Distraction

The point

Bill's question, instead of chastising her, brought the smugness right back in her eyes.

"My point, Admiral," she purred, "is that military uniforms only interfere when one tries to remove them." A flush bloomed on her cheeks and her hand snaked down over his belly until it came to rest on his fly. It followed the contours of his growing erection and his eyes shut themselves. He strained not to say yes yes in just the needy way he felt and decided a little quid pro quo would go a long way.

Struggling to keep his eyes on her, he pushed the bottom of her panties aside and slid his middle finger through the wet folds. She rode against his hand shamelessly, her eyes closing in delight, her lips opening. So he pulled her close, slipped in his tongue and frakked her mouth is a slow counterpoint to the movement of his finger below. His other hand loosened her bra, baring her breasts. She moaned in his mouth and sped up her pace against him.

Her hand sought his zipper, missed, stroked his cock, and finally opened his pants and freed his hard-on. For a second she lifted herself, stood, allowing cold air to caress his cock, giving his fingers more access, but then she pushed his hand out of the way, aligned his cock and sat down, swallowing him in a sudden swoop that had him seeing sparks.

She moved in, pressing her breasts against his uniform and he once more regretted being dressed for missing out on the sensation of those nipples sliding over his naked chest. She rose on the tips of her toes to create movement. His head fell back when she sat down on him again. "Yes," he pleaded.

"Help me Bill," she breathed against his cheek, and he placed both hands under her and lifted her, feeling her sliding warm and tight over his cock, and let her down, then thought better of it and turned them both until she sat on the desk, his cock firmly embedded in her. Her removed the remnants of her bra, buried his head between her breasts and set the pace she deserved, the pace he desired. She quivered a gratifying stream of sighs and yesses.

On the couch, he saw Saul stir, and Bill quickened his pace, placing one hand on her mouth to stop her from waking his XO. Her eyes grew dark at the restraint and she contracted, orgasming around him in response to it. Storing her reaction in his mind, he rode her while she clung to him and his subconscious supplied him with bondage scenarios for future use, fueling his need for her, before he saw Saul's eyes flick open, dazed, and then focusing on him and on the naked redhead on his desk.

Bill's breath left his chest, but his hips bucked into her harder, unable to stop his thrusts, caught as a deer in Saul's gaze, until he erupted with a muffled grunt, spilling himself in her, his sudden release almost toppling him over, pushing her down on his desk. Catching himself, his palms sweaty against the hard wood, he hovered over her, feeling his cock slackening, but unwilling to withdraw.

He dismissed Saul with a flick of his eye, enjoying the view of Laura's relaxed nakedness in between his reports, her half hooded eyes taking him in with apparent satisfaction.

"You may have had a point, Madam President," he acknowledged in a collected professional tone, as if they had been discussing dress codes from opposite sides of the table all along, and his cum wasn't dripping out of her.

Saul grinned leeringly at him from the couch, raising a thumb, before turning his back on them and taking up snoring again.