Jan. Week 3: A Long Weekend-Monday...Lunch with Jonathan: Leah takes her "Kimchi Arancini" with gusto...

Leah parted her lips and found herself leaning in. The first taste of him washed over her tongue—a heady mix of skin, salt, something fierce and intimate. Her hesitation melted into action: she took him deeper, rolling her tongue along the underside, hollowing her cheeks around him. Every careful, determined bob surprised her with how much it pleased her: how much she wanted to please him. Howard’s breath caught, and he arched forward, encouraging her with a soft moan. Leah’s own hand wrapped around the base, sliding up and down in time with her mouth, fingers brushing against the slick length, guiding the flow.

“Mhmm,” he exclaimed, voice husky. “Perfect.” He closed his eyes, leaning into her rhythm, like she was exactly the spark he’d been waiting to ignite. Leah’s world narrowed to the taste, the warmth, the sound of him praising her without reserve. Under his gaze, she felt alive—electric. Every pull, every glide, cemented something new in her chest: a spark that refused to die out. Behind the door, the muffled clink of forks reminded her of her fiancé. But here, now, all Leah felt was this: the thrill of crossing lines, the rush of something dangerous and right, and the surprising joy of giving herself over to him. When her head tilted back on a particularly deep swallow, she couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped her lips—part defiance, part hunger, all spark.

“See, this is what I love about you,” Howard drawled, voice echoing slightly off the tile. “You adapt. No matter how strange the environment, you always rise—or, in this case, kneel—to the occasion.” He punctuated the last bit with a throaty chuckle, the kind that would have killed at a fraternity reunion but here just made Leah’s heart race. She took a breath through her nose, already feeling the ache. She’d learned, long ago, that men like Howard could be managed if she just focused on the pleasure. Mostly. She tried to go mindless, but the filthy deed sent sparks through her. He wasn’t about to let her slip away.

“You know,” he mused, “I never thought I’d see the day when you would be opening your mouth for some sausage in the middle of an Asian-Italian fusion spot. Life is full of surprises, isn’t it?”

Leah wanted to just bite down, but she stopped herself. Instead, she worked him harder, cheeks hollowing with each bob, the wet sounds of her labor filling the small bathroom. She wondered, briefly, if the servers could hear. Hopefully they had an employee-only bathroom.

“Shitttttt…. That feels so fucking good…” Howard continued through his moans of pleasure “I hope this tastes half as good as what you are gonna be ordering.” He smiled at himself as he looked down and saw Leah servicing his cock with her hand and mouth.

Even as Leah worked Mr. Howard's cock in the tiled bathroom, under his power and control, she surprised herself with how much she seemed to almost want this. Leah moved her mouth to his sensitive head and stroked his cock quickly as she bobbed on his manhood. She looked up into his eyes with a dark craving that Mr. Howard could read. It made him shudder.

“Going to make me cum already...fuck!” He groaned out, his voice’s excited tone adding to the degenerate sounds which swirled around the bathroom. “Shitttttt…. That feels so fucking good…” Howard continued through his moans of pleasure, “I hope this tastes half as good as what you are gonna be ordering.”

He smiled at himself as he looked down and saw Leah servicing his cock with her hand and mouth.

He was going to cum soon, Leah could tell (or at least she hoped) by the way his face contorted.