Finally home. Alone. The room shimmered in the warm, golden glow of candles scattered everywhere—a flickering luminescence that bathed everything in a seductive, gentle shimmer. The air hung heavy with the scent of vanilla sweetness, mingled with a hint of musk that clouded her senses.
The day had been brutal. A project at the law firm that failed—again. A client who couldn’t grasp her vision. Six hours in meetings where she’d had to raise her voice just to be heard.
Lena slipped off the silky kimono, let it fall to the floor. Her copper-red hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, gleaming in the golden candlelight. Beneath it, she wore nothing but a gauzy turquoise lace top, so sheer it revealed far more than it concealed… and a tiny silk thong that clung to her hips like temptation itself.
She studied herself in the mirror. Her ice-blue eyes—intense, almost unnaturally bright—gazed back at her as if looking at a stranger. The copper hair framed her face like flame. Her skin glowed in the candlelight. Her nipples were already hard, excited little points beneath the delicate mesh.
Lena settled onto the bed, the cool sheets beneath her thighs. The contrast—the coolness of fabric against her already warm skin—sent a shiver racing through her.
Her fingers glided slowly over her bare arms. Goosebumps spread like a wave. As they traced her throat, she couldn’t suppress a soft moan. She let her hand slide across her chest, felt her nipples contract—hard and sensitive.
Her breathing grew faster. Heavier.
She let her hand continue downward. Over her flat belly, which tensed beneath her touch, until she finally reached the place her body was crying for.
Her fingers glided over the delicate fabric of her thong. The friction was so sweet it made her dizzy for a moment. A longing tremor coursed through her. Her legs opened instinctively wider as she surrendered to the tingling heat building inside her.
There were no rules anymore. No inhibitions. Only the wild desire flooding through her, pulling her deeper into this intoxicating haze with every touch.
With her eyes closed, she let herself go completely. Her fingers moved relentlessly—faster, deeper—as if only this could release the unbearable tension simmering within her.
The world around her faded.
Only the heat mattered. The pressure that intensified with each breath. Her hips moved in rhythm with her fingers, pressing against her own hand.
An ecstatic gasp escaped her as her body trembled with pleasure, her heart hammering wildly. She lost herself in that sweet, intoxicating moment—her first orgasm of the night, but certainly not the last.
Yet the desire didn’t fade. This night was hers. And she wasn’t about to hold back.
Her touches became more intense, more uncontrolled.
“Oh yes…” Her voice was little more than a ragged whisper as her hand slid slowly across her belly. The skin beneath felt hot, each touch sending small shivers through her body.
Her breath came faster. Heavier.
She pushed the edge of her tiny thong down with trembling fingers. The sensitive skin beneath finally lay bare, and she let her fingertips glide over the smooth warmth—barely more than a gentle touch, yet so intense.
“God… that feels so good…” With her other hand, she pushed the delicate lace of her top aside, freeing her breast. Her finger found the sensitive nipple immediately. The hard, aroused point strained against her touch, and she massaged it between thumb and forefinger while a soft, uncontrolled moan slipped from her lips.
Her senses were heightened. Everything felt more intense.
The heat spreading through her became more and more unbearable. A burning desire that crept from her toes to her head. A sweet, exciting pain that drove her mad.
Her fingers glided deeper, found the pulsing spot that nearly drove her insane with pleasure. Again and again she let her touches circle, playing with the sensitivity of her own skin, while she spread her legs further.
The bed creaked softly beneath her movements—a rhythmic squeak that mixed with her breath. Outside, rain hammered against the window, a constant drumming that reduced the world to her and this moment.
“Yes… just like that…” A stifled moan tore from her throat. She drove herself further and further. The pressure built, mounting inexorably, as her fingers moved faster.
Every thought, every feeling was concentrated on that single point.
Finally the wave rolled over her, left her trembling as she completely let go. Her body convulsed with intense pleasure, her breathing came in ragged, violent gasps.
