Olivia POV

"I see you are dripping wet down there."

The man’s voice was low, unhurried, and he wasn’t lying. How could I not be?

His thick rod pressed against me from behind, hot, rigid, unyielding, and for a split second I wondered if I could even take it. It felt so big, so heavy, like it was meant to split me open.

A thought slipped in—should I walk away? But I was too far gone. I was horny, yes. Craving. It had been so long since I’d been touched, so long since I’d been laid. I had always been busy with work, it had swallowed me whole. I had no time for myself, no time for release.

But here I was now. In a stranger’s bed. A man I knew nothing about, except for one undeniable fact—he was devastatingly handsome.

I’d walked into the bar earlier, only hoping to crash off stress, drown it in liquor, and let the noise blur out the world. Then I saw him.

He walked in like he owned the air around him—black pants hugging him perfectly, a red shirt that stretched over his chest, and glasses that was dark and sharp. A sight that made my breath stumble. And just like that, I pictured myself in his arms, under him, his weight pressing me down into the sheets.

"Available for one night?" He had stopped in front of me. I hadn’t even noticed until he spoke.

"I am not a slut."

I had to say it. I didn’t want to look cheap, even if my body burned for him. Even if I wanted him.

"The pay will be worth your while. I promise."

His eyes dragged over me, unashamed, stopping on my breasts like he already owned them.

I get that a lot—men staring at my round, perky boobs. Always the first invitation, the thing they never look past.

"That’s not necessary. It’s just fun. I’m down for it."

He smirked, the kind of smirk that told me he always got what he wanted. And just like that, we left together, moving toward the hotel closest to the bar, like it was inevitable.

Now here we were.

"Penny for your thoughts?" His hand stilled against me, his eyes locked on my face as if he’d been waiting for me to drift away.

How could I tell him I was lost in how dangerously hot he looked?

It felt perverted, obsessive even.

"Nothing," I said with a smile.

"You look so beautiful."

His voice was velvet and steel, deep enough to crawl under my skin. It moved something inside me I couldn’t control.

"You don’t look bad yourself."

His hands were already roaming, broad and hot, snaking across my body like they knew me already.

I lay back, surrendering, as his tongue found my belly button.

"Mmm," I moaned. That was sensitive, electric even.

"Oh? Your sensitive spot?"

His tongue dragged upward, slow, deliberate, until it circled one breast, then the other, kissing, teasing, claiming. My nipples were already hard, nailed against his mouth.

Then he stopped again. His gaze heavy, fixed, almost too serious. Not the wild lust I expected.

"Is something—"

I never finished. His mouth captured mine. At first, a soft peck, but then deeper, urgent. His lips sealed over mine, his teeth tugging at my bottom lip until I gasped.

And then he took me. His tongue slipped into my mouth, tasting, pulling me under. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a devouring. I’d never kissed like this before, never felt my mouth worshipped like candy he couldn’t stop sucking.

He pulled back with a smile.

"Would you believe me if I told you your lips was delicious?"

"I—" The word died. His tongue was already back, owning me.

"Mm," I moaned against him as his hand slid lower, one thick finger slipping inside me. He moved slow, unbearably slow, before building—one tempo, two, faster, deeper—until I was shaking, until my body betrayed me, cumming hard on his hand.

I was still trembling when I felt the wet warmth of his tongue at my entrance. I looked down, my breath breaking, and saw him between my thighs, devouring. His tongue lapped, teased, pushed in, tasting everything. His teeth grazed my clit, making me cry out, soft and needy.

"Mmm," another moan slipped from me, helpless.

"You taste delicious." His eyes, now wild with lust, never left mine.

He went deeper, tongue twisting inside me, greedy, relentless. My body arched off the bed.

Then his belt fell away, his pants sliding down, and I saw him—thick, long, erect in full glory. My lips parted, stunned at the sight.

Would it fit? Could it fit?

"It will fit."

His laugh was dark, knowing. As if he read my thoughts.

He pressed his cock to my entrance, rubbing, teasing, feeling the slick heat.

"You’re wet and ready."

"Uhhh—!" The thrust came without warning, driving deep, filling me in one hard push.

He stilled, buried inside, staring at me. "You’re tight."

I shifted, uncomfortable, stretching around him.

"Uhnn—" His groan was guttural, deep, vibrating inside me. I felt him grow even bigger, swelling until I thought I’d split.

"Stay still." His head dropped against my stomach, breath hot and ragged on my skin. "You’re killing me."

But I couldn’t stay still. He filled me too much, stretching me in ways no man had. My body moved on its own.

Finally, he began thrusting. Slow, controlled, like he was holding back a storm. It made me restless, impatient.

I spread wider, wrapped my legs around him, pulled him in deeper. God—it went deeper, and I gasped.

"You…" he chuckled. "Impatient now, aren’t you?"

Still, he dragged it out, teasing me with restraint.

I tried pushing him, pulling him faster, but he pinned my wrists to the bed, forcing me open, laughing at my frustration.

"You are beautiful," he murmured, kissing my eyes, gentle worship in the middle of madness.

Then his thrusts snapped sharp, fast, hitting my G-spot again and again.

"Uhhh—!" My breath shattered, my body unraveling.

He hooked one of my legs up, folding me open, and pushed deeper, faster, merciless now. There was no pause, no chance to breathe, just his relentless pounding.

"I’m cumming—" The words tore out of me.

He groaned, spilling hot across my stomach. The scent, the heat—it should have turned me off, but it didn’t. His was different. I wanted more.

He rolled me over, kisses trailing down my spine, hot, wet, claiming.

"Olivia."

He called my name. His voice low, intoxicated. I froze.

"How do you know my name? I didn’t tell you."

He stiffened, tightening his hold on me from behind.

"I heard someone call you when you were on the phone earlier."

It sounded like a lie, but someone had truly called my name earlier.

"Olivia," he whispered again, his hand cupping my breast, fingers teasing my nipple until my thoughts left me completely.

"You smell so nice." His lips at my neck, sucking, biting, leaving his mark.

And then, without warning, he thrust into me from behind. Hard. Deep. No teasing this time.

I shattered all over again, moaning helplessly. His pace rough, relentless, my body nothing but fire. His words blurred into my ear, but my brain couldn’t catch them.

"I’m cumming," he groaned, driving faster, deeper, until we both screamed it out together.

"Uhhh—!" His release spilled inside me, hot, burning, his lips still on my neck. And I didn’t hate it. I wanted him to stay there, buried, marking me.

We collapsed into the sheets, tangled and breathless, his arm tighter around my waist.

But his hand never stopped—curling around my belly button, lips trailing my back, teeth marking me again.

And I knew—this night wasn’t over. It was only just beginning.