Late Night Deliveries: The After Hours

Guilty Pleasures

Lena’s POV 🌸

The apartment door clicked shut behind me just after 3:30 a.m. The sound felt impossibly loud in the silence. I stood in the dark living room for a long moment, heart still racing, legs unsteady beneath me.

Cleo was asleep on the couch, curled into a tight ball with one arm hanging off the edge. His phone lay on the floor, screen facing up. I picked it up carefully. Two missed calls. Both from me — or rather, from the sister who was supposed to be home.

Guilt twisted sharp and deep in my chest. I draped the blanket over his small shoulders and brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. He looked so young like this. Too young to be worrying about whether his sister was coming home.

I slipped into my tiny bedroom, closed the door, and leaned against it. My delivery jacket still smelled faintly of Adrian’s cologne. Between my legs, I was sore, sticky, and still faintly throbbing. Every shift of my thighs brought back flashes — Adrian’s tongue dragging slowly through my folds, the wet sounds of him devouring me, my own loud, shameless moans echoing in his penthouse.

I pressed my palms to my burning cheeks. What have I done?

I had let a stranger take my virginity against a window. I had moaned like a desperate girl while he called me his “naughty little virgin.” And the worst part was how much I had loved every second of it. My body still hummed with leftover pleasure even as shame clawed at me.

I peeled off my clothes and crawled under the covers. Sleep came in restless fragments, haunted by dark eyes, strong hands gripping my thighs, and the deep groan Adrian made when he came on my skin.

Sunlight filtered weakly through the thin curtains the next morning. Saturday. No lectures. No deliveries. Just me, my racing thoughts, and an empty apartment once Cleo left to play downstairs with the neighbor’s kids.

I sat at the edge of my bed, staring at my reflection in the cracked mirror. My lips looked slightly swollen. There were faint marks on my neck that I quickly covered with a scarf. Between my legs, the dull ache flared every time I moved.

I made coffee with shaky hands, then finally picked up my phone and called Kendra.

She answered on the third ring, voice bright and sleepy. “Babe? It’s literally ten in the morning on a Saturday. Are you dying?”

I swallowed hard. “I slept with the guy I delivered to last night at his Penthouse, his name is Adrian.” I said it like I was reading a script.

Dead silence. Then a loud squeal that made me pull the phone away from my ear.

“Wait — what?! Lena, tell me you’re joking right now!”

“I’m not.” My voice came out small. I walked to the window and stared outside, cheeks burning. “I went inside for the delivery… and I didn’t come out for hours. He kissed me and… everything just happened. Against the window. Then in his bed. He went down on me, Kendra. I’ve never… I moaned so loud I was embarrassed. I came twice. And I… I lost my virginity to him.”

Kendra let out a long breath. “Holy s**t. Are you okay? Was he gentle? Did it hurt?”

“It hurt a little at first,” I admitted, pressing my thighs together at the memory. “But then it felt too good. I couldn’t stop moaning. I sounded nothing like myself. And when I left at three in the morning… he didn’t want me to go.”

There was a pause. Kendra’s tone softened. “Babe… you’ve been carrying the world for so long. It’s okay to feel something for once. “I know,” I whispered, biting my lip. “I feel guilty as hell about Cleo. But when I’m with him… I forget everything else for a while.”

Kendra was so shocked about everything, I was too because I didn’t plan it.

“I gotta go babe, we’ll see in school.”

“Okay bye, Miss Penthouse,” she said laughing.

***

The texting started around noon.

Adrian: Did you make it home okay?

I stared at the message for nearly twenty minutes, heart fluttering, before replying.

Me: Yes. Got home safe. Cleo was asleep.

Adrian: Good. I’ve been thinking about you all morning. How does your body feel today?

My breath caught. I lay back on my bed, phone above my face.

Me: Sore. Especially when I move. It’s… a constant reminder.

Adrian: I like that. I like knowing you can still feel where I was inside you. When can I see you again, Lena?

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I squeezed a pillow between my thighs, trying to ignore the fresh wave of heat.

Later that evening, another message came.

Adrian: You’re quiet. Regretting last night?

Me: No. Not exactly. It’s just… I don’t do things like that. I have my brother. School. Bills. I can’t afford to get distracted.

Adrian: I’m not asking you to ignore your responsibilities. But you don’t have to carry them completely alone. Let me help.

Me: I can’t accept money from you.

Adrian: Then let me take you to dinner. Or just come over again. I want to taste you again. Slowly this time.

I dropped the phone on my chest, breathing faster. The memory of his mouth between my legs flashed so vividly I had to close my eyes. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long time.

Me: You’re dangerous, Adrian.

Adrian: Only if you want me to be. Sleep well, beautiful. Dream about my tongue.

By Sunday night, our messages had stretched across the entire weekend. Flirty. Serious. Tempting. I found myself checking my phone constantly, a strange mix of anxiety and excitement building every time it buzzed.

I was falling fast.

And no matter how much guilt I felt about Cleo, about my responsibilities, about how quickly everything was moving… I couldn’t bring myself to stop replying.