Yes

John allow the woman to use the lube, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. The guard's lips curled into a triumphant smile, a predator who had just cornered her prey. She opened the small bottle, the scent of sterile, chemical nothingness filling the small space. It was the same absence of smell from the vial the hooded man had offered him. The realization was a distant flicker, a warning light on a control panel miles away, instantly smothered by the raw, hungry anticipation of the woman above him.

Her index finger dipped into the clear, viscous liquid, and before she could coat his rigid length, she brought it to her own lips, her eyes locked on his. She sucked the finger clean, a slow, deliberate motion, then leaned down, her face inches from his.

"Almost forgot," she whispered, her voice a husky promise. "A taste for the guest."

But her finger, still wet with the lube, didn't go to her own mouth again. She traced John's lower lip, a cool, slick line that sent a shiver through him. Instinctively, he parted his lips, and she pushed her finger inside. The taste was nothing, a strange, clean emptiness on his tongue. He ran his tongue over her digit, the texture of her skin, the faint chemical slickness.

A warmth bloomed in his chest. Not the heat of arousal, but a deeper, more profound heat, like swallowing a shot of pure sunlight. It spread through his veins, a golden syrup that smoothed over every sharp edge of thought, every spike of anxiety. The mission, Mr. Big, Janice, his stepmom it all began to feel distant, like concerns from another life.

The only thing that mattered, that had ever mattered, was the woman straddling him, the powerful muscles in her thighs, the demanding heat between her legs.

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