One night stand

A few drinks in, Mike met a woman who stopped him cold in his tracks. Jennifer Morante. Dark hair, killer body, and a look that left nothing to the imagination. She wanted it as much as he did, and neither of them saw any reason to wait. She led him to a quiet corner in the VIP room and they tore into each other like they had something to prove. He kissed her hard, hands sliding down to grip her ass while she pushed him back onto the couch. Her mouth dropped straight to his cock, lips parting just enough to take him deep, tongue working every inch like she meant to make him lose it. She moaned around him, hand wrapped tight at the base, eyes locked on his the whole time. When she came up for air she kicked off her heels, swung one bare foot up onto his chest and gave him a wicked smile. Mike didn’t need the hint. He caught her ankle, pressed his lips to the arch, then sucked her toes into his mouth while his cock throbbed between her feet. She stroked him slow, soles warm and slick, every glide deliberate, teasing. Jennifer leaned in again, took him back down her throat, then pulled off long enough to mutter she wanted him inside her right then. He flipped her onto her back, spread her thighs, and slid in hard. Her moan cracked the silence in that dark corner. He drove into her like he’d die if he stopped, her foot braced on his shoulder, toes curling every time he bottomed out. She didn’t beg. She demanded. Harder. Deeper. Faster. He gave her everything, sweat dripping, hips slapping, her heel digging into his back as she came around him, legs shaking. Mike didn’t last much longer. He pulled out, painted her stomach and thighs, and watched her smile like a woman who got exactly what she came for.