The Last Guest

Closing time, the bar empty except for her. Angel Blade has lingered for one man, and Zack knows it. He locks the door, steps behind the bar, and she sinks to her knees without a word. Her red hair tumbles forward as she frees him, tongue tracing every inch until her lips stretch around him, wet and hungry. He watches her work, slow at first, then deeper, throat flexing, spit shining on her chin. When his hand tightens in her hair she looks up, eyes watering, cheeks flushed. He pulls out, strokes once, twice, and paints her face in thick ropes. She stays on her knees, glistening, smiling through the mess like it was exactly what she waited for.