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He pulls me off before he comes. His dick is dark and shining and slapping wet against his stomach.

“I can’t think,” he says. “I keep seeing those names and yet I still want your mouth.”

“Then stop thinking for an hour. That is what you gave me.”

I stand and pull him up and kiss him so he tastes himself. Then I turn him toward the bed.

“On your stomach. Ass up. I have wanted my tongue in you since I first watched you bend over a bench.”

He hesitates. I put my hand on the back of his neck, not hard, just there.

“You can say no.”

He does not say no. He gets on the bed on his stomach and pulls his knees under him. That ass I have watched leave rooms in expensive trousers is in my face, and I spread him with both thumbs and spit on him.

“Fuck,” he says into the sheet.

I lick him. Slow first, the flat of my tongue over the hole, then pointed, pushing in. He makes a sound he would never make in that tower. I eat him like I have been starving all day. I have. I have been starving for this man for too long. I get my tongue inside him and work him open with it, wet, filthy, my chin slick, and I reach under and find his cock leaking onto the white bed.

“You taste like you have been waiting for this,” I say against him. “You have, haven’t you? Don’t lie.”

“I am not lying. Just … fuck. Do not stop,” he rasps.

I do not stop. I add a finger with the spit and the wet from my mouth. Then two. I stretch him open slow, curling, finding the place that makes his back arch.

“Fuck, you’re tight. You are going to take my dick and you are going to ask for it, but not yet. I want you open first.”

“Cruz.”

“Louder.”

“Cruz. Please.” His breath catches.

I kiss his lower back, just above his ass, and keep fingering him until he is pushing back on my hand like he can’t help it. Then I pull out and slap his ass once, open palm, not to hurt, just to hear it.

“On your back. I want to see your face when I fuck you.”

He rolls over. His mouth is wet. His eyes are dark. I get a condom from my own things, the ones I brought because I was hoping this night would end this way, and I roll it on. He watches that too, and he nods once.

I hook his thigh up and set the head of my cock against him.

“Look at me,” I tell him.

His eyes lock with mine.

I push in, slow.

It is slow because he is tight even after my fingers, and I want him to feel every inch of my flesh. His mouth falls open and his hand finds my arm and holds it. I sink until my hips are flush and I stay there, buried, and let him take it.

“Breathe.”

“I am. Fuck. You are in me, and you’re huge. God, so fucking big,” he says.

“I am in you. Say who. Say who is in you.”

“Cruz. You are in me.”

I fuck him. First in long strokes so he can feel me drag out and fill him again. Then harder. The bed moves. His dick slaps his stomach between us and I wrap my hand around it and stroke him in time. He curses and I swear back at him. I tell him he feels like he was built for this. I tell him I have wanted to wreck this ass since the first time he let me stand behind him in that gym. I tell him he is mine for this hour and he can hate everything in the morning.