One day, he decided to treat me like royalty.
He pulled up outside in a sleek black limousine, the kind that made heads turn. As I stepped inside, I was greeted not just by the cool hush of luxury leather seats, but by the glint of crystal glasses and a fully serviced bar. Red roses waited for me on the seat, their scent mingling with the soft hum of music in the background.
He knew I had a weakness for Long Island iced tea. One was already poured and waiting for me, chilled and garnished with a slice of lemon. I took a sip—sweet, strong, intoxicating—and let the tension of a long, difficult day begin to melt away. I figured out that it was spiked.
As the limousine cruised through the glowing city streets, we talked, we laughed, and then… we kissed. Slowly at first, as though rediscovering each other. Then, more hungrily, like two people who’d been waiting far too long. Time became fluid, marked only by the rhythm of our breath, the heat of his hands, and the feel of my dress slipping under his touch.
At some point, I realized we weren’t entirely alone. A quiet figure sat at the front of the limousine, our driver, ever discreet. But there was something about his silent presence that made my heart pound harder. The awareness added a thrill I hadn’t expected. I became suddenly conscious of my sheer, cowl-neck dress clinging to my body, my flushed skin, my erect nipples, my missing bra, and my racing pulse. I touched myself to find out if my gstring was still there. I was drenching wet by now. His lips brushed my ear. “This night is just beginning,” he whispered.
Before I knew it, we had arrived.
The resort was perched by the sea, a private cottage nestled between the lush green of a golf course and the shimmering blue horizon. As we stepped inside, he turned to me, and in a single movement, swept me up in his arms. The door closed behind us, sealing us into our own world of shadow and candlelight.
There was no time for words.
He pressed me against the wall, his hands exploring the curve of my waist, the line of my thigh. My dress lifted easily under his fingers. I could feel the heat of his breath right on my pussy lips, the weight of his desire, and the way he held back just enough to drive me wild with anticipation.
We didn’t rush. He took his time. Every kiss was a promise. Every touch was a question. He explored me like a man discovering something precious, unraveling me one soft moan, one gasp at a time.
And just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, he pulled away slightly and looked into my eyes.
“Don’t fall apart just yet,” he murmured with a crooked smile. “The night is still young.”