She lay there, completely undone, her skin still glowing from the heat she’d unleashed within herself. Yet a part of her still wanted more. Much more.
A soft knock shattered the silence.
Lena froze, her hand still between her legs. Panic shot through her.
Who the hell?
She grabbed her kimono and slipped into it hastily, her heart hammering against her ribs. With trembling fingers, she opened the door—just a crack.
Marco.
Her neighbor from next door. Tall, muscular, with dark hair that fell carelessly across his forehead. His lips curved in a smile—not a dirty grin, but something subtler. His eyes studied her with unveiled hunger, traveled over her barely concealed body.
“I heard you,” he said simply. His voice was rough, deep, saturated with unveiled desire.
Her cheeks burned. “And?”
“And I thought maybe you could use… some company.”
She should have slammed the door. Should have told him to fuck off. Instead, she found herself asking, “What do you want?”
He stepped closer. She smelled him—sandalwood, musk, a hint of rain. “I could ask you the same thing, Lena.”
Her name from his mouth. She’d never spoken to him before. How did he know?
“Your mailbox,” he said, as if he’d read her mind. “Lena Fischer, 4B.”
“Creepy.”
Silence…
Lena didn’t open the door wider. “What exactly are you offering?”
Marco laughed quietly—a dark, knowing sound. “Direct. I like that.”
“I don’t have time for games.” A lie. She had all the time in the world. And he knew it.
“Good.” He leaned closer, his face only inches from hers. “Then let me be clear: I came here because the silence in my place is driving me crazy. And I came here because I heard that you understand what that means.”
“I don’t know you,” she said.
“No. But you’re curious. Or you would have closed the door by now.”
Damn. He was right.
“What do you want, Marco?” Her voice was sharper, more defensive.
“I want to give you what you obviously need. But only if you let me in. And only if you’re willing to admit that you want it too.”
Silence.
Lena’s hand lay on the doorknob. A decision. Give up control? Or send him away?
“On one condition,” she said finally.
“Which?”
“No lies. No games. If I say stop…”
“…then I stop.” He finished her sentence. “Deal.”
She stepped aside. The door opened.
Marco closed the door, the click of the lock echoing through the silence. He didn’t move further, just stood there, his hands loose at his sides.
“You’re standing there like you’re waiting for instructions,” Lena said, her voice sharp.
“I am.”
“From me?”
“From you.” His gaze held hers.
She crossed her arms. “You’re the one who showed up. You wanted…”
“I wanted to make you an offer,” he interrupted gently. “But I don’t take anything that isn’t given back.”
Lena laughed in disbelief. “And if I have nothing to give back?”
“Then I’ll leave and let you be in peace.” Simple. Clear.
She believed him.
That was the problem.
For minutes they said nothing. The silence was electric, charged with everything left unspoken.
Then Lena stepped closer. One step. Then another. Until she stood directly in front of him, close enough to feel the warmth of his body.
“I don’t want a relationship,” she said quietly, but firmly. “I don’t want promises. I just want…”
She swallowed hard. “I just want to feel. Just tonight.”
Marco slowly raised a hand, brushed a strand of hair from her face. The touch was so gentle it hurt.
“I can give you that,” he said. “But only if you trust me.”
“Trust?” Her laugh was bitter. “I don’t even know you.”
“True.” He tilted his head, his face only inches from hers. “And yet here we are in your apartment.”
She hated that he was right.
The room suddenly felt too small. Too hot. Too full of possibilities.
Then he leaned forward.
His mouth found hers with a certainty that left no room for questions. The kiss wasn’t wild, not greedy. It was… precise. Controlled. Demanding.
Lena froze, her hands hovering helplessly in the air. But then she tasted him—coffee, mint, something dark, undefined—and something in her gave way.
Her lips opened.
His tongue slid between them, exploring her with a slowness that was almost cruel. Every touch calculated, every movement deliberate.
He kissed her like he was deciphering a secret.
