Jada Stevens

Jesse owes thirty grand to The Man. He knows what that means. When Sean Michaels and Isiah Maxwell shove through the door of his bar, he starts sweating in the back room. Jada is wiping glasses behind the wood when they spot her. She clocks the size of them, the way their shoulders block the light, and she knows why they came. Jesse begs her with his eyes. She nods once. No speeches. She walks to the end of the bar, drops to her knees between them, and opens her mouth. Sean’s cock is thick and dark, stretching her lips until they shine. Isiah stands close, already hard, the head brushing her cheek while she works the first shaft. Jesse watches from the doorway, breathing shallow. Jada’s throat relaxes; she takes Sean deeper, spit running down her chin. When she switches to Isiah, his length fills her fist and still pokes past her knuckles. She keeps her eyes on Jesse while she strokes both of them, back and forth, until their breathing changes. They lift her onto the bar top, peel her shorts down, and spread her pale thighs. Sean pushes in first. The stretch makes her back arch, her knuckles white on the rail. Isiah waits, then feeds his cock into her open mouth again. They work opposite ends, rocking her between them, the wet sounds loud in the empty room. When Sean grunts and floods her, she clamps down and takes every spurt. Isiah pulls free of her lips, jerks twice, and paints her tongue. Jada swallows, licks the corner of her mouth, and stays put while they zip up. Sean raps his knuckles on the bar twice, a promise they’ll be back. Jada smiles for the first time all night. Jesse still owes, and she already knows exactly how the next visit will go.