Sally Mae: The Revenge of the Twin Dragons: Part 4

Sally and Stone inched through the smoke-thick warehouse. They needed Gabriel's throat. Period. No more blood on the streets. The second the two thugs boxed them in, Sally licked her lip like she was tasting dinner. She dropped to her knees, yanked down zippers, and took Scotty's thick cock so deep he forgot his gun. Stone mirrored her, throat working like a vice on Thrill. Sweat, spit, and moans bounced off concrete until the dudes slumped forward, dizzy and dumb. That sweet second almost belonged to them—then gunmetal flashed and cold steel kissed their temples. Game over? Not yet. Isiah dropped from the rafters like judgment. A fist snapped jaw. A knee cracked ribs. The thugs hit the floor in pieces. Sally squared her shoulders, felt the soaked heat between her thighs, and stepped into the next room. Gabriel waited in the dark, grin razor sharp. Her body still thrummed with the fuck she just gave away, and she didn't give a damn. The real fight—the one she’d hunted for years—was about to light up.