Such a bad idea.... Really it was. Someone could walk in at any second and then you'd really be in trouble. A very bad idea, but gods did it feel so good! There was no way this was legal. Nothing this fantastic was ever legal and you would know, working for a government and all. For a breif moment you consider making a move to stop it but no, that would be an even worse idea. Who knew when you'd get this chance again. A quick flicker of a wet tongue slides across your skin and you drop your head back, moaning. Gods! Don't stop, don't ever stop! Glancing down and seeing all that violet hair and dearsweetsaintsinheaven!!!! It's all you can do to keep from arching out of the chair. That mouth.... Oh mother of mercy, that mouth! No, please.... don't stop! Silken hair drifting over your thighs, and that devilish tongue doing things that you can't even begin to describe. You want to throw your head back, close your eyes and just go with the feelings but you can't tear your eyes away from what you see. Green eyes meet yours, twinkling with impish delight and a promise of things even better. A strangled moan is torn from your throat and you can't keep from tangling your fingers in that gorgeous hair. You hear a nearly inaudible hum and this time you do arch from the chair, one hand scrambling for something to grip, fingers tearing at the leather arm rests. The iron hold you have on those tresses doesn't do anything to deter the actions that are driving you to the brink of insanity. Someone's begging, pleading for more, something, anything and you realize it's yourself. You never beg, that can't be you. But the half moan/ half scream that splits the air next is most certianly yours. Your whole body is arched now, desperately seeking more, and you can feel the sweat as it trickles down your forehead and cheeks. Oh please, just a little more, gods please!!!! Suddenly that wicked tongue is lashing at you, those sinful lips are doing something and you scream as your body is wrenched from your control. Both your hands are now clawing at the chair and some distant part of your mind notes that you're tearing chunks out of the arm rests. You writhe and twist, obeying nothing but what you feel, the passion that's crashing over you in wave after wave of euphoria. And just as suddenly it's over and you slump back like a puppet with it's strings cut. Those green eyes are watching you again, the wet tip of that tongue sliding out to lick away the last traces of the act in which you were most certianly a willing participent. Even as your body makes it's silent protest at that glorious abuse, you're grabbing a handful of those locks and tugging up until you can claim those pouty lips in a fierce kiss. From some hidden reserve you find the breath to tell her that you love her. And as you close your eyes, settling back into the chair you hear the whispered response. "I love you too, Vlademar. I always will."