Diana's tongue dragged slowly over the heavy, sensitive ridge of his shaft, collecting every slick trace of the supermodel's arousal and his own spent release.
No hesitation or gag. Her eyes were closed tightly, her hands resting flat against the hardwood floor to steady her trembling frame.
Ryan looked down at the dark, ruined mess of her blowout. The sheer black lace of her bodysuit clung to her sweat-soaked skin, rising and falling with her shallow, jagged breaths.
He let her finish. He let her swallow her own pride until there was absolutely nothing left of the corporate armor she wore like skin.
When the last drop was cleaned, Ryan's hand moved.
He tangled his fingers into the thick hair at the back of her head and pulled her upward.
Diana gasped, stumbling to her feet. Her heels slipped against the damp hardwood, her knees weak and shaking violently.
She grabbed his forearm to keep from collapsing.
