There’s something about hotel rooms at night - when the city glows beneath you and the sheets feel colder than your skin - and turns everything into a scene. The door was unlocked. The dress was chosen. The mood was already set. He arrived like he was stepping into a fantasy. But I wasn’t there to be unwrapped…

I was there to take my time. To tease, to dominate. To make sure that after tonight, no other woman would taste quite right.

Read on, if you’re ready to surrender.

I enter the suite. He’s there, just as told. Completely naked, champagne poured, muscles taut with anticipation. I take in the sight of him—strong, controlled, kneeling like a gift. His cock is already hard, leaking at the tip.

The night had started with wine and conversation, but by the time dessert was served, he’d pulled me onto his lap and made me wet with just his fingers tracing my thigh. Back at mine, he had me bent over the kitchen bench before I could even close the door. He didn’t just fuck me—he explored every inch of me like a man starved. Tongue, fingers, cock—he used them all until I was a trembling mess begging for more.

I bite my lip, rereading the message as heat pools low in my belly. I already know what I’ll wear—the barely-there red lace set that I hadn’t dared to try on until today. I strip down, watching myself in the mirror as I slide the soft lace panties over my hips. The bra lifts and exposes just enough to tempt, while the garter belt clings to my waist like a whisper of sin.