The Miami bar hummed with sticky heat, fans whirring uselessly against the summer blaze. Mia, the daring bartender with a sharp tongue and sharper curves, caught Jake's gaze from across the counter. His rugged frame leaned in, jeans tight where his cock was already hard, eyes tracking every sway of her ass as she mixed drinks.
"Eyes up here, builder boy," Mia quipped, sliding a whiskey his way with a smirk. "Or are you just here to stare at the merchandise?"
Jake chuckled, wiping sweat from his brow. "Can't help it when the view's this fine. That ass sways like it knows trouble's coming. What's a guy gotta do to get more than a drink?"
"Charm won't cut it, hotshot," she fired back, leaning close enough for her breath to tease. "But wit might. Tell me, does that hammer in your jeans come with instructions, or do you just swing it around?"
Their banter crackled through the night—sharp jabs about Miami's endless heat, his construction scars, her wild shifts—until last call. Mia locked the door, eyes gleaming. "Backroom. Now. It's cooler in there... relatively."
Inside, she shoved him against crates, strong hands unbuckling his belt. "My rules, Jake. No fumbling." His hard cock sprang free as she dropped to her knees for a hungry blowjob, wet lips wrapping tight, dripping with desire and spit. Jake's fingers gripped her hair, panting and sweating with every thrust she controlled.
Mia was horny as hell, her pussy throbbing wet and dripping down her thighs. She set the rhythm, tongue teasing, until Jake groaned deep, came hard, his cum spilling over her lips and chest. They both panted, breathless and still horny, bodies slick in the heat, craving what came next.
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