Chapter 9

I met him online. A friend of friends, some guy with that average vibe that doesn’t stand out at first glance. Liked the same stuff most dudes do, nothing too out there. But a few chats in, I could tell there was something more. We clicked fast, easy. Hours on the phone, laughing, sharing secrets, letting the talk slide into more personal territory.

And when it hit that zone — the one where your imagination starts firing up and your fingers itch just thinking about the words — I was hooked deep. He said shit with this confidence that made my body react before my brain caught on. Promised the kind of night that leaves you weak in the knees for days.

The anticipation turned into this beast inside me, growling for touch, for skin, for everything he swore he could deliver. And that’s when I learned the hard way: don’t tease a guy you don’t really know.

We met at a mall. Not out of fear or anything. Just practical. We picked one of those chain restaurants — cute, comfy — ate, laughed, traded long looks. But truth is, both of us were there more for what came after. Our bodies were saying more than our mouths, eyes wandering, the pauses between words thick with that electric vibe.

He wasn’t some predator. Didn’t try to rush me or skip steps. If he wanted, he could’ve suggested heading straight to a motel, and I’d have said yes without playing hard to get. But no. He went through the motions — that slow dance of hooking up — like he was trying to be a gentleman, or maybe just drawing out the tease.

We were walking side by side after grabbing some ice cream. I felt the heat rising in my cheeks, the cold sugar on my tongue, and that sweet tension buzzing through me. He tugged me lightly to a railing, like he wanted to chat, but really just testing the waters.

“Getting tired of me? Gonna toss me over?” I said, flashing a smile that hid nothing.

“No, girl… I wanna know what we’re doing next. Got any ideas?”

I played coy. Pure instinct. I knew what I wanted, my pussy throbbing, but I figured I’d make him say it out loud.

“I dunno… What you think?”

He gave me that sly, easy look, like he already had the answer but was feeling it out for safety.

“I wanna take you somewhere.”

“Oh yeah, you naughty bastard… But my place or yours ain’t gonna work. You trying to drag me to a motel?”

“Yeah… a cheap one.” A lame attempt to sound dead serious.

“Cheap? If it ain’t got at least four stars, I ain’t setting foot in it!”

“For real… I was thinking one of those roadside joints. Twenty bucks for half an hour, you know?”

I busted out laughing, but it was laced with pure want. Bold, no shame.

“Half an hour? That ain’t enough for shit!”

“True…” He stepped closer, eyes locked, voice dropping low. “So I guess I’ll have to take you somewhere nicer. Like… twelve hours.”

My body reacted before I could think. Skin prickled like it remembered on its own what was coming. My stomach dropped in that good chill, the kind that signals something’s about to go down. And my legs… weirdly light, almost itching to run ahead.

“That’ll give us time to get started,” I murmured, biting the corner of my lip.

Right there on the mall ledge, with the ice cream melting between my fingers and a bunch of kids screaming around us, I gave him my first kiss.

And no, it wasn’t magical. It was kinda awkward, rushed. Mouths not quite lining up, people walking by, some giving that judgy stare only folks who’ve never made out in public can pull off. I got nervous. He did too. And we couldn’t find a rhythm that fit.

But despite all that, there was a spark. A hunger. My body wanted to keep going even if the kiss wasn’t perfect.

“Quit being silly,” I said, with an impatient grin. “You’ve picked the spot, I know it. Take me there. We’ll split the bill.”

“Nah, you pay for everything!”

“Hey! The guy’s supposed to cover it all. I’m offering to split ‘cause I’m a modern woman, don’t push your luck.”

He laughed, that cocky, playful chuckle.

“Here’s the deal… If you love it, like really love it, you pay. If you don’t, I cover everything. Deal?”

“You’re betting big… Talk’s cheap. Let’s see you deliver…”

That’s when I realized, or hell, learned: controlling things ain’t about steering the convo. That was the last time I bought into it. ‘Cause look… don’t poke the bear with a guy you don’t know well.

The rest flowed automatic as hell, unavoidable: car, traffic, that dumb nerves of getting spotted pulling into a motel — even knowing nobody gives a damn, it still feels embarrassing.

At the front desk, the awkwardness doubled. The clerk eyed me with this almost smirking neutrality, like she sees a couple hundred pairs a day and could tell from my face it was my first time with this dude.

We headed up.

