasn't wearing any underwear either.
“Teach me how to make you feel good.” You're flooded by a sudden need to please this woman spread out before you, a sudden desire to watch her come undone because of you. “Show me how to touch you.” You beg. “Please.”
Claire chuckles deeply.
“You're going to be so perfect for me, baby.” She husks out, and you can feel how your pussy pulses, leaking wetness against the material of your underwear.
Unlike Claire, you're wearing a pair.
A niggling feeling of regret bothers you.
You wish you were easily accessible for your boss.
You want her to ruin you.
“Come here, honey.” Claire beckons you with a single finger, and you're obedient, crawling until you hover over her.
She reaches her hands up, and oh so gently cups your face with her hands, guiding your head downwards until your lips are just millimeters apart.
One of her thumbs softly brushes over your cheek, moving back and forth in a soothing sweeping motion, and her silvery-blue eyes gaze deep into your own.
The moment stretches, and you grow impatient of waiting, and despite your heart hammering against your ribcage, you close the miniscule gap between your lips and hers.
They're so fucking soft.
Claire isn't your first kiss by any means, but you deeply wish it were.
You're moaning into her mouth like you're a slut, and when Claire enters your own with her tongue, it's all you can do to keep yourself from falling atop of her as your limbs go weak.
Languidly, you make out with your boss, and as you do so, one of her knees makes its way between the apex of your thighs.
When you instinctively buck into the touch, Claire pulls away, and breathlessly laughs at you.
“Remember, doll. This is about mommy, not about you.”
Your head is spinning from the lack of oxygen.
You whimper, and bite your lip.
Her expression softens, and she reaches up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear.
“Didn't mommy say that as long as you're with me, I'll see to all your needs? Make me feel good, and I promise, you'll get a reward, sweet thing.”
You drop your head against her shoulder, and the whine that escapes you causes Claire to reach up and stroke at your hair.
“Let me show you how to touch mommy, baby. Let me show you how she likes to be pleasured.”
It's not fair, you think. No one woman should have the right to say things like that in such a husky sounding voice.
Your pussy throbs.
You lift your head up, and shift your weight, settling back so that you're straddling Claire.
“Please mommy, teach me.” You beg, and the older woman groans at the plain desperation that drips from your tone. “Teach me how to make you scream for your baby.”
At the word ‘scream’, Claire's eyes light up, something that simultaneously sends a shiver of fear through your body, but also a shiver of anticipation.
“You want to make mommy scream, doll? Get off, and I'll show you how.”
Gracelessly you tumble off of Claire and onto the floor, and she shakes her head as she laughs.
“You’re adorable, sweetheart.”
She stands, and as she walks back to her desk, she strips, carelessly leaving her clothes crumbled on the floor.
As she settles back into her leather seat, she spreads her legs wide in a clear order.
Her gaze feels intense as she watches you wobble over to her, before you collapse, dropping to your knees, your legs unable to continue to support your weight.
Your head spins as the scent of Claire’s arousal overwhelms you, and you look up at your boss with wide, pleading eyes.
She chuckles, and her hand comes down to pet your hair, before they tangle and tug at you.
“M-mommy!” You protest. “I still don't know what to do!”
Claire groans, but she doesn't stop guiding you forward.
“You're smart, doll. I'm sure you can figure it out.”
You whimper, but don't protest further, and then the older woman's cunt is directly in your face, and you're powerless as you stick your tongue out hesitantly.
You give her a taste test.
The wetness that is slowly dripping from Claire is a bit salty, but mostly, it just tastes musky.
It isn't bad.
It's just… New.
You give Claire’s pussy a few more tiny little licks, trying to acclimate to her taste, and she tightens her hold on your hair.
“I thought you wanted to make mommy scream.” She bites out, yanking you flush against her pulsing center. “So do it. Mommy needs to relax, and you're going to help.”
Helplessly, you do as Claire commands, and you start lapping at her earnestly.
When she lets out an unrestrained moan above you, you can't help but moan in return, and Claire gasps.
She yanks your head back, her chest heaving slightly, pupils blown wide.
“I never thought you could make such sweet noises, baby.” She breathlessly says.
You feel heat rushing to your face, and Claire's free hand grips your chin when you try to look away.
“Neither did I.” You whisper, ashamed.
Claire tsks.
“None of that now, honey, mommy wants to hear you again. Moan for me.”
Your mouth drops open, and your mind goes blank as you try to process your boss’s demand.
Her grip tightens.
“I said moan for me, bitch.”
It tumbles involuntarily from your mouth, loud and uncontrolled, and Claire's grip on your chin turns painfully.
