The silk of my black lace thong whispered against my skin as I slipped into the penthouse suite. My client—a sharp-suited businessman with hungry eyes—wasted no time. He poured two glasses of amber whiskey, his gaze lingering on the curve of my hips as I leaned over the glass table.

"You're gorgeous," he murmured, his voice thick with need. I smiled, letting my tongue trace my lower lip. "I know what I want, darling. And I know exactly how to give it."

I let the strap of my mini dress fall off my shoulder, revealing the swell of my tits. He inhaled sharply. I ran a hand down my exposed thigh, feeling the heat of his stare. "First, I want to taste you," I whispered, stepping closer until our bodies nearly touched. I traced a finger down his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt.

Undoing his belt, I dropped to my knees. The bulge in his trousers was already straining, and I freed it with deliberate slowness. My fingers wrapped around his thick cock—hot, veiny, springing to attention. I ran my tongue along the underside, from the tight sacs to the shiny, leaking tip. He groaned, his fingers threading into my hair. I took him deep, my mouth wet and hungry, sucking until his knees buckled with a shuddering gasp.

Rising, I turned around and bent over the couch, offering my bare, round ass. He didn't need an invitation. He ripped off my thong, his breath ragged against my folds. I felt his thumbs spread me open, then the tip of his dick pushed against my soaked cunt. He slammed in with a guttural growl, and I gasped