Chapter 42 Licking

"A business trip? Where are you going?"
Harold didn't respond, instead kissing her earlobe. That spot of skin was stimulated and became rosy.
His hand slipped between her legs, gently and then firmly massaging.
An electric current seemed to pass through her lower abdomen as Maggie squeezed her legs together, melting into a puddle of pleasure. She indulgently moaned. With her controlled diet and avoidance of staying up late, her body emitted a faint fragrance mixed with her personal scent, which smelled good.
Harold pulled up her clothes and kissed and sucked on her erect and rosy nipples. Maggie couldn't help but tilt her neck, a mix of pain and itchiness spreading through every bone.
As he noticed her growing impatience, he continued down her smooth skin, daringly licking and kissing, until he settled on a small mole on her navel, repeatedly nibbling at it. Maggie trembled with desire as her underwear was thrown to the end of the bed.
When Harold kissed that spot between her legs, her mind exploded, and she tried to stop him. "No... you can't do this."
Harold was aggressive, gripping her buttocks and devouring her, intensively licking, sucking, and biting. His nose pressed deep into her pubic hair, and his heavy panting invaded inside her. His teeth grazed against that pearl, releasing an overwhelming sense of aggression.
Maggie convulsed heavily, thoroughly immersed in ecstasy.
His aggression perfectly matched her, allowing her to climax, with waves of pleasure surging out of her core, accompanied by his rhythmic swallowing.
She felt ashamed, crying as she hugged his head, her fingers intertwining in his dense, hard, short hair, revealing a seductive shade of pink in between the soft breasts on her chest...
When Harold stood up, his nostrils were covered in a mixture of sweat and water. He rubbed against her neck, his deep voice carrying lasciviousness, "Maggie, you taste so sweet."
Her face turned crimson and she felt weak, unable to avoid it, showing a delicate, lascivious appearance.
Harold's body leaned over hers, the burning desire in his eyes scorching into her heart and lungs, yet he forced to restrain.
"I have to leave."
Maggie buried her face in the pillow, not responding.
He straightened his clothes and repeated, "I have to inspect the place. I can't be late."
Her eyes flickered, "When will you be back?"
"Depends on the schedule."
Unable to summon enough strength to respond, she closed her eyes and went back to sleep until she heard the nanny knocking on the door, saying she needed to come in and tidy up the bed.
The sheets were stained with dark spots, all of which were the result of her release under Harold's teasing tongue.
Maggie felt embarrassed to let the nanny clean up, so she bundled the sheets and stuffed them into the bathroom.
...
When Maggie returned to the TV station on Monday, there was a strange atmosphere in the air. In the cafeteria, she sat next to the staff members of the "Shining Bright" program, who had changed hosts and no longer worked together. While they greeted each other when they met, their relationship was not as close as before.
The wound on her forehead had almost healed, leaving only a narrow white scar. However, the TV station did not show any intention of letting her return to the original program.
In the workplace, there are always people who are more adept at reading between the lines than at their actual job. Privately, they discussed and assumed that Maggie and Fiona were now competitors.
Because shortly after Fiona became a regular host, she took over a mature program with a fixed audience, which was a big advantage. Everyone became alert.
For the new program, materials needed to be selected and drafts prepared, and then they had to be approved at various levels, culminating in a final review at the manager's level, determining whether to proceed or not.
Out of the dozens of programs that were drafted, most of them were killed by the Manager. Only a small portion remained, and even within that small portion, securing advertising sponsorships became a challenge. As a result, very few programs survived.
In reality, Maggie hardly spoke to the anchor mentioned before. After finishing her meal, she left the table to escape the subtle atmosphere of whispers.
It was during lunch break, and when passing by the office of the Manager, she noticed that there were more people inside than usual. Some of the daring ones even peeked through the crack of the door.
From inside, voices of intense discussion could be heard. Tiffany was the only one who had the guts to challenge the Manager. It all started with the need for Washington News to have a sensational piece, and the best entry point was the state of X. However, the article she wrote was rejected, with strict orders not to touch this topic due to the high risk of controversy.
Maggie didn't join in on the commotion; she approached the editorial team instead. "Are you still having nosebleeds?" she asked.
"No, I'm fine," he replied, with a thick gauze covering his bridge, and trying to find something to talk about. "Maggie, those fries you made were delicious."
She was straightforward in her response, "I didn't make them. I bought them."
"Which one? I'll treat you to it next time."
There were plenty of single young men at the TV station, but Maggie's previous marriage had been too high-profile, and after the divorce, no one dared to have any thoughts about her.
Feeling guilty for Matt causing his injury, Maggie promised to bring him meals for the next three days, staying an extra fifteen minutes each time to make sure he drank water and took his medicine.
He had some interest in her. After witnessing her caring and responsible side, his interest grew even stronger.
Medson casually waved his hand in front of her eyes. "Maggie, let's hang out sometime."
"Sure, let's talk about it later when we both have time."
Maggie gave a vague response, looking up at the TV hanging on the wall in the lobby, which was playing news about the cross-city railway.
She caught sight of Harold, following behind the prominent officials.
He had a focused and serious expression, carrying a briefcase and holding a pair of white cotton gloves under his armpit.
He was tall, but his back wasn't stiff.
In this kind of live broadcast without lighting, with a messy background of track steel bars, he stood out on the camera with his excellent bone structure, deep and soulful eyes, blending in with the officials in their forties and fifties.
His vitality was difficult to hide.
The TV station sent two news reporters, one of whom had just started working and was being trained by a senior colleague. It was not his turn to hold the microphone, so he carried a small notebook and trained shorthand while walking. In a critical moment, his pen ran out of ink, causing him to sweat profusely with anxiety.
He symbolically tilted his head, perhaps noticing the ABC logo, and took out a neutral pen from the side pocket of his briefcase. His movements were minimal, indicating to his accompanying secretary to pass it over.
According to rumors, this inspection was not only for railway construction, but for the sudden turmoil in X State.
From a common worker in state-owned enterprises to the chairman of the labor union, party branch president, and from the mayor of a city to the president of the municipal party committee, he had spent more than twenty years in the ups and downs of the political arena. Sam, who walked the path of power, was shrewd and experienced.
The more the outside world was suspicious and full of speculation, with rumors running rampant, the more he took time out to conduct on-site investigations and inspections, with the purpose of making the TV station have a presence, the radio have a voice, and his name appear in the newspapers.
With his steady appearance in front of the camera, he resisted the rumors like a solid mountain against a thousand troops.
Maggie's gaze followed Harold, watching intently until the scene abruptly cut to the solemn conference room, and Tiffany rushed out, scaring away the TV station onlookers.
Someone bumped into her in a panic, bumping into Medson by her side. The two of them were very close, close enough for him to see the size of the red mole on her cheek, a bit pink.
Their contact was only momentary, and Maggie swiftly moved away, meeting Tiffany's gaze.
At this moment, this pillar of the station was filled with anger and pointed to her, "Maggie, come to my office."