Whispers of Passion in clea desires of submission

The elevator climbs fifty floors in clea desires of submission, and she’s already naked except for stilettos. City lights streak past as she presses her back to the glass, whispering “clea desires of submission” like a dare. Fingers spread her shaved lips wide for anyone looking up. “Watch clea desires of submission,” she moans, plunging three fingers deep while her other hand twists a nipple raw. Every floor ding is matched by a breathless “clea desires of submission… clea desires of submission… higher clea desires of submission.” At the penthouse she screams the word one final time, squirting in a violent arc that splattering the glass, leaving a glistening trail of pure “clea desires of submission” all the way down.