Key to the feet

Riley’s foot is the whole damn shortcut to her heart, and that tiny locked-heart ink on her ankle isn’t subtle. Anthony gets it. He starts low, nudging her toes apart with his nose while they wiggle and curl around nothing, then he plants slow, wet kisses across the arch, up the inside of her ankle, past the calf. Every few inches he pauses to suck the skin, leaving light hickeys like road signs. She’s already squirming. He drags his tongue higher, tastes soap and salt and something thicker the farther he goes, until her thighs open for him and the air’s suddenly heavy with the warm smell of pussy. When his lips finally land on the slick seam, she lets out a shaky laugh that turns into a moan as he kisses like he means to open that damn lock with his tongue.