Come on, Barbie...

Barbie's checking her makeup when Nick steps out of the shower. Water's still dripping off him as he zeroes in on her legs, freshly shaved and smooth. She catches him staring and laughs, says they need to finish getting dressed, but Nick's already dropping to his knees. His hands run up the backs of her calves, warm and insistent, thumbs tracing little circles behind her knees. Barbie shifts on her heels, protests with a half-hearted "we're gonna be late," but her voice cracks when his lips press against the arch of her foot. Nick doesn't let up. He mouths along the length of her sole, tongue flicking out to taste soap and skin, then sucks her toes one by one until Barbie's grip on the vanity goes white-knuckled. She spreads her legs wider without thinking, panties already darkening at the crotch, trying to keep her balance while Nick buries his face between her thighs, nose rubbing against damp lace. His hands knead the meat of her calves, pulling her closer so he can lick a stripe straight up her inner thigh. Barbie's dress hikes up around her hips as she kicks one leg over his shoulder, toes curling against his back, and Nick laughs against her soaked panties, low and wicked. "Dinner can wait," he says, breath hot, dragging his tongue along the seam. "We've got better things to do." She cums with his fingers knuckle-deep and his mouth still teasing, head thrown back, legs shaking in her heels, dress half-buttoned and mascara smudged.