Lena’s hands finally found his neck, her fingers buried themselves in his hair. She pulled him closer, wanted more, needed more.
But Marco controlled the pace. His hands glided to her waist, gripped her firmly, pulled her so close that no space remained between them.
“Take off your clothes…” she gasped against his mouth.
“Not yet,” he murmured, his smile felt against her lips. “We have time.”
“I don’t want time.” Her voice broke.
“Yes, you do.” He bit gently on her lower lip. “Trust me.”
And damn it—she did.
He led her slowly to the bed. Gently, but demandingly. His hands were everywhere—at her waist, her back, her ass—leaving burning trails on her skin.
The kimono slipped from her shoulders like water, wound around her feet.
Lena stood before him in the thin lace top and tiny thong that barely concealed anything. Marco took a step back. Looked at her.
Not with lust. Not with hunger.
With reverence.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, and his voice sounded rough, almost broken.
Lena laughed nervously. “All men say that.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I don’t mean just your body. I mean… you.”
Her breath caught.
“Maybe you should get to know me first.” Her voice trembled.
He did.
Marco laid her on the bed—gently, not roughly. Then he knelt beside her, began to touch her. Shoulders first, then arms, belly, hips. He deliberately avoided her breasts and her center.
The frustration built up.
“I’ll fall asleep at this rate,” Lena whispered, unable to hold back the words.
“What do you want?” His fingers danced across her belly, circled her navel, slipped lower—but not far enough.
“You know exactly what I want.”
“Tell me anyway.” He bent over her, his breath hot against her cheek. “I want to hear it.”
“Don’t be so timid. Damn it, just touch me.”
His laugh was dark, satisfied. “Where?”
“Everywhere…”
His hand closed around her breast, squeezed. Not gently. Not brutally. Perfect.
Lena cried out, her back arching off the bed. His thumb stroked across her hard nipple, circled, pressed. His other hand slipped between her legs, rubbed over the thin fabric of her thong.
“God—yes—everywhere…” She couldn’t think clearly anymore.
“Patience,” he murmured, but his own control was showing cracks. She could hear it in his breathing—faster, more irregular.
Marco pulled her thong over her hips, over her legs, tossed it aside carelessly. Lena now lay completely naked before him, her legs spread, her body trembling with anticipation.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, more to himself. His hands glided along the inside of her thighs, spread her further.
Then he bent forward.
The first contact of his tongue against her most sensitive spot made Lena gasp loudly. The taste—salty, intimate, intense—spread across his lips. He closed his eyes, let himself be overwhelmed by it.
The sound—wet, obscene, primitive—filled the room. She could hear his tongue gliding against her flesh, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps, her own voice transforming into an animal whimper.
His tongue circled her clit, pressed, licked, sucked. Then a finger glided inside her—slowly, deeply. Then two. They crawled inward, searching, finding—there. The spot that made her shiver.
“Oh God—Marco—I can’t…”
“You can,” he murmured against her, the vibration of his voice coursing through her. “Just let go.”
His tongue became faster, harder, while his fingers worked deep inside her. The scent of their bodies—her musk mixed with his sandalwood and sweat—was overwhelming.
“I’m—oh God—I’m coming…”
“Yes.” His command. His permission.
And she shattered.
The orgasm ripped through her like a storm, made her body convulse, her hips press against his face. A scream tore from her—loud, uncontrolled—while wave after wave rolled through her.
Marco didn’t stop. Licked her through every spasm, every aftershock, until she lay trembling, gasping, completely exhausted before him.
Only then did he pull back, slowly wiped his mouth, his gaze satisfied, possessive.
“That wasn’t a bad start,” he said.
Lena still lay breathless, her body trembling with aftershocks, as Marco sat up.
She watched him as he unbuttoned his shirt—slowly, deliberately, as if he knew she was watching. His upper body came into view. Defined muscles, a thin scar across his ribs, his broad chest.
