Taking Care Of The Boss

Korra shuts the door behind her, already tasting him in her mind. He's behind that desk, jaw tight, stress carving lines around his mouth. She likes it when he's wound up—she's got the cure between her thighs. She kneels before he tells her. Belt snaps open, his cock springs free, heavy and hot in her palm. She licks him root to tip, gets it wet, then sinks down until her nose brushes his stomach. No teasing now. She works fast—lips tight, tongue flat, spit running down his balls—while his hand knots in her hair and holds her there. The sound she makes is filthy, greedy. He drags her up, spins her. Pencils scatter as she lands bent over oak. He yanks her skirt above her hips, finds she's already bare, already dripping. One shove and he's buried in her ass, stretching her open on a single stroke. She gasps, half pain, half need. He doesn't slow down. Each thrust slams the desk against the wall, skin smacking skin. Her fingers claw at wood for purchase while he fucks her deep, hard, driving every last inch into her clenching hole. When he's close he pulls out, hauls her to her knees again. She opens wide, tongue out, eyes locked on his. He strokes twice and unloads across it—thick, hot ropes she swallows without blinking, smiling when the taste hits and the last drip lands on her chin.