Soon as we stepped into the suite, my inner teenager went wild. I started poking around like it was an adult amusement park. All the spots to fuck — bed, couch, armchair, mirror on the ceiling, and even that weird cum-stained chair.
The minibar that’d bankrupt you.
The light switches, sound system, TV — which I flipped on just to watch the porn channels and laugh like I wasn’t into it.

I filled the tub.
Tested if the shower water got hot.
Checked if the hairdryer worked.

Yeah, total kid stuff.
Like I’d never been to a motel before, but truth is, I always do this. Like this ritual of testing everything is my way of putting off the inevitable. Or maybe gearing up.

And when that silly thrill of first time in a new spot faded, the straight-up thought hit:
“Time to give it up, huh?”

I hit the bathroom.
Peed, no need for a shit.
Checked my stuff — condom in the purse, pussy clean, fresh panties — that basic checklist only someone who’s had a bad surprise gets.

All good.

Now just open the door and see if this guy was the real deal.

I crossed the threshold, and there he was. Standing, leaning against the wall, shirtless, fiddling with his phone like he was just killing time. The soft suite light hit him just right, tracing the lines of his chest, solid arms, abs defined but not overdone. A tasty type, the kind that seems harmless at first… but his body told a different story.

I walked over with this goofy expectation — figured he’d pull me in slow, hug me, maybe whisper something sweet. Some tenderness. A gentle start. But nope.

He didn’t say a word.

Just looked at me for a second, pocketed his phone, and came at me like a storm.

His hands grabbed my waist hard, fingers digging into my flesh like he wanted to leave marks. He yanked me so fierce my feet left the ground for a beat. Then he kissed me.

It wasn’t a kiss, it was a takeover.

His mouth was all urgency, pressure, raw desire. His tongue dove into mine, breath gone, world vanished. I went limp right away — and it wasn’t the lack of air. It was the hit. The blast. My body screamed, throbbed, begged. In seconds, I was zero to a hundred.

While my head was still spinning, I felt his hand sliding down my legs. Strong. Bossy. Like he owned every inch to explore. My dress was already bunched at my waist, and when he yanked the zipper down my back, I just let it drop.

There, in just my panties, he attacked again.

He came at me like he wanted to devour, lips latching onto my neck and sucking hard, leaving hickeys without asking. His tongue trailed hot and rough, teeth grazing my skin, fingers squeezing my ass like he was testing how much it could take. And me… I didn’t fight back. I just felt it.

When he grabbed my tits with both hands, there was no softness. He squeezed, tugged, bit like he wanted a scream, not a sigh. A moan ripped out of me uncontrolled, unfiltered, and he chuckled low — smug bastard.

His breath hit hot and heavy in my ear as he pinned me to the wall. His hand firm on my neck didn’t hurt, but it made it clear — with quiet command — that he was in charge. No bullshit talk.

And me? I grinned ear to ear. A guy with grip is everything, and this… this had me worried for real. ‘Cause when a man knows exactly what he’s doing, you get lost. But no time to overthink.

In the middle of the crush, he was already stripping. Pants dropped, boxers too, and his cock sprang out, straight, thick, rock-hard, pointing at me like a yummy threat. Heavy at the base, head pulsing and slick.

I grabbed it right then, feeling the hot, alive texture throbbing in my fingers.

That’s when he spoke. Low voice, steady, no time for sweet talk:

“Sit on the bed. Suck it.”

I peeled off the rest of the dress stuck at my waist, no rush, eyes locked on him. Let it slide down my legs and tossed it aside. Slid the fabric over my thighs and took the chance to ditch the panties, skin goosebumped, heart pounding in my throat. Sat on the edge of the bed, grinning like a happy little slut.

“Gimme, daddy…”

He just raised an eyebrow with a laugh and stepped closer.

I shifted, spread my legs, gripped him at the base, and flicked my tongue over the tip. The head was already leaking, and I swirled my tongue there slow, like savoring a hot sundae.

Then I opened wide and took him in. No teasing, no holding back. Swallowed him whole, down to my throat. Felt his cock push deep, eyes watering, but I kept going, spit dripping from the corners of my mouth, soaking my chin, slicking my skin.

He groaned low, hand firm in my hair. I knew I was nailing it.

I sucked with hunger, greed, making wet pops with my mouth, bobbing up and down, varying the pressure, letting my tongue play around the head every time I came up. My hand worked the base, squeezing light, while the other slid down to cup his balls gently, like I knew just what I was doing.

