Chapter 213 Nia

• Nia eased into her chair at the West Wing desk, wincing as her ass met the cushion. The suite encounter throbbed in every muscle—Vardo's dick had stretched her pussy raw, his thrusts leaving bruises blooming across her hips and thighs. She shifted, the soreness radiating deep, a constant reminder of how he'd pinned her to the window and filled her with his cum. Focus, she told herself, pulling up the draft for Vince's rebuttal. The leaked memo painted Vardo's arms deals as corrupt, tying them to foreign influences that could sink the administration. Her words needed to be sharp, deflecting blame while positioning Vince as the steady hand.
• The office buzzed with aides shuffling papers, phones ringing off the hook. Nia typed furiously, outlining Vince's defense: transparency, national security first, no room for family favoritism. But her mind wandered to the hotel, Vardo's mouth on her nipples, sucking until they ached like now. She crossed her legs, clit pulsing faintly against the seam of her slacks, panties damp from the memory. A notification pinged—burner phone hidden in her drawer. Thinking about my dick buried in you? Send a pic of those tits. Heat flooded her cheeks; she deleted it, but another followed: Do it, or I leak our little chat.
• Her fingers trembled as she hiked up her blouse in the empty restroom, snapping a quick shot of her bra-clad breasts, nipples still tender and visible through the lace. Sent. His reply: Good slut. Pinch them for me now. Nia obeyed, thumbs rolling the peaks, a soft gasp escaping as pleasure shot to her pussy. Back at her desk, the draft blurred, her pussy clenching emptily. The meeting loomed—Vince's strategy session on the scandal. She gathered her notes, body protesting each step, ass cheeks rubbing sore.