Footsteps

"You've been running this whole show all night," I say, leaning forward, my palms sliding up his chest until my lips brush against his ear. "Recording me. Pulling the plug out. Fucking my throat on camera. You had all the control."

I sit back up, meeting his eyes, and I let my smile go sharp and hungry.

"Now I'm on top. And I'm going to ride you until you can't remember your own name. Then I'm going to make you watch me walk back into that bedroom with Joe and pretend none of this ever happened."

I feel him shift beneath me as I roll my hips, slow and deliberate, riding him at this new angle. The muscular guy's hands are tight on my waist, his jaw slack, his eyes blown wide. He's watching me like I'm something he's been dreaming about, and I let him.

Then I hear footsteps.

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