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“So,” Logan said, staring at me while unbuckling his belt. “George. You
saw the liability report for Q1.”
With my lips, I mouthed, “You’re bad.”
“Yes,” George said. “I wanted to talk about the scatterplot in Section
24.”
He mouthed back, “I know,” then said, “Hold on.”
He took out his erection with one hand, while the other opened a
window of charts, stopping on a bar graph.
If he wanted to be bad, I was the girl for it. I kneeled between his legs.
“Yeah,” Logan said when I licked the length of him. “I see it. You have
it, Joanna?”
“Yes,” Joanna replied.
I took him in my mouth and sucked as I pulled out.
“So,” George said from above, “here’s where I think the data is—”
The rest of his complaint blended into a hodgepodge of nonsense as I
focused on the dick in my mouth. Logan rested his hand on the back of my
head, and while he was talking about insurance claims, I looked up at him
and opened my throat, taking him deeper.
He stopped talking mid-syllable, eyes closed.
Yeah, buddy.
This is how you do bad.
“Sorry,” he said to the team. “What I was saying was, there’s a way to
manage this that”—he gripped the wet hair at the base of my neck, pulling
me back a few inches—“can better stand scrutiny. Deeper”—he pushed me
back down, hard, and I opened my throat to take all of it—“if you will.”
George went on. Joanna said things. I sucked Logan’s dick until he
jerked me up. I stood, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand while he
scrolled through some shit in a separate window and his colleagues looked
on into blank space.
“Right.” Logan looked at me and turned me by the hips to the screen
and two people who couldn’t see my nakedness. “That’s mitigated in
section seven.”
With his foot, he pushed my legs open while describing section
whatever to the two people on the screen. That was when I saw the little
hand mirror leaning on the side of the screen.
Logan Crowne was more exquisitely naughty than I’d ever dreamed.