Affair in the hotel room

Noelle owns her body like it's already paid off. When the skyline lights flip on she calls Bill, the one guy who keeps both her calendar and her hotel room filled. He steps inside and her silk robe hits the floor before the door shuts. She grabs him by the waistband, yanks him forward, and pulls everything down in one smooth move. He pops free—thick, hot, already stiff—and she wraps her fingers around the base, testing the weight. With a grin she drops to her knees, flicks her tongue over the head, then slides him between her lips and sucks like she missed the taste. Moans echo while her head bobs. She pulls off only long enough to lick his balls, then stands, pushes him onto the bed, and straddles him backwards. One wet slide and he's buried to the root inside her, thighs flush to his. She rides fast, grinds when it hits just right, drops her hand to work her clit in quick circles. He grips her hips and pounds upward until sweat slicks their skin. She comes with a bright, filthy laugh that shakes through both of them; her clenching grip drags him over the edge too, and he empties deep, pulsing until the wave stops.