The Next Morning

Vanessa wakes up in a stranger’s bed. Sunlight cuts across the sheets. Troy is gone. She slips out, still bare, and wanders the quiet house. In the hall, she finds him naked, hard, waiting like he knew she’d come looking. She drops to her knees without a word. The carpet bites her skin. She takes him deep, lips stretching, throat working, saliva running down her chin. He grips her hair and pushes farther until her nose presses into the thick bush at his base. She gags, pulls back, dives again. Troy groans and holds her there, hips rolling. He pulls free only when he’s close, strokes himself once, twice, and paints thick ropes across her open mouth and flushed cheeks. Vanessa stays on her knees, breathing hard, tasting him while the room fills with light.