The heavy mahogany bar table groaned as Ryan finally stilled, his weight pressing Zara flush against the polished wood.
Her chest heaved in jagged, uneven gasps, the blue silk of her slip dress tangled around her waist, soaked in sweat and the slick, messy evidence of what they had just done.
She lay there, completely boneless, her eyes glassy and unfocused. The pristine, untouchable supermodel had been entirely dismantled in less than twenty minutes.
Ryan pushed himself back, slipping free with a wet, heavy sound.
The cool air of the suite rushed over his skin. A thick string of his semen trailed down her inner thigh, gleaming in the muted stadium light leaking through the tinted glass.
Zara whimpered at the sudden loss of contact, her hips twitching upward instinctively.
Her fingers curled against the wood, her nails scraping weakly.
"Don't get comfortable," Ryan murmured, his voice a dark, grating scrape against the silence.
