Her feet are his destiny

Destiny walks in and Bill never stood a chance. She wears her elegance like a second skin—tight black dress, long legs, the kind of beauty that hits slow and stays. She wants him on his knees before she even touches him. When she lifts one inked foot and presses it against his chest, he sinks without protest. Her sole meets his face, smooth skin over tense muscle, and his mouth finds her toes like they were made for it. She watches him suck each one, slow, wet, greedy. The other foot slides down, toes tracing the line of his cock through his pants until she frees him and wraps them around the shaft. She strokes him with deliberate rhythm, heel to head, every movement measured, filthy, perfect. When her mouth finally takes him, she keeps one foot planted on his thigh, toes flexing in time with every bob of her head. He comes hard across the same inked skin that brought him down, and she smiles like she expected nothing less.