Nathan’s office smelled of leather, dominance, and late-night secrets. Leah stood outside the door for a full minute, heart hammering, n*****s already stiff and throbbing beneath her blouse. She hadn’t worn a bra. He told her not to. Her breasts were full again—aching, sensitive, heavy. The pressure had been mounting all morning, each tick of the clock pushing her closer to the edge. Every step she took down the hall had made her panties damper, her thighs tighter. Her body didn’t care about logic or shame anymore—it responded to him, to his voice, to his orders. And now, her boss—Mr. Nathan Graye, the man who sucked the milk from her breasts with greedy hunger—was waiting.
She opened the door.
He didn’t look up right away. Sat behind his massive desk, sleeves rolled up, fingers steepled
