“Everyday it’s some bullshit, my word.”

Caitlyn scribbles harshly on a piece of document, trying and failing to ignore the soft brush of your fingers against her base. Tingles clawing at her spine as your nails prick her skin, eager to pull her attention away from the demanding paperwork and onto you.

The deadline is 3 months away, anyways.

“Darling. My dear, please.” Caitlyn groans, struggling to conceal the flush rising to her cheeks. Her mind slowly turning into a flustered gaze as your palms flatten against her sore shoulders, digging in to start giving her a massage.

“I, I am almost finished. I promise. Just a few more minutes and I’ll be all yours..”

Minutes? Try hours. You’ll have to do something about this soon.