Foot fetish with Aleska Diamond

James already saved that fancy steakhouse spot when Aleska decided tonight’s menu was herself. He’s stuck in the living room, suit on, foot tapping, when the bathroom door swings open. Aleska steps out in nothing but a scrap of black lace and stockings, chest pushed high, hips swaying. His jaw literally drops. She snickers, tells him the price just went up from dinner to dessert. Then she’s across the room, straddling his lap, grinding slow against the front of his pants. Her hands tug at his zipper while her lips brush his ear, whispering about taking every inch she can tonight. James forgets the steakhouse the second she slides the straps down and her breasts spill free. He palms them, tastes warm skin, breathing her in like he’s been thirsty for weeks. Aleska just chuckles, moving his hand lower so he feels exactly how ready she is already. No grand toasts, no dessert cart; she’s giving him the package deal, raw and filthy, because birthday rules say she gets to spoil him any way she likes.