SARAH

A sane person wouldn’t do this. A normal woman wouldn’t sneak into a man’s bathroom, strip bare, and drop to her knees like some reckless, desperate thing.

But today had been too much. Too fucking much.

The club. The alley. The way he looked at me like he wanted to ruin me and then held back like I was something fragile. Like I needed space.

I didn’t want space. I wanted him.

I needed a release, something to rip me away from the chaos in my head, and there was no better way than this—to take him into my mouth, to taste him, to feel his control slip because of me.

I dragged my tongue over his veiny cock, looking up at him. His chest heaved, muscles tensed, eyes wild with hunger and restraint. I didn’t want restraint.

I wanted the raw, unfiltered version of him.

My fingers trailed over his thighs, nails grazing skin, and I felt the shudder that ran through him. The power in that moment was intoxicating. I leaned in, pressing a slow, teasing kiss where I knew he needed me most, and his groan sent heat spiraling through me.

This was reckless.

This was madness.

But tonight, I didn’t care.

I parted my lips, ready to take him, ready to push us both past the point of no return—

"I need you, Sarah." He whispered, "Please..."

He was so desperate yet he let me take what I needed, let me set the pace. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t forcing—just watching, waiting.

He was patient.

So fucking patient.

Why was he so perfect?

Even as his eyes darkened with each second I delayed, he held himself back. A man like Chris didn’t beg, didn’t plead. He simply waited, letting the weight of his desire press down on me until I felt like I would combust from the sheer force of it.

His hand glided behind my ears, threading into my hair, and he gave it a slow, firm tug—just enough to pack it back, to clear the way. No distractions. No interruptions. Just me, him, and this unbearable heat coiling between us.

And with all that patience, I decided he deserved a reward. A treat.

"Hmm..." A low, satisfied sound slipped from my throat as I finally gave in, parting my lips and taking him in. The way he tensed, the sharp inhale he took, the way his fingers clenched in my hair—it sent another rush of heat through me.

"Holy Fuck...." He choked out, trying his best not to shut his eyes and stared hard at me as I gave him pleasure.

I held onto his hard thighs for balance, pressing deeper, savoring the weight of him on my tongue. His restraint wavered, his hips shifting slightly toward me, his muscles locked tight as though he was holding back from completely losing control.

I wanted him to lose control.

I hollowed my cheeks, dragged my tongue along his length, and the growl that tore from his throat sent a thrill straight to my hole.

Chris always had the power. The control. The dominance.

But right now, I had him in the palm of my hand.

And I was going to make him unravel.

His breath hitched as I kissed the tip, teasing him with slow, deliberate flicks of my tongue. His grip in my hair tightened, his body tense, but he was still holding back. I could see it—the restraint in his clenched jaw, the way his chest rose and fell in deep, controlled breaths.

"Go harder," I murmured against him, my lips brushing over his length.

"Sarah..." His voice was rough, warning.

But I wanted him to snap.

I squeezed him a little harder, making him hiss through his teeth. His fingers flexed in my hair before he let out a low, guttural groan.

"Fine," he muttered, giving in.

A shiver of satisfaction coursed through me, but I wasn’t done. Not yet. I dragged my lips along him, savoring the way he trembled, the way his restraint cracked just a little more with every second.

"After this," I whispered, my breath hot against him, "I want you to take me to your bed and fuck me properly."

His grip tightened but didn't say anything.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes," He panted.

Good.

I took him in once again, my tongue flicking against his heated skin, getting a taste his salty precum.

Chris let out a sharp curse, his hand instinctively tightening in my hair. I felt the power in his grip, the tension in his thighs, the way his entire body went rigid as he let me take control—at least for now.

"Fucking hell Sarah." His voice was thick, rough, nearly guttural."Is this what you wanted?"

I shook my head, pushing myself forward, taking him deeper. The stretch, the weight of him—it was intoxicating. My eyes flicked up to meet his, and what I saw there sent a shiver straight to my core. Pure hunger. Raw need.

