She wasn’t supposed to be there past midnight. Just a casual drink, a shared cigarette on the balcony, their knees brushing once—twice—but her coat never made it back on and neither of them said the words to send the other home. She'd kicked off her boots an hour ago. He hadn’t stopped watching her since the second button of her blouse had come undone when she leaned down to pick up the wine cork. He didn’t even pretend to look away.

“You’re staring,” she said, voice low, glass cradled in her palm like she wasn’t in someone else’s apartment wearing too much makeup and not enough shame.

He shifted on the couch but didn’t apologize, not even a flinch. “You’re letting me.”

Her breath caught the way it would if someone had pulled her hair just hard enough. She laughed—one of those throatier, tired-of-pretending laughs—then got up too fast. Her skirt rode high when she stood, fabric catching on the curve of her ass and barely falling back into place. He didn’t move. He just looked, and then his hand reached up, lazy, slow, until two fingers touched the inside of her knee, just above the hem.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” she murmured.

He grinned, thumb brushing higher. “Oh, I think you know exactly.”

She stood between his legs now, the space narrow enough that the heat from her thighs rolled into him like waves over dry sand. She didn't stop him when his hand slid higher. She didn’t stop him when his palm cupped between her legs and found just how little was underneath that skirt. No lace. No lining. Just heat and soft wet flesh aching behind her skin, lips already parting as if they missed his mouth.

Her eyes fluttered closed, her lips barely parting. “You’re being bad,” she whispered.

He leaned in, mouth at her hip, stubble scratching her skin as he exhaled. “I know.”

She gasped when his tongue traced the line where thigh met fold, licking upwards through silk and scent. Her knees buckled. He slid lower on the couch, hands firm under her ass, lifting, spreading, until she was straddling his lap with her knees on either side and the skirt bunched to her waist like it had never been part of the plan.

“You’re soaked,” he growled, nose buried in her center, inhaling deep like he could snort her sex into his brain. “Fuck, you’re gonna drown me, you feel that?”

She nodded, dumb, open, trembling. His tongue plunged, slow and deep, parting her, dragging from the base of her slit up to the twitching bead of her clit, then circling, flicking, lashing with heat and spit and hunger. Her head fell back. She moaned.

“Ahhnn—hhnh—fuuhck…”

Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails biting through his shirt as her hips rolled into his face. He didn’t slow. One hand anchored her against his mouth, the other slid between them, two thick fingers curling up into her—first the stretch, then the thrust, then the curl and press right where her walls clenched like a vice around him.

She bucked. Cried out. Her thighs clamped around his head but he held steady, mouth locked to her cunt like a starved animal, his tongue flattening and flicking and fucking her clit while his fingers worked a ruthless rhythm inside.

“Guhhh—ahh fuckfuck—don’t stop, don’t stop, right there—yes, yes—”

He moaned into her, deep and filthy, the vibration rocking through her like a pulse. His nose ground against her mound, breath hot and wet and thick with spit, and she came hard—legs shaking, mouth open, a wail tearing from her chest as the climax broke and spilled down his wrist.

He kept licking, slow now, savoring her, dragging every last twitch from her pussy, letting her ride the aftershocks while she trembled in his lap.

She slumped forward, forehead on his shoulder, breath hitching in little gasps. His hands rubbed her back, her thighs, her sides, not patient—possessive.

“You good?” he asked, lips slick with her, voice husky.

She nodded. Her hips twitched again.

“Good,” he said, standing suddenly, holding her up by her ass, her legs locked around his waist.

“Because I’m not done,” he growled, walking them toward the bedroom like a fucking storm.