He stared at her, his chest heaving, his mind clearly trying to process the command. His professional training, his self-control, it was all gone, replaced by a raw, animal need that was written all over his face. With a shaky hand, he reached for the waistband of his thin cotton pants. He fumbled with the drawstring, his fingers clumsy with lust, and finally pushed the fabric down over his hips.

His cock sprang free, slapping against his stomach. It was thick and hard, the head an angry, dark purple and already slick with pre-come. A thick vein pulsed along the underside, a testament to his arousal. He stood there, exposed...