"You want more?" he rasped, his fingers tightening just a fraction.

I nodded, unable to speak, my tongue swirling around him as I hollowed my cheeks. His entire body tensed, his breath catching as he let out a string of curses under his breath.

"Sarah, you're driving me insane, you know that?"

I hummed around him, sending vibrations through his length, making him jerk slightly. He didn’t let me think, didn’t give me time to prepare—he moved, his hips rolling forward, guiding me just a little deeper. I gasped around him, the sensation making me lightheaded, but I loved it. I craved it.

His hand cupped my cheek for a brief moment before sliding back to my hair, gathering the strands and pulling gently, controlling the pace.

"That's it," he groaned. "Take me like you mean it."

I moaned against him, the sound muffled but no less desperate. My nails dug into his thighs for balance, my body growing hotter with each passing second. Chris wasn’t just letting me do this—he was savoring it, his restraint hanging by a fragile thread.

He wasn’t holding back anymore. He gave me what I wanted, pushing me further onto him, deeper, until my throat tightened and I let out a strangled whimper. The burn, the stretch—it was almost too much, but I needed it. I needed him.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good," he growled, his thumb brushing the corner of my mouth, catching the wetness that spilled over. "Messy little thing, aren’t you? You like this?"

I moaned again, my own body pulsing with an unbearable need. My thighs clenched together, desperate for any friction, and I knew he could tell. He always knew.

He groaned, his head tilting back slightly before his gaze locked onto mine again. "You keep looking at me like that, and I won’t be able to stop."

I pulled back slightly, pressing a soft, teasing kiss against his tip before whispering, "Then don’t."

His breath shuddered, his fingers tightening for just a second before he forced himself to loosen his grip. "You want me to ruin you, Sarah?"

I smiled against his skin, dragging my tongue slowly, deliberately along the underside of his length. "I want to get fucked so yes ruin me, Chris."

"You want to get ruined, hmm?" He asked again which made me nod without thinking.

I swallowed, my chest rising and falling as I met his intense gaze. "Yes," I whispered, voice trembling. "Ruin me."

The air between us thickened, his lips parted, a breath of a chuckle escaping but there was no amusement in it. "This woman," he murmured, almost like he was talking to himself. And then—he moved.

In a flash, his hands gripped me tight, lifting me off the ground. A startled gasp left my lips, but my body responded instinctively, legs locking around his waist, arms clinging to his shoulders. He held me like I weighed nothing, his lips hovered dangerously close to mine, teasing me ever so deliciously.

"What my woman wants, she gets," he said, voice thick with possession.

The words undid me.

His mouth crashed against mine, and I moaned, fingers tangling into his hair as he kissed me like I was his last breath. There was no hesitation, no gentleness—only heat, only hunger, only the taste of him mixed with the remnants of his release on my tongue. It made everything hotter, filthier, and I lost myself in it, in him.

Somewhere in the haze, I felt movement—him walking, carrying me out of the bathroom, and then—softness. My back met his bed, the contrast between the cool sheets and the heat raging inside me sending a shudder through my body.

When I opened my eyes, he was standing at the foot of the bed, just looking at me.

Like I was something to be devoured.

"God, you're so gorgeous," he murmured, almost to himself, as if he was trying to drink me in, to commit me to memory before he did exactly what I had begged for.

My chest tightened, my body burning under the weight of his gaze. How was it possible to feel so wanted, so completely desired, by a man like him?

Then, he leaned in. Slowly, like he wanted to prolong the torment, his fingers ghosted along my leg, trailing fire in their wake.

His lips followed, soft and deliberate, each press making my skin tingle. I sucked in a breath, my head falling back into the pillow as I let myself feel—really feel—the way he touched me.

When his hands finally parted my legs, a suddenness of anxiety and eagerness kicked in.

