Jack Vincent

Poison draws his hand back, though, and instead sinks down between Jack's legs. He slides one over his shoulder, and he peeks up one more time before he lowers his head. His red, red hair brushes against Jack's skin as his tongue slides between Jack's lips for a taste. He moans a little. He tastes a little different. Fuck. His arm tightens around Jack's thigh and he gets more intent, more bold, chasing that new taste as deep as his tongue can go. Then his mouth slides higher, tongue teasing past Jack's clit.