I licked there too, careful, wetting every bit, sucking slow, then back to the cock, deeper, faster. His head fell back. He held his breath. His grip in my hair tightened. And I kept on. ‘Cause I wanted to hear him groan. Wanted to feel him shake, but not cum yet, and it was time to stop.

“No cumming yet, you bastard,” I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, shooting him a sly grin.

“You’re such a tease,” he laughed, still breathing heavy. “So, how do you want it?”

I put on a thoughtful face, all fake, full of sarcasm, but I was already turning, getting into position on the bed in the most obvious way. On all fours, duh. Arched my ass up high, wiggling just to taunt, to egg him on more.

“Like this… if you don’t mind,” I said in the sweetest voice I could fake.

“Not sure…” he replied, with that cocky tone. “I prefer something more Christian. But a little won’t hurt me.”

I was about to snap back, but he knelt behind me and shut down any thought.

First the fingers. Two, thick, sliding in slow but sure. No sweetness, just skill. He knew exactly where to push, how to move. They went in wet, hitting all the hot, pulsing, dripping spots. He worked inside me with circular, rhythmic strokes, nailing my spot like a trigger. I moaned. Deep. Raw. Almost desperate.

Then came his mouth.

His tongue hit my pussy like he wanted to drink me dry. No gentleness, no rush, no mercy. He sucked with real hunger, like my cum was the only thing that mattered right then. His mouth pulled hot, wet, relentless. His tongue pressed my clit with insane precision, like he’d mapped my pleasure before I even stripped.

And me?

I lost it.
My body moved before my brain. I arched more, pushed back, like that’d help me hold on — but it didn’t. Legs started shaking. Breath caught in my throat. I didn’t know if I was moaning, swallowing it, or just letting it happen.

Then it hit.

The orgasm crashed like a wave rising from nowhere and, when it broke, wrecked me inside.
A hot blast in the core of my belly, an electric jolt shooting through my thighs, chest, nape. Muscles clenched almost violently, like the pleasure owned me completely. The moan that came out wasn’t pretty. It was raw. Torn. A scream from deep in my soul, my womb, the pent-up ache of days.

I came hard. Came all over.

Those sucks on my clit, his mouth glued to me, the perfect tongue pressure, it all dragged me to a place where I didn’t think, just felt. My body twisted out of control, hands clutching the sheets, hips grinding against his face like begging him never to stop.

And he kept going. Sucking. Chuckling from the corner of his mouth. Proud as hell.

“Fuck… we should’ve gone for the twenty-minute spot,” I grumbled, laughing, voice weak. “I wanna bail already. Get off me!!!

But he was a perv, a goddamn limit-pusher.

No break for me. He stood like nothing happened, cock still hard as rock, eyes gleaming with lust. Grabbed my waist and tried to pull me back, but I dodged, giggling, aftershocks still jolting through me.

“Stop, I’m all jelly, shaking, can’t do it!” I said, laughing and trying to crawl away on the bed.

But he wasn’t having it. Caught me good. Gripped my waist tight, flipped me onto my stomach, and yanked me back in one move, slamming my hips to his. I felt the head of his cock teasing my entrance, hot, slick, ready — even though I thought I wasn’t.

And he thrust in. No mercy.

The stroke came full and hard, pulling a moan that was half protest, half surrender.
My body yelled, but didn’t pull away. Nah — it took it. Invited it. Begged for more.

He pounded strong, holding my hips like he wouldn’t let anything else in, not even air. The slap of skin echoed through the room. Each thrust like an electric shock. And the craziest part? I came again.

Quick. Brutal.

The second orgasm hit like a raw surge. The sensitivity from the first was still buzzing, alive, and he used it against me. My clit felt exposed, craving touch and screaming for a break at the same time. And even without touching it, the thrusts were enough to break me down.

I came moaning loud, face buried in the mattress, ass up, shaking again. The spasms rolled in waves, rattling my belly, legs, soul.

And he didn’t stop.

His breathing got heavier, groans filling the room, rough, muffled. Until he grabbed my ass hard, slammed in deep one last time, and came all over me — hot, messy, splattering my back, marking my skin like a prize.

We lay there silent for seconds. Room reeking of sex. Skin sticking. And me… with that dumb grin of someone who knew better than to tease, but did it anyway.

Look, girls, don’t tease a guy you don’t know…

“Come here, how much is this place anyway, guess I’m paying this time…”