“Does that turn you on? For mommy to degrade you like the little fucking slut you are?”
The noise you make in response causes Claire’s eyes to glint as she smirks.
“Who knew beneath all that innocence was a whore.” She coos, before jerking your head forward in a clear demand.
You eat her out for what feels like ages, the taste of Claire filling your senses, and you grow progressively lightheaded.
You find your thoughts slipping away as you become utterly focused on not letting one drop of your boss’s wetness to escape your tongue, and you find your hands keeping her legs spread apart as you become more eager in your ministrations.
You feel drunk as Claire begins to make higher and higher pitched noises until finally, she goes so high, it's a shrill thing that your ears can barely withstand, and there's a wetness soaking your face that isn't from how vigorously you had been pleasuring her.
She hasn't told you to stop, though, and you find yourself not wanting to regardless, so you continue to lap at her until she harshly jerks your head away.
“Enough.” She pants, eyes closed, chest heaving. “Enough.”
Your head spins, and you feel dizzy as you stare, memorized by the woman above you.
You open your mouth, aware there's something you want to ask, but you can't seem to conjure enough words in your mind to even speak them aloud.
Silvery-blue eyes open, and the most self satisfied smirk you have ever seen curls at the edges of Claire’s lips.
“How precious.” She murmurs, before sticking her heeled foot out.
You hadn't noticed that despite shedding her clothes, the older woman had kept her shoewear on.
“Why don't you make yourself feel good, and put on a pretty show for mommy, hm?”
You slowly close your mouth, becoming aware it's been hanging open, and give your boss a confused look.
Claire sighs.
“That's right, you really don't have any experience. Could have fooled me, with how well you've made me cum, doll.”
You flush, uncertain if it's from the praise or from the degradation.
You watch as Claire carefully stands, and you're startled when she hisses, her left leg buckling from how loose and relaxed her muscles have become.
“Strip.” Claire orders, her knuckles white from how hard she's clutching at her desk. “And then lay back on the couch.”
You scramble, tugging your shirt off as you simultaneously attempt to undo the button of your pants, and you wind up tripping, falling to the floor.
Claire's laughter causes your face to heat up.
“Looks like my baby needs my help, hm?” She giggles, toeing off her heels so that she can walk properly.
You whine, and can feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes with embarrassment.
“Aw, sweetheart.” Claire pouts. “Mommy thinks you're cute for being so eager. No need to be so sad over it.”
You whine again, but slowly force yourself to sit up.
“Mommy.” You whimper. “Jus’ wanted to feel good.”
The older woman’s amused expression visibly softens, and warm hands reach for you.
You stand with Claire's help, and she almost reverently helps you undress, gently kissing each newly revealed piece of skin.
“Look at this beautiful body, honey. Just so perfect for me.”
Unable to bear the compliment, you choose instead to bury your head against the upper part of Claire's chest.
She coos, and runs her fingers through your hair.
“Oh, sweet thing. Is my baby feeling shy?”
You nod against her, noticing the soft smell of vanilla.
You've never noticed it before.
You had thought it was maybe the air refresher in Claire's office, but no.
It's her.
Your head spins.
And you're so wet.
Claire's laugh rumbles against you, and she easily guides you towards the couch.
You only grow steadily redder as she pulls your legs apart, kissing her way up from one ankle, and then kisses her way back down the other, over and over until you're squirming with your need.
“Mommy, please!” You cry.
Claire groans, eyes fluttering shut for a few moments, before she pulls you close, hooking your legs over her shoulders.
When she noses at your clit, your hands find her hair, and she tsks.
“No, doll. I won't reward you if you pull at my hair.”
Reluctantly, you release your grip, and bury your fingers against the cushion of the couch instead.
“Good girl.” Claire praises, and you moan softly in response.
When her tongue presses against you, you shudder at the new sensation.
It's wet and warm and slightly rough, and–
“Oh, fuck!” You cry out. “Fuck, mommy!”
Claire's hands harshly grip at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, making you whimper, but she continues to lavish her tongue over your clit, and you begin to squirm in earnest.
You've masterbated plenty of times, and have a few toys in your bedside drawer, but that is nothing compared to the older woman’s touch.
Within a few minutes, you're already near orgasm, and you chase the release, fighting the urge to bring your hands back up to tangle into Claire's hair.
And then right when you're about to reach that high, the moment before the waves of pleasure can overwhelm you, she pulls away, and you loudly sob.
“No, please.” You gasp.
Claire smirks, and you whimper at how lustful her gaze is, at how your wetness glistens on the bottom half of her face.