Then his pants. A quick removal, boxers down.
He stood before her, completely naked, and Lena couldn’t help but stare. His cock was hard, dark red, pulsing—a visual proof of how much he wanted her.
“Like what you see?” His voice was cocky, knowing.
Instead of answering, Lena sat up—slowly, deliberately. She was still dazed, her legs unsteady, but something in her had awakened. Something wild.
“Stand there,” she commanded.
He laughed quietly. “Is that an order?”
“Yes.” She stood up, while her eyes stayed on his. “Problem?”
“No.” He leaned back, waited. “Interesting.”
Lena stepped closer, her hand closed around his hard cock. He twitched under her touch, a soft moan escaping him.
“A minute ago you wanted me to obey you,” she said with a smile that was purely evil. “What changed?”
“Nothing.” His eyes were dark, intense. “I just want to see where this goes.”
“Let me surprise you.” She pressed him—gently but firmly—onto the bed.
For a moment he didn’t resist. He let himself be pressed down, landed on his back, Lena stroking his hips. Her hands pressed against his chest, her nails dug gently into the flesh.
“You’re trying to control me,” he noted, his smile unchanged.
“Yes,” she breathed. “And I’m damn good at it.”
“I can see that.”
Lena lowered herself slowly, her eyes on his face. She wanted to see his reactions. Every single one.
Her lips met his inner thighs first, pressed gentle kisses into the warm skin. Marco inhaled sharply, his hands dug into the sheets.
“I thought I had control?” His voice was already rough, strained.
“You did.” She licked slowly along his thigh. “But now it’s my turn.”
She let her tongue glide over his scrotum—gently, savoring—and he twitched.
“Damn…” The word escaped him like a curse, like a prayer.
Lena laughed quietly, the sound vibrating against his skin. She could feel how his entire body tensed, waiting, hoping.
She let him wait.
Instead, she kissed around him—everywhere except where he needed it. Her tongue played with the base of his cock, teasing, shameless.
“Please…” The word broke from him like a confession.
“What?” She looked up at him, her eyes wild with a sense of power. “Tell me what you want.”
“You. I want…”
She lowered her mouth onto him.
He cried out—an uncontrolled sound that came from deep in his chest. His cock was hot, hard, pressing throbbing against her tongue.
Lena moved slowly, deliberately, let him feel every inch. Her lips glided firmly along his length while her tongue made small circles. She could taste him—salty, male, unique.
“God, Lena—you’re—” He couldn’t finish speaking.
She accelerated, drew him deeper, while her hand gripped the base and moved in the same rhythm. His body twitched beneath her, his hips thrusted upward—an unconscious drive for more.
She let him.
Let him glide into her mouth while she sped up her movements. Not rough, not brutal, but with a precision that began to unravel him.
“Damn—I’m coming—if you don’t stop—”
She stopped.
Pulled back, her lips gliding over his tip before she straightened. His gaze was lost, confused, hungry.
“Not yet,” she said with a satisfied smile.
“Damn…” But his tone was fascinated, not angry.
“You provoked me,” she said. “Now you learn what it means when I have control.”
Lena positioned herself over him, her knees on either side of his hips. She could feel how the air between them vibrated—electric, tense, primitive.
“Let me do this,” she said quietly. “No talking. No control. Just… give me what I want.”
Marco nodded, his jaw clenched, his eyes dark as a storm.
Lena grasped his cock, positioned it slowly against herself. The tip pressed against her wet center, and a shiver ran through both of them.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she sank down onto him.
The sensation was overwhelming—his hardness, his size, the way he filled her perfectly. She could feel every inch, every pulse, as she sank further.
“Oh God…” Her breath caught.
“You’re so damn tight,” he whispered, his voice broken.
She ignored him, focused only on the sensation—how he glided into her until he was completely sheathed.
Then she stayed still for a moment, her eyes closed, her body trembling.
