The taste of the exotic womanis still on my tongue when I splash water over my face. I don’t even bother wiping the smear of lipstick she left on my jaw. Let the next one see it. Let him know I’m warmed up.
The knock comes sooner than I expect. No pause. No courtesy. Just the door swinging open and a man stepping in like he owns the air.
He’s not polished. Not smooth. Black jeans, leather jacket, tattoos crawling up his throat. Eyes sharp, mean, and hungry. The kind of man who doesn’t need an introduction because his presence says it all.
“You,” he growls, pointing at me. “Clothes off. Now.”
I laugh, half from nerves, half from excitement. “Not even a hello?”
“Shut up and strip.”
So I do. My dress puddles at my feet, panties tossed aside, n*****s already tight under his stare. He doe
