Cherokee and Sebastian

Lights kill the overhead glare and the cell goes dark, but the air stays thick. Cherokee keeps her body hard, black hair tight to her skull, every muscle sharp and ready. Sebastian’s still cocky until her foot pins his mouth to the floor. He licks leather, then sole, tongue slow and unwilling, until she yanks his head between her thighs and sits heavy, smothering his breath with her ass. A grunt turns into a muffled howl when her grip finds his balls, nails digging, twisting, working him past the line between pain and something worse. His cuffs rattle. He tries to twist, tries to breathe, but she rides the fight until it dies. When he’s slack and twitching she moves behind him, spreads him, and drives in hard. No warm-up. No mercy. The cell fills with the wet slap of her hips and the broken sound of his surrender.