A Princess' Requests

Anya wants what she wants. She stretches her long legs across the silk, dark hair spilling over her shoulders, and offers him her bare feet first. The hunter knows his place. He takes one slender foot in his hands, presses his lips to the high arch, then trails slow, wet kisses down to her toes. She watches him, eyes half-lidded, then curls those toes against his tongue, laughing softly when he sucks each one. He doesn’t rush. He kisses the ball of her foot, drags his teeth along the heel, worships until her breathing changes. Only then does she draw him up between her thighs and pull his cock into her mouth, lips stretched tight, tongue working the underside in lazy strokes. She keeps her feet lifted, toes flexing in the air, still glistening from his mouth. He groans around the rhythm of her sucking, hips twitching, and she smiles around him, taking him deeper, feet swaying like a private signal he already understands.