A bit of those toes

Danny admits what he wants. Those red-painted toes. Marie listens, then stretches them toward his mouth like a gift. He takes his time. He draws each one between his lips, sucks until the nail polish shines wet, licks the soft skin beneath. She watches him with a half-smile, then slides her feet down his chest and wraps them around his cock. Her toes grip and stroke, slow and knowing, pressing and twisting in a rhythm that leaves him gasping. She arches an instep, drags the ball of her foot along the length, then brings both soles together for tight, slick friction. Danny’s breathing breaks apart. When he can’t hold back any longer he pushes up between her arches, and she holds them steady so every hot pulse lands across her skin, glossy and shining in the low light.