“You want to cum, baby?” She mocks you, pouting. “You want mommy to let you feel good? Then beg for it. I need to hear my cute little doll ask for permission first.”
You whimper.
“Please, mommy.” You can feel tears start to gather with how badly you want this. “Please let your baby cum, I wanna cum for you, I wanna feel good, please, please, please!”
“Hm…” Claire hums.
“Please.” The tears start to roll down your cheeks. “I wanna to cum, mommy. I want you to make me cum, please.”
You let out a sob of desperation when a single digit finds your swollen clit, and lightly begins to circle it.
“Please.” You whisper, your voice getting caught in your throat.
For a moment, you think your boss is going to deny you, and you open your mouth to continue to beg, when instead you gasp, two of Claire’s fingers suddenly stretching you open.
You let out a high pitch noise when she curls the digits, pleasure burning through you, and you buck your hips.
“Mommy, mommy, mommy!” You chant, unable to form any other thought, let alone words.
“Cum for me, princess.” Claire softly orders, and as if your body was designed to obey her every desire, you convulse, a scream tearing it's way from your throat as she continues to finger fuck you, the gushing wetness weeping from your pussy causing a squelching noise, and you writhe as you ride the high.
“Fuck, baby.” Claire groans. “I want you to come for me again.”
You squirm desperately, the aftershocks still pulsing through you, but Claire is stronger than your now limp body, and she thumbs at your clit, sending electric waves up your spine, causing your back to arch painfully.
“FUCK!” You cry out, unable to control your volume, and you can barely hear Claire's responding moan over the static in your ears as a new wave of ecstasy crashes over you.
You're gasping for air with how it steals your breath away, and when Claire collapses on top of you, you gladly welcome it, despite how it further suffocates your lungs of oxygen.
She smells so good. You think as you start to come back to your senses.
The scent of vanilla is still prominent, but it's now mixed with the smell of Claire’s sweat.
Somehow, it's more appealing.
The smell of sex still hangs heavy in the air, and you throb as your body unfairly grows more aroused again.
“Mommy.” You whisper.
Claire groans, burying her head further against your neck.
“You smell so good, princess.” She says. “And you look so beautiful when I fuck your brains out.”
A whimper catches in the back of your throat.
Claire finally moves, shifting until she's sitting upright, and you don't think she's ever looked as enthralling as does now.
Her cheeks are flushed, and you can clearly see faint freckles that are usually hidden under a layer of makeup that Claire must have sweated off, and her hair has gone from stick straight to gentle waves, a halo of frizz framing her face.
You lose yourself in her eyes, at how she smiles so tenderly as she helps you up and to the private attached bathroom in her office.
“Let's get cleaned up, doll.” She says, and you grin goofily at her.
Your head is still spinning.
She giggles, a light sound that makes you join in once a light snort causes her to double over.
“You're so cute.” She smiles, and you obediently spread your legs when she taps your thigh.
She gently runs the wash cloth in her hand over the sticky residue of your arousal, and you flinch every time she passes over your clit.
“You’re still so sensitive.” She breathes out. “Did mommy not satisfy you, doll? Do you want mommy to keep going until it hurts for me to?”
“I- ah!” You cry out when Claire firmly swipes the cloth over your swollen bud. “I just want to be good.”
Claire peers up at you, and you hold your breath as she weighs your words.
“Next time then, maybe.” She decides, and you aren't sure if your shoulders slump with relief or disappointment.
She finishes cleaning you up, before moving on to herself, telling you to wait as she does so.
You watch as her back muscles move with her motions, and you can't resist the urge to kiss them, to nip at them.
Who knew the governor would have such fairly well defined muscles?
“Baby.” Claire warns.
“Mmm… Mommy.” You reply, before darting the tip of your tongue out against her warm skin.
“Baby, if you want to go home, you'll stop.”
“But you're so pretty. I can't help it.”
Claire turns around, shaking her head.
“You're adorable, honey. Come on, let's get dressed so we can head home.”
Claire has to help you into your shirt and pants, and you don't notice when she pockets your underwear instead of giving it back to you when she spots it under the couch.
Before you leave, your boss insists on watching you drink a glass of water, predicting you'll be too tired to do so once she drops you off at home, expressing how important it is to her that you take care of yourself.
By the time you get to her car, you're stumbling with exhaustion, beginning to crash as the endorphin high wears off.
You can't keep your eyes open once she starts driving, and when you let out a huge yawn, Claire glances at you.
“Go to sleep, baby.” She soothingly says. “I'll wake you up when we get home.”
You're used to listening when she asks you of something, and so you don't think twice as you finally allow your eyes to stay close, and you drift off, Claire's warm hand on your thigh.
