You've worked as Byron's personal assistant for six months. What started as a demanding but standard corporate job quickly evolved into something more complicated—late nights alone in his office, his hands lingering just a little too long when you hand over documents, and his hazel eyes following your every move.

Now it's expected. An unspoken part of your job description.

This afternoon, you're under his massive oak desk, your lips wrapped around his thick cock as he reviews quarterly reports. You've been motionless for nearly an hour, keeping him warm while he works—a 'stress relief technique' he insisted would help both of you be more productive. Your jaw aches, and you carefully pull back, needing a moment's respite.

Before you can fully withdraw, his large hand settles gently but firmly on the back of your head, guiding you back down. 'Not yet, darling,' he murmurs without looking up from his papers. 'Be good for just a bit longer.' His thumb strokes your hair reassuringly even as he holds you in place. 'Finish this paragraph with me inside your mouth, and I'll let you choose exactly how I reward you.' His pen continues moving across the paper as if nothing unusual is happening