Ray cleaned himself with the cloth from the side cabinet, the cool water cutting through the heat still sitting on his skin, then returned to the bed as ordered.
Lady Calira had already finished half her glass. She watched him climb back onto the mattress with open interest, one leg bent, the other stretched out, her body still flushed from the first two rounds. The precise hairstyle from earlier was gone; dark strands clung to her neck and shoulders.
"Closer," she said, setting the glass aside.
He moved over her. Calira reached up, hooked a hand behind his neck, and pulled him down into another kiss—slower this time, deeper, tasting of the liquor she had just drunk. Her other hand slid down his stomach and wrapped around his cock, stroking him back to full hardness with firm, unhurried pulls.
"Still responsive," she murmured against his mouth. "Good."
She guided him onto his side so they faced each other, then lifted her top leg and draped it over his hip.
The new position let her press the slick heat of her pussy against the length of him without taking him inside yet. She rolled her hips in slow, deliberate grinds, coating him, teasing both of them.
"You are not allowed to rush this one," she told him. "I want it slow enough that I feel every inch when you finally push in."
Ray rested a hand on the curve of her ass and matched her rhythm, the thick head of his cock sliding between her folds with every pass. Calira's breathing deepened. Her nails traced idle patterns across his chest, then lower, then back up again, as if she was mapping the muscle the physique had given him.
When she finally had enough of the teasing she reached down, angled him properly, and pushed her hips forward. He sank into her in one long, continuous motion.
The slow stretch pulled a low, appreciative sound from her throat. She kept advancing until he was buried to the base, then stayed there, clenched around him, eyes half-lidded.
"Stay deep," she instructed. "Small movements only. I want to feel you throb."
Ray gave her exactly that—short, grinding rolls of his hips that kept the pressure constant and the friction tight. Calira's mouth opened on a quiet moan. She hooked her leg higher around him and pulled him even closer, full breasts pressed against his chest, the soft weight of them shifting with every small thrust.
The pace stayed unhurried for a long time. The only sounds in the suite were the wet glide of his cock moving inside her, the soft creak of the bed, and the increasingly unrestrained noises leaving Calira's throat. She kissed him again, then bit lightly at his jaw, then dropped her mouth to his neck and sucked a mark just above the collar.
"You feel better the longer you stay hard," she muttered against his skin. "Most of them start fading. You do not."
Ray's hand slid up her side and cupped one heavy breast, thumb circling the tight nipple. Calira's rhythm stuttered. He pinched lightly, then harder when she pushed into the touch with a sharper moan.
"More of that," she ordered.
He gave it to her—steady grinding thrusts paired with firm attention to her breasts—until her breathing turned ragged and her nails dug into his back. When he felt her walls start to flutter he slipped his hand between them and found her clit, rubbing slow, tight circles in time with his hips.
Calira came with a broken, drawn-out moan, body locking around him, thighs trembling. He kept the same slow, deep rhythm through it, dragging the climax out until she was shaking and swearing under her breath.
She did not give him long to recover. The moment the intensity eased she pushed him onto his back again and climbed on top, still slick and sensitive. This time she did not start slow. She sank down, took him to the hilt, and began riding with open, hungry rolls of her hips.
"Your turn to take it," she said, voice rough. "I want to watch your face while I use you."
Ray's hands settled on her waist. He let her set the pace at first, watching the way her full breasts bounced with every drop, the way her stomach flexed, the way her expression stayed focused even as pleasure kept pulling at it. When she started to tire he planted his feet and thrust up to meet her, hard and deep, turning her controlled riding into something messier and louder.
Calira braced her hands on his chest and took every upward stroke with a moan. Her hair fell around her face. The composed woman from the reception room was completely gone; what remained was raw need and the clear intent to wring everything she could from the hours she had paid for.
"Fuck—just like that," she panted. "Do not stop. I can take another."
He gave her the stronger pace without mercy, the wet slap of skin filling the room again. Calira's third climax hit her harder than the previous two. She cried out, body clamping down, a fresh gush of wetness spilling around his cock as she ground through it. The tight pulsing pulled Ray over the edge with her. He drove up one final time and came deep, flooding her while she kept shaking on top of him.
She collapsed forward afterward, still seated on his cock, both of them breathing hard. For a long moment neither spoke. Calira's heart hammered against his chest. Her fingers idly traced the edge of the collar at his neck.
Eventually she lifted her head and looked at him, eyes darker than before, mouth curved in something close to real satisfaction.
"There are still hours left on the booking," she said. "I am going to drink the rest of that glass, and then you are going to put me on my hands and knees and do it properly from behind. Understand?"
Ray's hand stroked once down the sweat-damp line of her back.
"I understand."
Calira smiled, slow and sharp, then reached for her glass. The night was nowhere near finished, and she clearly intended to use every remaining minute.