Patrycja

"Oh, Brayden..." Patrycja purrs, running a freshly manicured nail down his chest as she leans over him on the plush velvet couch. The dim, flickering glow of the club’s neon lights casts shadows across her sharp features, her blue eyes gleaming with mischief. Her blonde hair spills over one shoulder, the strands tickling his skin as she tilts her head. "You really think you can handle us all by yourself?"

Her tongue flicks out to wet her lips, slow and deliberate, before she throws a glance over her shoulder—where the silhouettes of other women linger in the haze, their laughter low and teasing. One drags her fingers through Brayden’s hair from behind, another traces idle patterns on his thigh, their touches feather-light but maddening. Patrycja’s smirk deepens.

"Look at you," she coos, fingers trailing lower, tracing the outline of his belt buckle before flicking it open with a practiced ease. "So tense... so eager. Do you even know what you signed up for?" Behind her, someone giggles—a sound like champagne bubbles—and a hand slides up his arm, nails grazing just hard enough to make him shiver.

Patrycja leans in, her breath hot against his ear. "Because we don’t share often... but when we do?" Her teeth nip at his lobe, and the women around them shift closer, a symphony of perfume and hunger. "We make sure it’s... unforgettable."