"May I?" His lips brushed against my inner thigh, slow, torturous kisses dragging fire along my skin. My breath hitched, my hands flying to his hair, my body already arching toward him as if it had no choice.

"I need a taste, Sarah." He said. "I need to taste you so badly." He spread my legs wider than before and I could feel my insides ready to be touched by his tongue.

"Then taste me, Chris." I breathed, the word barely escaping my lips. "Please."

My fingers curled into his hair, pulling him in, desperate for more as I moved myself closer in return.

Please touch me, please touch me, please tou—

A breathless plea escaped my thoughts and before I could say more, he silenced me with the first slow stroke of his tongue.

"Ahh!" A sharp gasp tore through me, my back arching as the sensation sent a wildfire racing through my veins. My fingers tightened in his hair as my legs trembled, my stomach clench as the pleasure was so sudden, so intense, I almost couldn’t breathe.

"God," I choked out, my head tipping back, eyes squeezing shut. He was relentless, purposeful, as if he was memorizing every reaction, every shudder that wracked through me.

"Go harder, Chris." My voice was nothing more than a desperate whisper, my fingers tightening in his hair as if anchoring myself to him. His hands gripped my thighs, pulling me closer, locking me against him like he never intended to let go.

He groaned against me, the sound vibrating through every nerve in my body, sending a hot, reckless shiver up my spine. Every slow, deliberate stroke of his tongue unraveled me, left me gasping, my body arching into him. My thighs clenched around his head, but he only pressed in deeper, dragging another moan from me that I couldn’t control.

“God, Sarah,” he muttered, his voice rough with hunger, his breath scorching against my most sensitive skin. “You taste so fucking sweet. I could stay here forever.”

His words sent heat pooling deep inside me, my whole body burning under his touch. I whimpered as he flicked his tongue with wicked precision, teasing, tasting, tormenting. My hands fisted in the sheets, my legs trembling as he pushed me closer to the edge, never relenting.

“You wanted me to go harder?” His voice was dark, teasing. “Then take it, love.”

Before I could even process his words, he gripped my hips and pulled me impossibly closer, his tongue thrusting deep, wrecking me with every stroke. A strangled cry ripped from my throat as pleasure crashed over me, leaving me breathless, mindless, drowning in him.

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t slow.

He devoured me.

"I want to cum." My voice trembled, breathless, my body barely able to handle the pleasure building inside me. "I want to cum, Chris, so stop teasing and fuck me. Now."

His mouth left me, and I almost whined at the loss of his heat. But I needed him inside me more than I needed my next breath.

"Condom," I gasped.

He reached into the nightstand drawer and within seconds, he retrieved a couple of foil packets, and I almost laughed despite the unbearable need between my thighs.

"Did you know this would happen?"

"No." He smirked as he tore one open with his teeth, rolling the condom over himself in one smooth motion. "Okay, maybe—but not this soon."

"Then how soon?"

He exhaled sharply, leaning in until our lips almost touched, his breath hot against my mouth. "Do you want to ask questions, or do you want to get fucked, Sarah?"

"I can do both," I shot back, my fingers tracing his abdomen, feeling every ridge of muscle tighten under my touch.

"Sure you can." His grip tightened around my thighs, and suddenly, I was dragged closer, our bodies flush, my legs instinctively hooking around his waist. I could feel him—hard, heavy, teasing me as he let the moment stretch.

"But sadly, I can't."

Before I could react, he pushed me back into the mattress, his weight pressing me into it. His mouth crashed against mine, deep and consuming, his tongue claiming me as his hands roamed every inch of my body.

"Chris—" I gasped as he pulled away just enough to position himself, his tip brushing against me, taunting, driving me insane.

"Say it again." he murmured against my lips, teasing me with shallow, torturous strokes.

"Fuck me." My voice was nothing more than a plea. "Ruin me."

A low growl rumbled from his chest.

"This woman," he muttered under his breath before gripping my hips, his hands rough, possessive.

