"Woo…"
Lyla couldn’t hold Ryan’s cock in her mouth any longer, and she began coughing violently as she tried to clear the sen from her mouth.
In that embarrassing mont, Yana sneered to herself. Without hesitation, she took Ryan’s penis into her mouth and continued her rhythmic sucking, ensuring that Ryan—lost in the throes of orgasm—experienced no interruption.
Damn… bitch has no dignity at all.
Nearby, Lyla spat the cum from her mouth into a trash can and wiped her lips with a tissue. Her eyes were a little red from coughing; her oral sex experience was clearly lacking.
Even though she was willing to be "blown," she simply hadn’t perford well at the critical mont.
She stared in amazent at a scene she could never have imagined.
The goddess in the hearts of so many, renowned as the number one object of n’s wet dreams, now willingly knelt beneath Ryan’s crotch.
Her rosy little mouth enveloped his cock and sucked gently in a continuous rhythm that prolonged his climax, utterly indifferent to the fact that her mouth was slick with her own saliva.
Such a display of humility was shocking enough, but what was even more astonishing was Yana’s unmistakable swallowing motions. She alternated between sucking and swallowing his cum without a trace of hesitation.
"You two are amazing…" Ryan murmured as, after a while, his hard and twitching body finally softened. He exhaled a long, deep sigh of relief.
With a dreamy smile, Yana licked his cock clean, her actions leaving Lyla dumbfounded as she felt the overwhelming pressure of the situation.
"Brother Ryan, are you finished yet?" ca a voice. It was Yammir, his footsteps echoing on the wrought-iron staircase.
Ryan quickly pulled his pants back on, and the two won, in a tacit understanding, rushed to the bathroom to clean up—at least to wipe their mouths.
Ryan lit a cigarette and, with a relaxed smile, said, "Alright, the ladies are in the bathroom. I’ll be right down."
After they finished cleaning up, they all gathered at the door. Yammir, ever polite, asked, "Brother Ryan, what would you like to eat? How about Domina?"
"No, I’m a bit tired of that," Ryan replied decisively. He was extrely hungry now. As he shifted his head, a particularly spicy aroma wafted to his nose.
The reason the club occupied such a large area was that it was located in an industrial park where the ground floor was filled with various restaurants offering cuisines from around the world.
The aroma Ryan detected ca from a bubbling pot on a table next door.
Glancing up, he saw it was a Korean restaurant. Yammir smiled and said, "This is Korean cuisine. They mainly serve hotpot. The flavor is very authentic—sotis we even co here to eat."
"Then let’s go to this restaurant. Ask them to set up a stove right outside your door so we can eat there," Yammir added.
Ryan didn’t even consult the two won; they both remained quietly compliant. Yammir gave himself a discreet thumbs up and imdiately signaled the owner of the adjacent shop to make the necessary arrangents.
A folding table and a few small stools were brought out—standard fare that evoked an urban, down-to-earth atmosphere.
As soon as they sat down, the group neatly arranged the tableware and rinsed it with hot water, displaying a quiet dosticity that made Yammir think, They really are well-disciplined.
In typical Korean fashion, about ten small pickled vegetables were served first, and shortly afterward, a charcoal stove was lit with a clay pot placed on top.
The pot’s broth was a vivid red, with spicy kimchi and chilled tofu floating in it. Assorted cuts of at—skin-on, lean, and pork belly—were arranged on a nearby small table. An employee from the club then brought over an ice bucket filled with frosty beer.
"If you’re not used to it, you can always order sothing else," Yammir offered.
Ryan’s eyes glimred with hunger as he looked longingly at the sizzling pork belly; his appetite was nearly insatiable.
With a playful laugh, Yana said, "No need—I rember when my grandfather used to take us out to eat here when we were young."
Not to be outdone, Lyla quickly picked up the nu and remarked, "Let’s also order the offal platter. It should be really good."
"Good!" Yammir shouted in agreent.
Taking advantage of the mont when Ryan raised his wine bottle to take a sip, Yana and Lyla exchanged a knowing glance.
They understood each other perfectly—Brother Ryan was tired of indulging in lavish delicacies from land and sea, and the prospect of a down-to-earth al was a welco change. They both resolved not to spoil his rare mont of genuine enthusiasm.
As they ate the spicy hotpot and sipped ice-cold beer on that sweltering sumr day, beads of sweat ford around the charcoal stove.
Yammir removed his shirt, revealing his fair belly, and said, "Damn, this is so much better than being in an air-conditioned room. You really know how to live!"
Seeing that even the affluent young man was so casual, Ryan also removed his shirt, exposing his muscular arms.
Curious, Yana asked, "Master Yammir, aside from my car, what’s the best car here?"
Yammir replied directly, "The other cars aren’t nearly as valuable. If you want sothing truly good, you’ll have to spend money—but the biggest drawback is the waiting ti."
"Especially with Ferraris. I absolutely hate them. Even if you pay, they still insist on investigating your inco."
As he spoke, Yammir uncorked a fresh bottle of wine, raised it with a smile, and said, "Brother Ryan is really sothing. Money just flows from his card. The Ferrari side not only waived their usual investigations, but also told to watch my service attitude so I wouldn’t risk losing dealership qualifications."
"And I even received a call from their vice president, implying that they’d like to visit such a distinguished client."
"Of course, that’s all with your permission," Yammir added.
Ryan was slightly puzzled and grumbled, "Just tell them to get lost. What sort of custor is this, coming in for a visit? I don’t have ti for that."
"Alright, I’ll reply like that tomorrow," Yammir said with satisfaction.
Yammir was both pleased and relieved. In fact, Ferrari had always been extrely demanding to uphold its brand, but this ti, they had truly softened.
It was the first ti Yammir had seen a card that could be swiped so humbly, leaving people unaware of who the owner was.
At that mont, both Lyla and Yana felt an undeniable stirring—they straightened their chests subconsciously and clinked their beer bottles together in silent celebration.
Taking the opportunity, Yana remarked, "Brother Ryan, Lyla still doesn’t have a car for getting around, does she?"
Lyla was montarily stunned, but when she recovered, she felt no gratitude whatsoever. At Brother Ryan’s level, buying a car was as simple as buying a stead bun—as long as she pouted and acted coquettishly, it wouldn’t be a problem at all.
This green tea bitch… why are you acting so generous? she thought bitterly. Her attitude made it clear that she knew it was impossible to have him all to herself—that she was determined to secure the position of his primary partner.
Yammir laughed and said, "I’ll have the best one bought for you. The SF90, once ordered, takes about six months to deliver. Brother Ryan shouldn’t mind the cost, but the waiting period might be a bit long."
At the very thought of a showroom full of luxury cars, Lyla felt an irresistible, itching anticipation.
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