The ride up to his office is long and you take it as a chance to check yourself in the mirror at your back. Your hair is tight in a ponytail, just the way he likes it, and you’re wearing that black pencil skirt he has bought you for your birthday, the one he says that makes your ass look amazing — which is potentially the very reason why you are wearing it today — and a burgundy blouse to match your lipstick. The food you are carrying, honestly, is just an excuse to barge in his office without anyone suspecting your true intentions — which would be to leave a nice bright red ring around his cock — but still give a sign that you are not to be disturbed.
- Under the spell of a demon’s touch
This is only the fifth phrase. If this doesn’t give you a hint on how much filth I am putting in this fic nothing will.