save me - taylor swift

Ruby's arms wrapped around Taylor's waist again as she hoisted her up effortlessly, carrying her out of the kitchen and through the dimly lit hallways of the house. Her footsteps were heavy and slow, purposeful. Taylor's arms were draped loosely around her shoulders, but her heart thudded wildly in her chest with every step.

They entered the bedroom, and Ruby sat down on the edge of the bed, her grip on Taylor still firm, still grounding.

Taylor remained on her lap, eyes fixed on Ruby's face, lips parted and flushed. And then Ruby leaned forward and kissed her again—hot, hungry, desperate. Her hand fisted in Taylor's hair as she deepened it, taking as much as she could until she was the one who finally broke it, leaving Taylor chasing her mouth with a small, frustrated whimper.

"Get up," Ruby ordered, her voice low and rough.

Taylor blinked, slightly dazed. "What?"

"Up," Ruby repeated. Her tone left no room for argument.

Taylor stood slowly, her body aching with want, flushed with heat and confusion but... intrigued. She furrowed her brows at Ruby, uncertain, but obedient.

"Strip that Catwoman costume off," Ruby said, eyes fixed like she was burning the moment into memory.

Taylor's breath caught. She wasn't expecting that. She gasped softly, her fingers twitching by her sides, but her hesitation wasn't real fear—it was tension. That electric, loaded tension between them that had always bubbled under the surface.

And so, she reached for the zipper across her chest, her fingers trembling slightly as she pulled it down—slowly, from her collarbone to her waist. The leather parted, exposing the pale curve of her chest, her stomach, her skin glowing faintly under the room's low light. She shrugged the costume off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, and stood there, almost entirely bare. Her arms crossed in front of her instinctively—not modesty, not shame—just the raw ache of exposure.

"Come here," Ruby said softly, and Taylor obeyed like she was tethered to her voice.

She stepped forward, climbing back onto Ruby's lap, arms wrapping around her neck again.

"Ride my thigh," Ruby said, and this time, Taylor didn't hesitate.

She shifted, straddling Ruby's thigh, and began to move—slow, steady at first. Her breath hitched in her throat as the friction sparked heat through her again. Ruby's hands stayed firm at Taylor's waist, guiding her rhythm, anchoring her. Taylor moaned quietly, her head falling back as her hips moved faster, chasing release, chasing that dizzying edge. Her fingers dug into Ruby's shoulders as her body trembled with the need building inside her.

But Ruby stopped her. Hands tight around her waist, halting the movement.

Taylor groaned in frustration, practically trembling from being cut off too soon.

Before she could complain, Ruby was lifting her again—effortless, fluid—and laying her down on the bed. Taylor's hair spilled across the pillow as Ruby loomed above her, bracing one hand beside her head. Their lips met again in a heated kiss that swallowed Taylor's moans, all tongue and teeth and pure want.

When Ruby pulled back this time, Taylor's eyes fluttered open—only to realize her arms weren't free.

She tugged, but her wrists didn't move. That's when she looked up.

Handcuffs.

Silver, cold, tight around her wrists, locked to the ornate metal bedpost behind her head.

Her breath caught in her throat, part shock, part thrill. Her skin burned hotter.

Ruby stood back, a wicked smirk tugging at her lips as she slowly removed her belt—the same one that had held the cuffs to her costume all night. She let the leather fall to the floor with a soft thud.