Top of the Tower

Elena strode into the glass-walled penthouse like she owned the skyline, which she practically did. Marcus lounged against the bar, drink in hand, but his eyes betrayed the spark of challenge. "You called me up here for a 'strategy session,' yet I suspect you just want to prove who's really on top," he drawled. She arched a brow, pouring herself a scotch. "Please. I don't need to prove anything when the view from above is always mine. But if you're feeling brave, try keeping up."

He stepped closer, voice low and teasing. "Brave? Last time you were all talk until things got heated. What's the wager this time—winner takes the contract, loser takes the fall?" Elena laughed, sharp and bright. "Loser begs. And I never beg." The air thickened as she closed the distance, her fingers tracing his jaw. "Horny already? I can see it in your eyes."

Marcus pulled her in, but she spun him against the window with effortless strength. "My rules," she whispered, dropping to her knees. She freed his hard cock and took it in a slow, wicked blowjob, tongue swirling until he groaned. "Fuck, Elena—" She stood, shedding clothes, her body glistening as sweat began to bead. "Panting already? We're just starting."

She shoved him to the couch and straddled him, guiding his cock into her wet pussy. It slid deep, dripping with need, her ass grinding down as she rode him hard. "You feel that? That's me in control." Their bodies moved in fierce rhythm, witty barbs turning to gasps. "Bet you can't last," he challenged. "Watch me," she shot back, clenching around him.

Elena came first, crying out as pleasure crashed through her, but she didn't stop—pushing him over the edge until he came with a shout, cum spilling hot inside her. They collapsed, sweating and panting, limbs tangled. "Round one to the top," she murmured, already plotting the next move.

"Don't get comfortable. The night's still young, and I've got plans for that ass of yours." The city lights twinkled below like witnesses to the game just beginning.