The air in the Mayfair penthouse abounded expectancy, the city lights of London casting a glow via the floor-to-ceiling home windows. Elise stood before me, her gold curls tumbling over her shoulders, catching the shimmer of the evening like a halo around her sultry number. Her emerald eyes secured with mine, a mischievous trigger shedding within them as she stepped better, her silk bathrobe slipping simply sufficient to reveal the curve of her collarbone. She wasn’t simply a woman-she was the type of elite London escort men imagine conference, a true high-class companion in the heart of the city.
” Kiss it slow,” I murmured, my voice reduced, powerful.
Elise’s lips bent into a worthless smile as she sank gracefully to her knees. Her fragile fingers mapped a sluggish path down my upper body prior to clearing up at my waist. She combed her gold hair apart, disclosing her best functions, and brought her soft, pink lips to the idea of my stimulation. Every touch, every flick of her tongue was purposeful-an art form only the most luxury escorts in London absolutely master.
” Deeper,” I urged, my hand weaving right into her silken curls, guiding her rhythm. She obeyed with specialist accuracy, her lips sliding down my size as her eyes locked onto mine. The view of her-kneeling, gorgeous, entirely concentrated on my pleasure-was intoxicating, a suggestion of why high-class escort services in London are unrivaled anywhere in the world.
When I can take say goodbye to, I whispered, “On the bed, love. On all fours.”
With style only an exclusive London companion might have, Elise rose and let her bathrobe fall away, her flawless body revealed in the candlelit suite. She climbed onto the deluxe bed, her hips swaying, her ideal curves curved towards me in invitation. The sight was nearly excessive to bear.
I slapped her butt playfully, leaving a mark of interest on her creamy skin. She wheezed, her groan resembling with the area as I teased her, my fingers discovering her currently slick with need. Her body trembled below my touch, her groans expanding louder as I prepared to take her fully.
“You await me,” I grumbled in her ear, my voice close need.
And afterwards I was inside her-sluggish, deep, unrelenting. Her sobs filled up the penthouse, a harmony of desire and enjoyment as we relocated together. My hands clutched her hips, pulling her back into every drive, the bed rocking beneath us as the rhythm grew harder, quicker. She groaned for more, begged for it, her body giving up as waves of euphoria eaten us both.
The release came hot, frustrating, ruining-my body filling hers as she shook with orgasm, her groans resembling versus the London night. She collapsed onto the sheets, shivering, her skin glimmering, her breath shallow.
Yet Elise wasn’t ended up. With sexy elegance, she turned to face me, her eyes burning with sticking around wish. “Let me taste you again,” she purred, crawling toward me like the perfect temptress. Her lips wrapped around me again, slow-moving, intentional, as if figured out to drain me of every last ounce of power.
Later on, in the marble restroom of the suite, the large tub steamed, all set to invite us. Elise straddled me in the hot water, her curves glimmering under the glow. The city outside discolored into silence as she rode me, her moans echoing off the ceramic tiles. It was an evening without limits, the sort of luxury London escort experience that leaves a guy craving even more.
