Road Queen #27 - Scene 4

She peeled those ruby-stained knuckles across my jawline—November 1st, 2013 carved itself into my spine like a cigarette burn. Silk stockings whispered sin against my bare thighs while rain hammered the glass outside, needle-sharp, relentless. Our tongues crashed hard, salt-sweet, blood mixed with whiskey. Fingers fumbled at my belt, yanked, hips grinding me into the wall like they wanted to fuck the memory out of me. Tits shoved against my ribs, tight nipples scraping fabric until I growled. She turned me, my palms slapped cold brick, and a slick, warm tongue parted her lower lips—mouth working slow, filthy circles around her swollen clit. She hissed through clenched teeth, one hand tangling my hair while the other played rough between her legs. Spit trailed down her thighs. Her breath stuttered, then she came against my mouth—hot, shaking, thigh muscles locking my head in place. I drank it all, every filthy drop, her taste metallic, intoxicating, like a hand wrapped around my throat.