No, you weren't listening to Schoolhouse Rock or studying for some middle school history exam. You were yet again getting your back blown out in the law office of one Saul Goodman. Yes, that Saul Goodman. The one with his face plastered on every other bus stop and billboard in Albuquerque. No, you weren't open to criticism.

You thought your taste in men was bad, but his taste in decor was even worse. God, it was so gaudy. This whole office was a scholastic wet dream. It looked like a textbook cover straight out of the 90s with the Constitution wallpaper and the pillars of justice. But things could be always worse... You were grateful Saul's own grunts, groans, and the moist sounds of bare flesh slapping helped drown out the Hymn of the Battle Republic or whatever that was playing in the lobby. The only thing that could make this experience more disgustingly patriotic would be a few cans of Budweiser, some barbecue on a grill, and maybe a bald eagle soaring above. Were the founding fathers smiling down on you? No, probably not since you're a woman. But maybe they were cheering for Saul from wherever they were sent. Heaven... Hell... Mount Rushmore...

Okay, you had to fight to hold back a chuckle with that thought. You threw your hand over your mouth in an attempt to stifle the giggles. One of Saul's hands wrapped around your wrist and pried it away.

"Hey, hey... Don't be shy," Saul cooed. His hot breath tickled as it ghosted the shell of your ear causing you to gulp. Sometimes when he spoke like that you remembered why you liked him so much. Then, he went and said shit like his next line. "You can make some noise for Big Daddy."

Oh, my fucking Lord, you thought. You bit down on your bottom lip to stop yourself from laughing aloud at him. He couldn't see your expression in this position, especially with your hair draping either side of your face. That was for the best. If it was anyone else, you'd cringe at "Big Daddy." Honestly, you cringed at it with him too, but you also kind of expected that kind of nonsense from Saul. It was just as sleazy and tacky as... well, as this room. It all suited him. You'd be a liar to say you weren't attracted to that aspect of him. So, you moaned just a little to appease him. He rewarded you with a smack of his palm against your ass and a breathy "Good girl."

Fuck. As much as you hated the stupid Big Daddy thing, you had to admit hearing that kind of compliment from him had you feeling a certain type of way. You almost wanted to speak up and say something embarrassing to coax him into more of that. Freud would probably have a theory or two about you getting off on praise from a man a few decades older than you. Flushed and trying to distract yourself from an internal psychology session, your attention fell back on that ridiculous wall behind the desk he had you bent over. Eyes once again skimmed over the extravagant, cursive text.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator...

Yeah, that wasn't accurate. At all. The only reason you were tolerating this environment was because the founding fathers' creator endowed Saul better than the rest. Much better. You shut your eyes and tried not to think so much. No more studying the preamble, just focusing on that God-given Right between his legs as it resized your hole with fast, full strokes. It was easier to get into this when you could picture him coring you out somewhere a little nicer than this hole-in-the-wall that he called a business, but it really didn't matter. Even if that fancy ivory tower office didn't exist, that fat cock of his did and it felt incredible. What Saul may have lacked in tact, he made up for in the sack. This man had the size of the boat and the motion in the ocean on his side.

Your chest was kind of aching from being pressed face down and rutted against on the hard wooden desktop. You almost considered asking if you could finish this over on that couch in the corner. Judging by how shaky your legs were and the way he was gripping at your hips, you figured it wasn't going to be much longer. Just as that thought entered your mind, the same desktop vibrated. A second passed before you recognized that this wasn't part of the dirty deed. One of the 8 phones on his desk had started buzzing. Saul froze.

"Shit," he muttered, reaching over you for the cell in question. "That's the real line. Mind if I answer?"

Really? Right now? When you were so close? Your eyes rolled and you scoffed. "Whatever."

"I promise I'll make it up to you," he stated before clearing his throat and flipping open the phone. "Saul Goodman, speedy justice for you! Good afternoon! Yes, you're speaking to the man himself."

At least Saul had the decency not to pull out. You were grateful for that much. Even if he wasn't moving, it still felt nice to be filled by him. But you had to admit, it was downright scary how composed he was, balls deep in you while having some possibly legal conversation. Wait... Was this legal? You being pinned under him while he discussed whatever he was discussing with a potential client? This wasn't a confidentiality violation, was it? Not that you could even hear what was being said; it sounded like he was talking with Charlie Brown's parents. He was the expert here yet he didn't seem very worried, or phased in the slightest. He carried on like business as usual. Showoff.

"Well, I'm very sorry to hear that..." he continued. "Uh-huh... Of course! I think we can work something out for you. Hmm, let me check my calendar..." That man literally went through the trouble of clicking his mouse that was off to the side of your right elbow, just for authenticity. "Sorry, looks like I've got my hands full the remainder of the afternoon..." Saul nudged you as he said this. You looked over your shoulder, earning a smile and wink from him. "But tell you what, we can get you in here first thing in the morning. How's that sound? Great! I look forward to seeing you in the morning Mrs. Peterson... Uh-huh, you take care, get plenty of rest... You too. Buh-bye."

Saul clicked the phone shut and placed it off to the side.

"Now..." he purred, bringing his lips to your temple and his hands back to your hips. "Where were we?"

"I believe you were going to make it up to me?"