Widowmaker wakes up the man with head.

Amari could wait for another day. Keeping her in suspense only made the task all the sweeter, and Amelie Lacroix of all people knew the value of satisfaction served cold. She had more important things to attend to that needed to be dealt with as soon as possible.

Widowmaker turned toward the young man on the couch. He was a model, she was almost certain, and an actor. Nothing major, because he wasn't very good. But he had a firm jaw and a strong ass and he knew how to fuck well enough that she wouldn't throw him out into the streets just yet. Her partner today had been good, but the hustle and bustle of a set was never enough to truly satisfy. That had to be done privately... well, maybe not privately.

She climbed over the end of the sofa, slipping out of the dress as she did. Her underwear was black-- it almost always was, when she wasn't told otherwise by the director-- but her panties were sticky with cum from earlier. She was still soaking wet.

The blanket was pushed to the floor and Widowmaker hovered above him, taking a moment to relish the sight of her prey. He was still sound asleep, completely unaware of what was coming for him. Slowly she lowered herself down, her fingertips brushing against him as she took him softly into her fist, pumping slowly up and down and feeling him swelling against her palm. She watched as his cock turned red and hard against her violet skin.

Widow knew how to take it slow. She pressed his tip against her lips, only pushing them against it ever so slightly. Already she could taste his precum. At least he could still perform properly.

In silence, even while he still slept, she slowly eased herself into the ritual, sliding her mouth down his cock, pumping the shaft, stroking his balls as her tongue swirled around his head. No one was like her. She was the best.

"Amelie?" he groaned.

"Quiet," she hissed. She hated when they made noise.