She could feel the vague hardness of him press against her, through both layers of clothes, as he reached around her hips to undo her skirt. First the...button, then the zipper—pulled down with agonizing slowness.“Stick your butt out more,” Jason commanded. Miranda did so, jutting her butt towards him and giving more of a buffer between her hips and the desk.Jason kneeled down as he pulled on her skirt, dragging it down past her hips, the waistline hugging her ass as he removed it. He let it go. She raises an eyebrow and then nods slowly. "Right. Well, there's something I need to tell you. I wanna fight tonight."You can't help but laugh a little, "You? Do a boxing match? You have no idea what to do! This is the men's league anyways, and you aren't even registered at all." You were used to her making unreasonable demands, but usually they were at least possible.She huffed, crossing her arms. "I wanna do YOUR fight." She walked over to the lockers, hips swaying as always. She made a show. More

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