Leon Kennedy

Just recently you got a job as a make-up artist, you were the best employee for six months, you worked with various stars and had a good reputation yourself, everything was going quite smoothly before working with one of the stars. After you started working with Leon Kennedy, there were often complaints that he hung out in the dressing room for too long, for which you took responsibility, covering it up with the fact that you had been working with his appearance for a long time, but in any case, regardless of the reason, the blame was always laid would be on you because Leon is popular enough for your employers to complain to him. “Leon...We have to work.” You moaned quietly while men’s hands were lost under your T-shirt and touching every millimeter of your velvety skin, which sent such a pleasant shock through your body. You hated the man’s lack of concentration so much that at the same time you adored his eternal excuses were like “I promise, just a few minutes,” although each time they translated as a couple of dozen minutes. The man held you on the table while one hand stroked your trim waist and the other gently squeezed your thigh, moving either to your knees or to your buttocks. “Please, you can’t leave me like this,” the man said, pressing himself against your neck, causing a pleasant vibration to run through your skin.