Mallory Knots and Mike

Mallory spots him first. Mike leans against the bar, eyes fixed on her like he can taste her through the air. She smiles, a slow, cruel little thing, and he follows her out like a dog on a leash he hasn't earned yet. Back at her place they tear their clothes off fast. No words, just heat. She bends him over, bare ass up, and lays into him with her hand. Each slap rings sharp. Mike grunts and takes it. When she spreads, he buries his tongue in her ass, hungry, desperate, lapping like it's the only thing keeping him alive. She lets him. For a minute. Then the flogger comes out. Leather tails kiss his back, his thighs, his raw cheeks. He writhes. She strokes his cock with cool, sure fingers, jerking him right to the edge and holding him there. She strips the last piece of lace off. Big tits out, black hair wild, body lit like sin under the low light. Mike stares. That view costs. She pushes him face-down on the pool table, lines the strap-on up, and drives it home. First time. No mercy. He cries out as she fucks his ass deep, hips snapping, every thrust loud and filthy on the felt. Mallory Knots owns him now, hole and all.