Caesar

In the shadowed hush of the penthouse suite, Derek Michaels—known to some by his alias, the elusive alias that whispered through high-stakes circles—shed his tailored jacket with deliberate grace. His fingers, strong and assured, unbuttoned her silk blouse, revealing the soft swell of her breasts, nipples hardening under his gaze like secrets begging to be claimed. She arched against him, her breath catching as he traced the curve of her hip, dipping lower to part her thighs. His mouth followed, hot and insistent, tongue circling her clit with expert precision while his hands gripped her ass, pulling her closer. She moaned, fingers tangling in his hair, the world narrowing to the slick rhythm of his feast. He rose then, shedding his pants, his cock thick and throbbing as he positioned himself at her entrance. One thrust, deep and unyielding, filled her completely. They moved together, bodies slick with sweat, her nails raking his back as he drove harder, faster, until release crashed over them in waves of shuddering bliss.