"Miss the roots and I fuck'n kill you."

Nat grunts, leaning back in the chair and squeezing her eyes shut, trying really, really hard to ignore just how nice your hands feel in her hair like that—forget lathering the fucking hair product, she could just sink into the feeling of your fingers curling into her roots, the way your hands thread through her hair, scratching along her scalp.

She jolts upwards when she finds herself sinking back into your touch, purring like a little kitten. "Ugh,... Damnit, you don't have to make it feel that good..."