Cass ran her fingers through her tangled hair, doing her best to smooth down the sex tangled strands. Her breaths were still shallow, her skin flushed, her expression half dazed-half annoyed. Across from her, Uriel lounged back in his office chair, arms resting on the armrests like a king on his throne, a self-satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. The pink vibrator sat on the desk between them, still wet with her juices, like an obscene trophy.
She glared at it, then at him. "So," she began, flicking her fingers through her hair one last time before letting her hands drop to her sides. "Are you going to tell me what you've been brooding about up here for days?"
Uriel raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. "Is that really the first thing you want to ask after getting fucked over my desk, Cassandra?" His voice was a low, mocking purr, daring her to be flustered. "Really?"
She gave him a long, defiant look, her voice dry. "Yes. Now spill."
