We met online.
You know the kind of connection that buzzes through your fingertips, makes you check your phone at red lights, replay voice notes like they’re love songs?
Yeah. That kind.

We’d been talking for months — nasty, sweet, dirty, real.
He knew what my thighs could do before he ever touched them, and I knew the sound of his breath when he stroked it slow… just thinking about me.

But tonight was different.
I flew out. Hair laid, lingerie packed, thick thighs ready to part like scripture.

When he walked into the hotel room, he didn’t say a word. Didn’t ask how the flight was. Didn’t compliment the heels or my fresh press.
He just grabbed the back of my neck — Firm.
And backed me up against that door like it owed him money.

I let out a little gasp, but not from fear —
No, baby. From recognition.
That alpha energy I’d only tasted through texts? It hit different in person.

He kissed me like he was trying to wipe every other man off my memory. Like he had something to prove… and a mouth that knew how to make me forget my own damn name.

I was dripping before his hands even reached the curve of my ass.
Thick and greedy, my body begged for his touch like it missed him—even though we’d never touched before.

He spun me to face the wall. One hand pulling my hair back, the other sliding up under my dress like it belonged there.

He bit my shoulder —
Hard enough to leave a mark. Soft enough to make me moan, because pain and pleasure ain’t opposites when it’s done right.

His fingers teased between my thighs, finding the heat, the slick, the need.
“Fuck,” he groaned, “You really came like this for me?”
I just smiled.
You can’t trust a big butt and a quiet girl, baby.

By the time he had me on the bed, I was trembling and talking in tongues —
Whispers of daddy, gasps of don’t stop, and breathless curses that only sinners understand.

And when he finally slid in —
Let’s just say I saw god and he had his face.

He didn’t make love. He claimed.
Slow at first, deep enough to feel in my chest. Then rough, like he was trying to ruin me for anyone else.
And baby —
He did.

Hair pulled. Ass slapped. Thighs gripped like handlebars.
He rode me through every promise we’d made in the dark.

And when I came?
It wasn’t cute.
It was filthy.
Shaking, begging, biting his shoulder like I was afraid I’d shatter without the anchor of his body.

Afterward, we didn’t talk much. Didn’t need to.
Just the sound of our breath, and the twitch of his cock still inside me, told me what I already knew —
This wasn’t the last time.