The scent of their bodies—her musk, his sandalwood, both their sweat—was overwhelming. The sound: wetness, deep breaths, the quiet intensity of two people on the edge of complete loss.
“Wait…” His hands gripped her hips. “I need…”
But Lena was already moving.
Slowly at first—a lifting and lowering that made them both tremble. She opened her eyes, looked down at him, saw pure lust and submission on his face.
“Mmm—yes…” She sped up the rhythm, her hips circled, her body swung fluidly over his.
She had the control.
She bent down and kissed him—hard, demanding—while she rode him. His taste—sweat, intensity, something sweet—filled her mouth.
Marco tried to move his hips, wanted to ride along, but Lena pulled back.
“No,” she said, her lips still against his. “This is MY pace.”
He went rigid, only his chest rising heavily beneath her.
Lena continued her rhythm—faster now, deeper, her body sliding over his. With each movement, the base of him pressed against her clit, and a sharp shiver ran through her.
“God—that feels—you are…” Marco’s words were fragmented, barely coherent.
She enjoyed it. The control. The fact that this intelligent, dominant man was helpless beneath her.
But then—he moved.
Just slightly, a small movement of his hip to sink deeper into her.
Lena stopped, her eyes flew open. “Why aren’t you listening?”
“I’m sorry—I can’t…”
“Yes, you can.” She pressed his wrists onto his chest, pushed him harder into the bed. “Damn it, stay still.”
That was… Lena’s inner self was now not just controlled. It was dominant. Possessive. Wild.
She rode him faster, her entire body working, drenched in sweat, glowing with desire. This wasn’t just lust. This was power. This was the feeling of having another person—this person—under her complete control.
Marco’s eyes rolled back, his body shaking, fighting the urge to move.
“Lena—damn—I can’t—much longer…”
“I know,” she whispered, savoring it. “Wait for me.”
She pressed down on him faster, the pressure in her belly building—a familiar heat that grew with every thrust. She was close. So close.
She looked down at him—at his distorted face, the cords in his neck, the way he trembled. This power. This intimate power.
“Come…” His plea was rough, begging. “Let me…”
“Not yet…”
But it was too much. For both of them.
The orgasm hit her like a lightning bolt. Her body convulsed around him while she let out a raw scream that was too wild to contain.
Marco held on for just a moment, then surrendered—his body drove into her, a loud moan tore from him, as he exploded his hot cum deep inside her.
They sat, connected, trembling, breathless.
“My turn,” Marco murmured, his tone dark.
Before Lena could protest, he rolled her over. Her breasts hit the sheets, her hips lifted automatically—instinct, not negotiation.
He positioned himself behind her, his cock—still hard—pressed against her entrance.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he breathed against her neck before he slowly sank into her.
Lena gasped, unable to answer, as the depth of this position overwhelmed her. He was as deep as possible, pressing against areas she’d forgotten existed.
“God—yes—hard—please…”
And this time he didn’t negotiate. This time there was no power play. This time it was pure instinct.
His thrusts were fast, precise, driven. His hands gripped her hips, pressed her against him, while he drove into her. The sounds—wet, primitive, unfiltered—filled the room.
Lena pressed her face into the sheets, her breath coming only in wild gasps.
“Damn, Lena—you’re so hot…”
An arm wrapped around her waist, lifted her hips, changed the angle. The next thrust hit the exact spot that made her scream.
“Scream for me.”
And she did.
With every thrust she screamed—his name, curses, prayers. She was no longer an architect. She was pure body, pure sensation.
Marco’s movements became wilder, less controlled. His control—that damn perfect control—crumbled under the weight of his lust.
“I’m coming—damn—you’re driving me…”
“YES!” Lena drove back against him. They were no longer strategic. They were no longer in a power struggle.
They were simply two people who needed each other.
His orgasm came hard, involuntary, a cry from his throat as he pressed himself deep inside her. And Lena came with him—an orgasm triggered by his spasms.
They collapsed together, entangled, sweating, breathless.
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