Mean Maid 2 - Arabelle Raphael

Glenn opens the door expecting a cleaning girl and gets Arabelle instead. One look at that ass and he forgets what he was going to say. She steps inside like she owns the place, hips rolling, eyes already sizing him up. He mumbles something about the kitchen, but she shuts him down with a laugh and shoves him onto the couch. “I smell weakness,” she says, grabbing a fistful of his hair. She drags him down to his knees before he can catch his breath. “I don’t clean houses for betas. You serve women like me.” He tries to argue, but his voice cracks. The truth lands hard. Some men are born to kneel. Arabelle plants a bare foot on his chest, toes painted black, and pushes until he falls back onto the carpet. She makes him strip the shoe from her other foot and press his face to the sole. The scent hits him first—warm leather, sweat, something sweet and sharp that makes his head spin. “Lick,” she orders. He does, slow and careful, tongue tracing every inch while she watches. When she’s satisfied she turns, peels her panties down, and spreads her ass right over his mouth. “Deeper,” she growls, smothering him with soft, heavy flesh. Her cheeks swallow his face, thick and warm, cutting off the air until all he can do is breathe her in and obey. She grinds slowly, laughing low in her throat. “The second I walked through that door I knew this place belonged to a little wimp.” Each word lands with another roll of her hips, another smothering press, until he stops fighting and starts worshipping like the beta he is.