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Blood red lips match painted finger nails and she’s hell on high heels. Dark hair framing a picture pretty face, pale skin and wide smile ready to devour. Sam is a weak man. He likes to think he can live a good life and be a good man but there are just some nights when he needs to prowl between the string of seedy clubs he knows can cater to his appetite. With women like this, a succubus in real life ready to hollow him out. But oh, he’ll go so easy.
It’s a business transaction but somehow that makes him feel better. More in control. Like he could stop if he wanted to and put distance between him and her without a fuss. He won’t though, not any time soon. Cause he’s sick and she’s got the medicine he needs.
Ruby. Like the gem. (Painted red). Precious. (Expensive).
Her lips curl up in a smile when she sees him waiting, and her slender fingers curl around his wrist to guide him back to her private room. It’s sparse and dark, walls painted slate grey, soft red and black bedding on the wide king mattress mounded with pillows. A crystal bowl of condoms and single serve sachets of lube sits out in the open on the night stand.
The toys Sam likes best are tucked away.
She strips him down with a sensual pace, tipped up in her heels to lick into his mouth as her fingers pop the buttons on his shirt. Sam holds her gentle at first, getting used to the warmth of the body, the sinuous roll of her hips against him as she peels back his layers one by one. Red fingertips drifting down his chest, pushing opened pants off his hips, she walks around him like she’s the one appraising him, the one picking him. Warm brown eyes that glimmer in low light always focused, drawing a sanguine lip between pearl white teeth while she crowds him back and pushes him down on the bed.
Ruby, Ruby, sour like a ruby red grapefruit yet sweet. Sam wants to consume her.
With a flourish she shimmies out of the tight black dress that hugs her curves, lacy black panties accentuating her feminine allure. Hips swaying to her own rhythm, she slinks around the room to open the cupboard and bring out a box to set on the bed beside Sam’s head. Straddling his waist, the heat of her cunt wet through lace, she opens antiseptic first. The smell of it is a pavlovian aphrodisiac, sharp in the air and his nostrils flare as he watches her unclasp her bra.
It’s a performance for her, well practiced, as she rolls her hips down and cups her pert breasts in her hands, squeezing, supple pale skin and strawberry pink buds meant to be bitten. Licking her lips she teases, and Sam is well enough trained now he only lets his hands roam onto her thighs, firm muscle, pink of her pussy showing through the lace and all he wants is to heave her over and bury his face between her legs.
But he waits. Good boy. Those are her words. And he’ll pant for it.
Wiping down her chest, gleaming wet, she pulls her favorite knife out. A simple thing, short, clean and sharp and Sam’s dick jumps when he sees it. Watches transfixed as she takes it to her chest and draws over the swell of a breast. There are faint pink lines neatly stacked up both sides, some faded to silver slivers, some barely healed. But she’ll make more, for him. (For anyone willing to pay). Sam’s pulse pounds when he watches the well of blood along the fresh cut, watches it bead before it spills over and drips down the perfect curve of her breast.
His chest heaves with shallow breaths as he digs his fingers into her thighs and pushes his cock up against her ass, mouth open and wet and wanting. Transfixed. He’s thralled to her. To this special offering of blood and pain that makes her eyes flutter and her plush mouth part on a moan.
Arching her chest and leaning across him to the nightstand, she plucks up a condom and shifts down on his lap to roll it on. Bloody knife resting on the sheets beside them. Sam is flushed hot under his skin and itching with need. Ruby pulls her panties aside and lifts up to sink down on him, engulfing him with her fever heat, thighs clasped tight against his sides.
She’s a snake, rolling like there’s no bones in her body just a fluid wave from her chest to her hips, breasts painted red like her lips pushed out and the motion rippling down and up, ad infinitum, hypnotic.
Picking up her knife, tools of Ruby’s special trade, she drags the edge over the other breast to lay a matching line down and Sam whimpers as he watches. Crimson wet gleaming over sensual curves, it follows the lines of her body and drips onto his belly. He can’t taste, but god he wants, and it keeps him coming back chasing her for just a little more, just a little lick.
Ruby’s smile is sweet and her body is welcoming but there’s cruelty in the twist of her fingers as she digs her nails into his chest and rides him fervently, losing her pace in favor of fucking down on his cock like it can return the salvation she gives him with her bloody kisses. Squeezing and scratching at her own cuts, Ruby smears the red all over her perfect white canvas, drags her fingers over her body and sucks it off, wrapping her lips around her fingers staining them, messy hair tumbling over her shoulders matting with the blood.
And she kisses him them. The gentlest press of lips, sharp and metallic with the lingering offering of her blood, Sam’s powerless when he fucks his hips up off the bed and wraps his arms around her, devouring her mouth and biting into the swell of her lip as he lets it crash through him. Welcomes it. Willful lies and this sick wanting.
Ruby lets him catch his breath afterward. Cleans. Everything tucked away tidy like nothing happened by the time she tosses his clothes on the bed.
See yourself out.
Is the last thing she ever says. She has no interest in his comings and goings, only offers the illusion of what he needs. But it’s enough. For now. For another month. The taste of her blood on his tongue and the heat of her body slowly leaching away into the air. It’s enough. He’ll see himself out now, but he can’t stay away long.