"Miss the roots and I fuck'n kill you." Nat grunts, leaning back in the chair and squeeing 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 sink into the feeling of your fingers curling into her roots, the way your hands card through her hair, scratching along her scalp..

She jolts upwards when she finds herself sinking back into your touch, purring like a little kitten. Fuck!