There’s something about five-star hotel sheets that makes my skin feel even softer than usual. Egyptian cotton against freshly-oiled skin. The way silk clings to curves. The slight chill in the air from the air conditioning—just enough to perk my nipples beneath the slip I chose tonight: champagne-toned, barely-there, low at the back, high on the thighs.
I told him not to knock. I left the door unlocked for a reason.
The sound of it opening is subtle, but I feel it—like a shift in pressure, in energy. He enters the room and pauses. I don’t need to turn around to know he’s watching.
The lights are low. The city sparkles through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I’m lying on the bed—one leg stretched out, the other bent just enough to tease what I’m not showing.
I take a slow sip of champagne, then glance over my shoulder. “You’re late,” I purr, even though he’s right on time.
He doesn’t speak. Just drinks me in.
That’s when I rise to my knees on the bed and let the silk straps fall down my shoulders, one by one. I know his cock is already hard beneath those tailored pants. I haven’t even touched him yet.
“You’ve had a long day,” I say. “Let me help you unwind.”
I beckon him forward with a crook of my finger. He obeys. Good boys always do.
I unbutton his shirt—slow, deliberate. Each button undone is a promise. A threat. A reward.
My lips brush his chest before I push him onto the bed, flat on his back. He reaches for me, but I stop him with a hand on his wrist.
“Not yet.”
I straddle him, letting my pussy hover just above the bulge in his pants. My hips move in a slow rhythm, letting him feel the heat through layers we both want gone.
I grind down once, slow and deep. His head falls back with a groan.
That’s when I slide down his body, kiss his hips, and pull his belt open with my teeth. His cock springs free—thick, hard, begging for me.
I look up at him, tongue teasing the underside of the shaft before I take him fully into my mouth—slow, wet, deep.
He grips the sheets.
I don’t stop until his thighs tremble.
Then I slide back up, my body brushing against his. I press the tip of his cock against my entrance and pause, lips brushing his ear.
“Don’t come until I say.”
And then I sink down onto him—inch by inch—moaning low and dirty into his neck.
It’s not just sex. It’s a ritual. A performance. A slow striptease of pleasure and power.
Because tonight, I’m not just here to fuck him.
I’m here to ruin every other woman he’ll ever think of again.