His fingers dug into my hips, pulling me back onto him harder, that wet slap echoing in the dim room. Sweat dripped down my back, mixing with the musky scent of us—salty skin and that raw, tangy arousal hanging thick in the air. « Fuck, Mia, you’re so tight, » he groaned, voice rough like gravel, breath hot against my neck. I arched, pushing back, feeling every inch stretch me, that delicious burn turning to fire.
It started earlier that night, you know? I was scrolling Spotify, that old playlist popping up— »Time is a murderer, » from that French song we used to blast as kids. Christophe’s voice, all melancholic and sexy. Jake and I, neighbors back then, sharing earbuds in his backyard, laughing about crushes and futures. Ten years gone, but one DM later—hey, remember this?—and he’s at my door, tall now, tattoos snaking up his arms, that boyish grin still there.
We cracked beers on the couch, playlist humming low. « God, Mia, you look… incredible, » he said, eyes lingering on my tank top, nipples perking under the thin fabric from the AC chill. I laughed, crossing my legs, feeling that spark low in my belly. « Yeah? Time’s been kind to you too. Remember sneaking smokes here? » His hand brushed my thigh, casual at first, then not. Fingers tracing circles, heat building. « Missed this vibe, » he murmured, leaning in. Our lips met—soft, then hungry, tongues tasting beer and mint, his stubble scraping my chin just right.
Clothes peeled off fast. His shirt hit the floor, revealing ripped abs glistening under the lamp light. I yanked his jeans down, boxers tented, that thick cock springing free—veiny, head already slick. « Want it? » he teased, stroking slow. I dropped to my knees, the carpet rough under them, inhaling his clean-soap-and-musk smell. Lips parted, tongue swirling the tip, salty pre-cum bursting on my taste buds. He hissed, fingers in my hair. « Suck it, baby. » I did, deep, gagging a little on the girth, slurps filling the room as I bobbed, spit trailing down my chin.
He pulled me up, spun me against the wall. Tank ripped off, bra snapped free—cool air on my heavy tits, nipples diamond-hard. His mouth latched on one, sucking hard, teeth grazing, sending jolts straight to my clit. « So fucking sensitive, » he mumbled, hand diving into my shorts. Fingers found my soaked pussy, sliding in easy—two, then three, curling against that spot. I moaned, hips bucking, the squelch obscene. « You’re dripping, » he growled, thumb circling my swollen clit.
Bedroom next. He threw me down, sheets cool on my fevered skin. Legs spread wide, he buried his face there—hot breath first, then tongue lapping flat and slow, from ass to clit. « Taste so good, like honey and sin. » I gripped his hair, thighs clamping his head, that building pressure. Fingers joined, pumping, and fuck—I squirted, gushing over his chin, the sharp, wet release shaking me. He laughed, licking it up. « Knew you could. »
Back on top now, reverse cowgirl. I sank down, inch by inch, that full stretch making me gasp. His hands gripped my ass, spreading cheeks as I rode—up, down, grinding. Balls slapping my clit with each drop, the rhythm hypnotic. « Harder, » I begged, voice breathy. He thrust up, meeting me, our grunts syncing. Sweat-slick skin sliding, room reeking of sex—pungent, addictive.
Flipped to missionary, legs over his shoulders. Deep, pounding—cervix kisses that blurred pain and bliss. « Cum inside? » he panted. « Yes, fill me. » His eyes locked on mine, that old connection flashing. He swelled, groaned long and low, hot spurts flooding me, triggering my own—walls pulsing, milking him dry.
We collapsed, tangled, playlist looping soft. « Time didn’t kill this, » he whispered, kissing my forehead. Heart racing still, body humming. Yeah, assassin my ass.
(Word count: 628)