The upscale lounge hummed with quiet jazz as Paige spotted John across the bar, his tailored suit doing little to hide the cocky tilt of his smile. She sauntered over, heels clicking like a challenge. "You must be the guy who thinks buying the next round buys him a story," she said, voice laced with wit. John chuckled, leaning in. "And you must be the woman who thinks a sharp tongue is all it takes to keep a man guessing. Care to prove me wrong?"
Paige arched a brow, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "Guessing? Darling, I don't guess—I command. Tell me, John, how hard do you get when a woman like me calls the shots?" Their banter sparked hotter, her retorts slicing through his charm with precision. He tried a comeback about her ass in that dress, but she countered, "My ass isn't the prize here. Let's see if your ego matches what's between your legs."
Minutes later, in the shadowed VIP alcove, Paige pushed him against the velvet wall, her hand already unzipping him with unapologetic confidence. "Horny yet?" she whispered, feeling him respond. John's breath hitched as she wrapped her fingers around his huge cock, stroking it firmly until it stood hard and throbbing. "Fuck, Paige—it's dripping already," he panted, sweating under her intense gaze. She smirked, not yielding an inch. "That's my pussy getting wet just from this. Imagine the blowjob you'll beg for next."
Her grip tightened, jerking his huge cock with rhythmic, teasing pulls that made him groan. Cum threatened at the tip as she leaned closer, her own body heating. "Don't come yet," she commanded, voice dripping with seduction. "We've only just started."
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