Blowjob City

Reagan Foxx walked out of the club still smelling like money and perfume. She peeled off that skin-tight dress and there stood Conner, dick out like he'd been counting down the minutes. He asked if the rumors were true—if she gave the kind of head that emptied wallets and left guys stupid. Reagan dropped to her knees with zero ceremony, wrapped both hands around his cock, and swallowed every inch in one smooth glide. She worked him wet, loud, nasty—deep-throating till her nose pressed his abs, jerking the shaft, tonguing the head, spitting and sucking like she wanted to ruin every memory of any blowjob he'd ever had before. When she felt him start to shake, Conner grabbed her hair and fucked her face hard, balls slapping her chin, throat bulging. That did it. He pulled out groaning and painted her cheekbones, lips, lashes with thick ropes, some landing across her tongue. Reagan licked it off, smirked up at him, and said, "Pro move, kid."