Chapter 4: Hotel Room 608
810 Words
Three days.
That’s how long I kept checking my phone, waiting for another message from that anonymous number. But nothing came.
No new threats.
No photos.
Just silence.
I didn’t know if that was better or worse.
But the moment I saw Ninong’s name on my screen again, the fear in my chest turned into heat in my stomach.
Ninong Ramon 💬:
“I need to see you. Tonight. Room 608. Don’t be late.”
My fingers shook as I typed back.
Me 💬:
“You’re not the boss of me.”
Ninong Ramon 💬:
“I’ll make you say otherwise when I’m inside you.”
My thighs clenched.
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The hotel hallway felt colder than usual. Or maybe it was just the nerves.
I reached Room 608 and knocked twice. The door opened instantly.
He pulled me inside without a word and locked the door behind us.
“You look edible,” he said, voice low and rough.
I was wearing a short black dress. No bra. No panties. Just the way he liked it.
I turned slowly. “So eat me.”
His eyes darkened.
In one quick move, he grabbed my face and kissed me—hot, rough, and deep. His hands slid down my back, under my dress, gripping my ass tight.
“Spread your legs.”
I did.
He fell to his knees, lifted my dress, and buried his face between my thighs.
“Oh fuçk—” I gasped, grabbing his hair.
His tongue flicked my clït fast, then slow, then fast again. He moaned into me like he couldn’t get enough, sucking me hard while his fingers slipped inside.
“You taste even better tonight,” he whispered, licking up every drop. “Did you miss this tongue, baby?”
“Yes,” I breathed. “I cüm thinking about it.”
He pulled away and looked up at me with wild eyes.
“Get on the bed. Face down. Ass up.”
I obeyed, trembling.
He stood, pulled his shirt off, then his pants. His c**k slapped against his abs already hard, thick, leaking.
He climbed on the bed behind me, spreading my cheeks with one hand, the tip of his dïck rubbing against my entrance.
“You want this?”
“Yes. Fuçk me, Ninong. Please.”
He pushed in slowly. Inch by inch until he bottomed out.
We both groaned loud.
“You’re so tight, baby. Fuçk.”
He started moving. Slow, deep thrusts. I gripped the sheets and moaned into the mattress.
“You love being used like this?” he said, thrusting harder.
“Yes. Use me. I’m yours.”
“Say it louder.”
“I’m yours,” I moaned. “Only yours.”
His hand tangled in my hair and pulled my head back.
“This püssy belongs to me. No one else gets to touch it.”
“No one,” I gasped. “Only you.”
He slammed into me harder, faster, both of us getting louder with every thrust. The bed creaked, the headboard hit the wall, and I could feel him getting closer.
“I’m gonna çum,” he growled.
“Inside,” I begged. “Fill me up.”
And he did.
Hot, deep, and thick. I could feel his çum dripping out of me before he even pulled out.
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We collapsed onto the bed, tangled together, soaked in sweat and pleasure.
“I missed you,” I whispered, my head on his chest.
He ran his fingers through my hair.
“Something’s not right, baby.”
I looked up. “What do you mean?”
He reached for his phone and showed me a photo.
It was a screenshot.
Me. On top of him. In the car. Riding him.
Clear. Focused. No filters. No blur.
“You didn’t send this to me?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. I swear.”
He zoomed in.
The photo came from a different angle. Outside the car.
“I think someone’s been following us.”
My chest tightened. “Oh my God…”
He sat up, started pacing. “We need to be more careful. This isn’t just sneaky s*x anymore. This is blackmail shït.”
“What do we do?”
“I’ll handle it.”
“But who could it be?”
“I don’t know yet. But I’m gonna find out.”
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We checked out separately. I went first.
I kept my head down as I walked through the lobby, but something made me look up.
There. Sitting by the glass wall café.
That girl again.
Short hair. Fair skin. Eyes locked on me.
She was holding a drink. And her phone.
The second our eyes met, she smiled.
Then she lifted her phone and snapped a photo.
No flash. Just a smug little smirk.
- Writer
