Page 32 of Full Service

I want to strip him bare and lick my way across his entire body and then watch as his dick sinks into me. Balls deep.

“What is it you need that’s so delicate and private?” he asks, snapping me out of my lurid thoughts.

“Oh, right.” I set my bag down and move toward his desk. “I’d like to ask your opinion about something.”

Silas nods and smooths his hand down his chest. That fabulous, broad chest.

“Of course.”

I move around the large oak desk and stop near his side. He swivels his chair so he’s facing me, and I rest my hands on my hips.

I can see that he’s breathing a little faster, and I want to do this before he changes his mind, unlocks the door, and kicks me out.

“I bought something for work, and I’d like to know what you think.”

He doesn’t respond, just squeaks slightly. Love it when he makes those noises. Really gets my gears going.

My fingers land on the button of my jeans, and I flick it open. His eyes settle on the movement, and I feel like the hottest performer in town. Shit, he makes me feel like a million bucks.

The zipper is slowly lowered and I spread the fly open, showing him the gold fabric of my jock strap.

His lips part, and he starts to pant.

Mm, yes. I want to see him drool.

“I had to buy this for work, and I don’t know if it looks good on me.”

It’s a ridiculous thing to ask, I know. It looks hot on me, but I’d sure love that reassurance from Dr. Sinclair himself.

My hands tug my jeans down and they pool around my ankles, leaving me standing there, wearing only my t-shirt and my jock strap.

I see the bulge in his slacks as he eyes me.

He’s hard. For me.

“What do you think?” I ask, and his eyes flick up to meet mine.

“I can’t say with that shirt on.”

My mouth splits into a grin as I whip it off.

Now all that’s left are my shoes and my pants around my ankles.

He runs a hand across his jaw and lets out a shuddering breath.

“It’s nice. Looks good with your skin tone.”

I nod, flexing the muscles in my stomach and watching as he lifts a hand, almost as if he’s trying to touch me before he curls his fingers into his palm and rests it on the arm of his chair.

“Want to see the back?” I ask, sounding far too innocent. I know exactly what I’m doing.

“Only so I can give you an unbiased opinion.”

I snort a small laugh as I turn and flex my glutes, making them round and hard. All those painful squats have been worth it for this moment. I peer over my shoulder at him and see him grind the heel of his palm against his dick.

“What do you think?” I ask. “Do you think people will like it?”

“Yes.” It’s clipped and strained. “Bend over.”