The stranger at my door
Chapter one
The stranger at my door
Alice pov
It was a Monday afternoon, just past two. The house sat in that lazy, half-asleep quiet that only happens when both parents are upstairs and the rest of the world feels far away. I was stretched across the living-room couch in nothing but a pair of thin white cotton panties and one of my dad’s old oversized jackets. The jacket was soft from years of washing and hung open just enough that the heavy curve of my t**s was impossible to hide. No bra. The cool air from the slightly open window had already pulled my n*****s into tight, obvious peaks that pressed against the fabric every time I shifted.
A talk show murmured from my laptop balanced on my thighs. The television across the room played something I wasn’t really watching. My phone was in one hand, thumb scrolling without purpose. My other hand rested lazily on my bare stomach, fingers occasionally brushing the soft underside of my breast without me even noticing. I felt warm, a little restless, the kind of low-grade horniness that comes from being half-naked in an empty house with nothing better to do.
Then the knock came.
Three firm raps on the front door.
Dad’s voice floated down the stairs a second later, casual and loud.
“Alice, sweetheart, get the door for me, will you?”
I sighed, closed the laptop, and pushed myself up. The jacket slipped further open as I stood. My bare feet met the cold floor. I didn’t bother pulling the jacket closed. Whoever was on the other side of the door would get a quick look and then leave. I walked through the hallway, the soft weight of my t**s shifting with every step, n*****s still hard from the air. My panties had already started to cling a little between my legs from the earlier restlessness.
I reached the door, turned the lock, and pulled it open without thinking.
And everything inside me stopped.
He was standing there.
A complete stranger. Tall enough that I had to tip my chin up. The first thing I saw was the jawline—sharp, clean, the kind of bone structure that looked like it had been carved on purpose. His hair was cut close on the sides and left a little longer on top, the sort of cut that somehow made him look Nigerian and unfairly, devastatingly sexy. Then his eyes. Dark silver. Storm-colored. The kind of eyes that didn’t just look at you—they undressed you and already knew what you tasted like.
Those eyes locked onto mine for half a heartbeat before they dropped.
Straight to my chest.
I felt myself get wet so fast it almost hurt.
My own eyes were just as greedy. They dragged over the broadest shoulders I had ever seen up close, the way his black t-shirt stretched across them like the fabric was fighting for its life. A well-groomed chest, the faint ridges of muscle visible even through the cotton. My gaze kept traveling lower, past the flat, hard stomach, until it landed on the front of his jeans. The bulge there was thick. Heavy. Obscene. I could see the outline of it clearly, the way it rested against his thigh. My mouth watered so hard I had to swallow. That c**k looked like it was staring right back at me, daring me to get on my knees on the porch and suck it until my jaw ached.
He wasn’t subtle either. His silver eyes stayed on my t**s, watching the way the open jacket framed them, watching how my n*****s stood out hard and shameless. I knew exactly what I looked like. Full. Heavy. Soft. The kind of t**s that made men forget their own names. And right then I wanted him to see every single inch. I shifted my weight and pushed my chest forward just a little, letting the jacket fall open another inch. The cool air kissed the inner curves. My n*****s tightened even more under his stare. A fresh, hot rush of wetness soaked the crotch of my panties until the thin cotton clung to my p***y lips.
god, I wanted to open the jacket completely. I wanted to lift both t**s in my hands and offer them to him right there on the doorstep. I wanted to feel that mouth close around one n****e while his big hand squeezed the other. I wanted him to bite. I wanted him to suck until my knees gave out. The fantasy hit so hard and so filthy that my c**t throbbed in time with my heartbeat. But he was Dad’s guest. Some stranger my father had invited over for reasons I didn’t know yet. I couldn’t just shove my t**s in his face and beg him to suck them… even though every cell in my body was screaming to do exactly that.
Still, I made the decision in that exact second, clear and final.
I was going to f**k this man.
To the moon and back.
I didn’t care who he was or why he was standing on my porch. That body, those eyes, that thick c**k straining against his jeans—I needed it inside me. I needed to know what it felt like to be stretched open by something that size. I needed to hear what sounds he made when he came.
Dad’s voice suddenly cut through the thick, charged air from upstairs.
“Honey? Who’s at the door?”
Both of us jolted like we’d been caught mid-crime. His silver eyes flicked back up to mine. I cleared my throat and tried to sound normal, but my voice came out low and a little shaky.
“It’s… a guy. I don’t know who he is yet.”
I stepped aside and gestured for him to come in, forcing a polite smile that felt completely fake on my face. He moved past me. The doorway was narrow on purpose. I didn’t step back far enough. As he brushed by, the back of his hand grazed the side of my breast—right across the stiff peak of my n****e.
A tiny, helpless sound slipped out of my throat before I could stop it.
“Ahh…”
The contact lasted less than a second, but it shot straight down between my legs like a live wire. My c**t pulsed hard. My thighs clenched. I had to lock my knees so I wouldn’t sink to the floor right there in the hallway. He kept walking like nothing had happened, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. He knew. He felt exactly what he had just touched. The heat of his skin against my n****e lingered even after he was gone.
I closed the door behind him slowly, heart slamming against my ribs so hard I could hear it in my ears. My n****e was still tingling, hypersensitive, aching for more. My panties were ruined—completely soaked and sticking to me. I pressed my thighs together and tried to breathe normally while he took a seat on the couch like he already owned the place. The jacket still hung open. My t**s were still on full display. I didn’t close it.
This guy was going to be the death of me.
Why did he have to touch me like that? Even if it was only a brush. He left me standing there wet and aching and hungry, my body buzzing with need that had nowhere to go. He wasn’t going to f**k me right then and there—I knew that. He was still a stranger in my father’s house. But the damage was already done. My body had chosen. My mind had chosen.
I stared at the back of his head as he settled onto the couch, at the way those ridiculous shoulders filled out the black t-shirt, at the way he casually spread his legs like he had all the time in the world. My c**t kept throbbing in time with my pulse. I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste copper just to keep from making another sound.
You are not leaving this house today without me getting your number, I promised myself silently, the words burning hot and certain inside my head.
And before this is over, I am going to feel that mouth on my c**t.
I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t care what I have to do.
I am going to have you.
I walked back toward the living room on slightly unsteady legs, the oversized jacket still hanging open, my n*****s still shamelessly hard, the wet spot on my panties growing with every step. Dad’s footsteps started coming down the stairs. Reality was about to crash back in. Introductions would be made. Names would be exchanged. Whatever reason this beautiful, dangerous stranger had for being here would come out into the open.
But none of that mattered yet.
All that mattered was the way my body was still humming from one accidental touch… and the filthy, unshakable promise I had just made to myself while standing in my own hallway with my father’s guest watching me from the couch.
I would f**k him.
One way or another.
And I already knew I would never be able to look at another man the same way again.
