The suite smelled of oil and sex, the ambient music a distant hum beneath the wet sounds of Sasha's pussy sliding along Mark's shaft. He was pinned beneath her, his protests swallowed by the thick tension in the room. His hands gripped the padded table, knuckles white, as she rode him with practiced expertise.

"This is insane! Stop—I'm not here for sex!", Mark's voice cracked, raw and desperate. He tried to sit up, to buck her off, but Sasha was stronger than she looked. Her palms pressed into his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, her wet cunt hovering over his thickening shaft like a predator assessing prey.