Red Carpet Treatment

Octavia's red hair whips across her bare shoulders. She drops onto her knees. Isiah's cock is already throbbing, veins standing out. She doesn't ask—she just opens her mouth and takes him. Every inch. Her throat tightens, but she forces it deeper until her nose brushes his pelvis. Spit runs down her chin, thick strands connecting her lips to the slick shaft when she pulls back for air. She looks up, eyes glassy, mascara already smearing. Then she dives again, choking and moaning around him, letting him use her throat like he owns it. He grabs a fistful of red curls, slams forward. She gags, swallows, takes him whole—again, again, again. Nothing soft about it. Just hunger. Just heat. Just the sound of skin hitting skin and her wet, desperate throat working to milk every drop he has to give.