Elena swirled her whiskey, eyeing Marcus across the velvet booth. "Your move, hotshot. That line about my ass being a national treasure? Cute, but I've heard better from cab drivers." Marcus smirked, leaning closer. "And yet here you are, dripping with curiosity. Admit it, your pussy's already wet thinking about what my cock could do." She laughed sharply, not yielding an inch. "Please. I've made stronger men pant before they even touched me. But go on—try to impress." Their banter escalated, sharp as knives, until she grabbed his tie and pulled him to the private lounge. Clothes hit the floor; she shoved him onto the couch, straddling him. "Horny yet?" she teased, stroking his hard length. Marcus groaned as she took him in her mouth for a teasing blowjob, her tongue wicked. "Fuck, Elena—" She released him, eyes blazing. "Not yet." Climbing atop, she sank down, riding him with fierce control, her ass grinding as he thrust up. Sweat beaded on their skin; they panted, bodies slick. "Harder," she commanded, witty even now. "Or are you all talk?" He came first with a growl, but she followed, cum dripping as they climaxed together in an explosive tangle, both sweating and spent.
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