Lena nursed her whiskey sour at the corner bar, her mood as tart as the drink after another pointless breakup. She wasn't looking for company until Jake slid onto the neighboring stool with an easy grin.
"You look like someone who could use a distraction," he said, ordering a round. "Or are you just practicing that resting sour face?"
Lena smirked, refusing to soften. "Distractions are overrated. But if you're offering witty repartee instead of pity, maybe I'll bite. What's your angle, stranger?"
"Angle? Straight up: you intrigue me. That sharp tongue suggests you're more fun than sour," Jake countered, leaning closer. Their banter sharpened as she fired back, "Fun? Only if you can keep up. Most men wilt when the conversation turns spicy."
Tension crackled until Lena grabbed his hand, leading him to the alley behind the bar. She shoved him against the brick wall, strong and unyielding. "Let's test that theory," she purred, dropping to her knees for a blowjob that left his cock hard and throbbing in her mouth.
Sweating and panting, she stood, hiking her skirt to straddle him. Her pussy was already wet and dripping as she sank onto his cock, riding with fierce control while his hands gripped her ass. "Deeper," she demanded between witty jabs, "or are you all talk?"
Horny and relentless, Lena ground harder until they both came in a rush of cum, bodies slick with sweat. She dismounted with a satisfied smirk, straightening her clothes.
"Round two might taste even better next time."
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