100 NIGHTS OF SIN

##Night 2##

**Her POV**

Tonight is the second night I’m f****d against a floor-to-ceiling window in Tokyo, t**s pressed to cold glass while the city watches.

The door hasn’t even finished closing when his hands are on me.

“Strip. Now,” he snaps in accented English, voice rough like gravel. “Everything off except the heels.”

I peel the black dress down my body, let it pool at my feet. No bra. No panties. Just me, naked, n*****s already hard from the air-conditioning and the view forty-seven floors above Shibuya Crossing.

He steps close, palms my t**s hard, pinches both n*****s until I gasp.

“Look out there,” he growls against my ear. “Millions of people. Any one of them could look up and see what a filthy exhibitionist slut you are.”

He spins me, shoves me chest-first into the glass. The cold shocks my n*****s into aching points.

“Hands on the window. Ass out. Spread.”

I obey instantly, palms slapping the glass, legs wide, p***y already slick and shining under the city glow.

He kicks my feet even wider.

“Tell me what you wrote on the app again,” he says, unzipping behind me.

“I said… ‘f**k me against the window so hard the whole city knows I’m your w***e tonight.’”

“That’s right.” I hear the crinkle of a condom. “And I flew three hours for this p***y. Better make it worth it.”

He drags the head of his c**k through my folds, once, twice, coating himself.

“Already dripping,” he mutters. “Such a needy little cunt.”

“Please,” I whimper, pushing back. “Please f**k me where they can all see.”

He slams in to the hilt in one thrust.

I scream, the sound echoing off the glass.

“Shut up and take it,” he snarls, pulling back and pounding in again. “Let them hear you too.”

His hips slap against my ass, loud and obscene, c**k stretching me wide, hitting so deep my toes curl in the stilettos.

“Look down,” he orders, fisting my hair and forcing my head forward. “Look at all those people. Any one of them could be filming right now.”

I stare at the river of umbrellas and neon, thousands of strangers who might be watching me get railed like a cheap w***e.

“Tell me how it feels,” he grunts, never slowing.

“Like I’m on display,” I moan. “Like the whole f*****g city is watching you split my p***y open.”

He laughs, dark and filthy, and speeds up.

“That’s exactly what’s happening, slut. You’re tonight’s free show.”

He reaches around, finds my c**t, rubs brutal circles.

“Don’t you dare come yet. You come when I say, not before.”

I sob, thighs shaking, p***y clenching around his c**k.

“Please… I can’t—”

“You can and you will.” He slaps my c**t hard. “Hold it.”

He f***s me harder, the glass fogging around my t**s, my n*****s dragging with every thrust.

“Tell them,” he growls. “Tell the city what you are.”

“I’m a slut!” I scream at the window. “I’m a dirty f*****g w***e getting railed in front of Tokyo! Watch me get f****d!”

He groans, hips stuttering.

“Again.”

“Watch me take this c**k! Watch him use my p***y like a toy!”

My voice cracks, legs trembling so hard I almost collapse.

“Now,” he snarls, pinching my c**t. “Come all over my c**k right now, let them see you break.”

I explode, screaming loud enough for the street below to hear, p***y gushing around him, squirting down my thighs onto the marble floor.

“f**k yes,” he hisses, riding me through it. “Soak the f*****g window.”

He doesn’t stop. He pulls out, spins me, lifts me by the thighs and slams me back against the glass, my back to the city now.

“Wrap your legs around me.”

I do, heels digging into his back as he shoves back inside.

“Look at me,” he demands. “Eyes on me while I wreck this cunt.”

I lock eyes with him—dark, ruthless, gorgeous—and he starts pounding again, my body pinned between cold glass and hot c**k.

“Tell me how many people are watching.”

“Hundreds,” I pant. “Thousands—oh god—phones up, filming—”

“Let them film,” he snarls. “Let the whole internet see what a perfect little exhibitionist w***e looks like when she’s getting destroyed.”

He shifts angle, hits my g-spot dead-on, and I scream again.

“Second one,” he says. “Give it to me. Come again while the city watches.”

I do—harder than the first, tears streaming, mascara ruined, p***y clamping so tight he has to fight to keep moving.

“That’s it,” he groans. “Milk my c**k, slut. Milk it dry.”

He slams deep one last time and comes with a guttural roar, c**k pulsing inside the condom, hips jerking against mine.

We stay there, panting, stuck to the glass, city lights blinking below us.

He lowers me slowly, pulls out, ties off the condom, drops it on the floor like trash.

“Stay there,” he orders.

I do, legs shaking, c*m and squirt dripping down my thighs, t**s streaked with fog from my own breath.

He steps back, admires the view—me, wrecked, displayed against Tokyo’s skyline.

“Perfect,” he says, zipping up. “The city got its show.”

He walks to the door, pauses.

“Leave the curtains open when you shower. Maybe someone’s still watching.”

The door clicks shut.

I slide down the glass until I’m sitting in my own mess, heart pounding, p***y still fluttering.

Night two.

Tokyo now owns a piece of me.

And I’m already wet for night three.