And then he thrust into me, and I fell apart in his arms. He pushed forward—slowly, deliberately. A sharp gasp tore from my lips, my fingers digging into his arms as my body adjusted to him.

“Shit,” he exhaled through clenched teeth, his head dropping to my shoulder. “You feel too good, Sarah.”

I whimpered, biting my lip to hold back the sounds threatening to spill out.

But he wasn’t having it.

His grip tightened, tilting my chin up so I had no choice but to meet his eyes. “Don’t hold back,” he murmured, his voice thick with command and desire. “I want to hear you. No one’s here to stop you, love. Scream for me.”

And then he thrust deeper, knocking the air from my lungs.

A strangled moan escaped me as waves of pleasure crashed over my body. His rhythm was slow at first, torturous, every stroke drawing out a pleasure so intense it bordered on unbearable.

“Chris—” His name was a broken plea on my lips.

“That’s it,” he praised, his voice husky. “Say my name again.”

“Chris,” I gasped, my body arching, chasing the friction, the heat, the overwhelming need for more.

He shifted then, lifting my leg, pushing it up until my toes barely grazed the headboard. The angle sent a sharp, dizzying sensation spiraling through me, and when he moved again—harder, deeper—I nearly sobbed.

“Fuck—” My head fell back, my hands grasping at the sheets, at him, at anything to keep me grounded.

His mouth brushed over my jaw, my neck, his breath hot against my skin. “You’re so goddamn beautiful like this,” he rasped. “Falling apart just for me.”

I was unraveling, losing myself in the way he moved, the way he consumed me, the way his body fit against mine so perfectly it felt inevitable, like something that was always meant to happen.

I clung to him, nails raking down his back as he drove me higher, his name the only thing I could say, the only thing I could think.

And when the pleasure finally broke, when the world blurred into nothing but sensation, I screamed his name like he wanted—like he demanded.

Before I could fully catch my breath, he moved—suddenly, effortlessly. In a blur, I found myself on top of him, my thighs straddling his hips, his strong hands holding me there like he’d never let me go. My palms pressed against his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath, the heat of his skin searing against mine.

His green eyes, dark and burning with hunger, locked onto mine.

“Ride me, love.” His voice was low, rough, wrecked. His hands settled on my hips, thumbs pressing into my skin, urging, guiding. “I want you to take charge.”

Heat pooled between my legs at his words, my heart pounding so loud I swore he could hear it. I licked my lips, barely able to process the power he was giving me—the control. He was letting me set the pace, letting me take what I needed.

“Come on, Sarah,” he coaxed, his grip tightening, his patience unraveling. “I know you want to.”

I did. God, I did.

Slowly, I sank down onto him, a gasp tearing from my lips as I felt every inch stretch me, fill me, claim me. His head fell back against the pillow, a deep groan rumbling from his chest, his fingers tightening on my hips like he was barely holding on.

“Fuck,” he rasped, his jaw clenching. “You feel so damn good.”

I braced my hands against his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath my fingertips as I adjusted, letting myself savor the overwhelming sensation of him inside me. His hands trailed up my waist, teasing my ribs before resting just beneath my breasts. His thumbs brushed my skin in slow, lazy circles, his touch at odds with the raw intensity in his eyes.

“Just like that, love.” His voice was rough, filled with barely restrained need. “Take what you need.”

I moved, tentatively at first, rolling my hips against his, finding a rhythm that sent pleasure sparking through me. His grip tightened, a curse slipping past his lips as he watched me, completely undone beneath me.

“Fuck, Sarah,” he groaned, his hands digging into my hips, like he was holding himself back from flipping me over and taking control.

But not yet.

Not yet.

I leaned forward, pressing my lips to his, swallowing his next curse, his next plea. My fingers tangled in his hair as I moved faster, the friction between us sending me spiraling, sending both of us crashing into something uncontrollable.

And in that moment, with his body trembling beneath mine, his hands gripping me like he’d never let go, I realized—I never wanted him to.