Walk Alex back to her car.

The lot is nearly empty when you walk her out, the hum of the bar fading behind you, replaced by the faint buzz of a flickering streetlamp and the distant hum of traffic.

Alex’s car waits at the far edge of campus, tucked under one of the few working lights. She walks ahead a step or two, heels clicking softly on the pavement, the kind of walk that knows it’s being watched. And you are watching.

She slows as she reaches her car, one hand on the door handle, then turns to face you.

That grin.

It’s sly, sharp, a little cruel in the way only someone who knows exactly what they’re doing can pull off.

You don’t even bother with words.

You step in. She rises to meet you, and your mouths crash together. All teeth and heat and pent‑up want. Her fingers hook into your collar, dragging you closer, and you find her hips with both hands, pulling her flush against you. She tastes like whiskey and sex, and you’d gladly drown in both.

She breaks the kiss just long enough to suck in a breath, then kisses you again, deeper this time. Your hand slides lower, gripping the curve of her ass, earning you a sharp inhale that makes you want to keep pushing, keep seeing what other sounds you can pull out of her.

She pulls back just enough to speak, lips still brushing yours. “You’re hard.”

You grin against her mouth. “Observant.”

She laughs. Soft, knowing, and rests her forehead against yours. “Go home, Ryan.”

You blink, dazed. “What?”

“Go home.” Her voice is quieter now, but no less firm. “Check in with Mariana. Before we go any further.”

That cuts through the haze. Not like a cold shower, but enough to remind you she’s dead serious.

You consider pushing. You want to. Every part of you is screaming to keep going.

But you don’t.

You let out a low, frustrated laugh instead, stepping back just far enough to get some air between you. “You suck.”

She smirks, completely unbothered, like she’s holding every card in the deck. “Not tonight.”

That lands like a tease and a promise all at once.

She brushes your arm as she slides into the driver’s seat, giving you one last look over the top of the door — the kind of look that would keep you awake later at night.

“Goodnight, Ryan.”

The door shuts, her taillights flare red, and you’re left in the lot, still hard, still buzzing, wondering if you’re going to survive whatever game she’s playing.

It doesn't take long for you to get home.

Mariana’s at the entryway like she’s been waiting, barefoot, oversized shirt hanging off one shoulder.

You don’t bother with pleasantries as the lock clicks behind you. You’ve been half-hard since the parking lot and whatever self-control you had is gone the second you see her.

“You are home early,” she says softly.

“Yeah,” you say, voice rough. “Date ended early.”

Her gaze flicks to your face, searching, but she doesn’t ask.

Instead, you close the space between you, take her jaw in your hand, and kiss her hard enough to bruise. She gasps into your mouth, startled, but melts almost instantly.

When you pull back, you keep your grip on her jaw, thumb pressing against her bottom lip until she parts for you.

“Open,” you say.

She does.

You take yourself out, guiding her to her knees with a hand in her hair, and slide into her mouth in one steady push. Her lips seal around you instinctively, and your head tips back with a low groan.

It’s immediate. The heat of her. The wetness. The way her throat works to take you deeper.

You start slow, savoring the way she adjusts to your size, the tight pull of her lips as she sinks down further.

You rest your hand on the back of her head. “We’re gonna talk about my date,” you murmur, thrusting shallowly. “And you’re gonna listen. Understand?”

She hums around you. You feel it more than hear it.

You start slow, savoring the way she adjusts to your size, the tight pull of her lips as she sinks down further.

“She wanted details,” you murmur, fingers curling into her hair. “Wanted to know why.”

You push deeper, until you feel the back of her throat. Hold her there. Let her **** softly around you.

“She wondered if it’s because you let me own you. Because you take everything I pour into you.”

Mariana makes a broken sound around you, and the vibration travels up your spine.

“I told her yes.”

You pull back, watching her spit-slick lips stretch around you as you drag out of her mouth, then push back in.

“She liked that,” you say. “Liked the idea of me having someone obedient waiting at home. Someone who lets me use her however I want.”

Her fingers flex against your thighs, not pushing away, just grounding herself as you fuck her mouth.

“She asked if you enjoy it. If you like being mine.”

You slow your rhythm just enough to give her a chance to breathe. “Do you?”

Her wide, wet eyes meet yours, and she nods, tiny and ****.

“Good girl.”

You keep going, deeper this time, your hips meeting her face with each thrust. Her nose brushes your stomach, her throat convulsing as she gags softly, but she doesn’t pull away.

“She asked me what else I make you do.”

You groan low, letting your words match the pace of your hips. “If I make you beg. If I make you take it until you cry.”

Mariana lets out another muffled sound, strangled and wet, and her nails dig deeper into your legs.

“I told her I don’t make you do anything.” You hold her head in place and grind slowly against her throat, letting her feel every inch of you. “I told her you do it because you need it. Because you like being used.”

You pull her back just enough for her to catch a breath, watching a thin string of spit connect her mouth to your cock.

“She asked if you’re good at it.”

You smile down at her, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. “I told her you’re perfect.”

You push back in, steady and relentless. Her throat tightens around you, gagging lightly, but she doesn’t fight it.

“She said she wanted to see it. See me use you like this. Wanted to watch.”

That gets her. A flash of something hot and unreadable in her eyes.

“She even said she might want to join in.”

You feel her body tense. Then relax. Then tense again.

Your thrusts grow harder, sharper, syncing with the rhythm of your words.

“She asked me if I’d let her.”

You hold her down for a beat, feeling her throat strain to take you, then pull back just far enough to look her in the eye.

“Would I, Mariana? Would I let her watch?”

Her only answer is another choked hum around you, dragging you deeper like she’s begging for it.

You stroke her hair with one hand, almost tender, as you set a brutal pace with your hips.

“She wanted to know. What you look like when you’re **** on me. What sounds you make. How you fall apart when I tell you you’re mine.”

You keep her there, on her knees, on your cock, for every word.

And Mariana takes it.

All of it.

“I told her yes,” you say, breath hitching as you use Mariana’s throat. “Told her you love it when I’m rough. Told her you take it like this, on your knees, until you can’t breathe.”

Your hips snap harder, unrelenting now.

“She wanted to know if I’d let her help. If I’d let her put her mouth on me too while you watch.”

Mariana whimpers, and the sound is lost around you.

“Would you like that, Mariana?”

She moans around your cock, nails digging crescents into your thighs.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Thought so.”

You keep her there, kneeling, obedient, throat raw and wet and perfect for you, until you’ve told her every word Alex said. Until the only thing in the room is your voice, her choked noises, and the wet, obscene sound of you using her mouth.

Your thighs are damp from the mess you’ve made of her face. Her hair’s stuck to her cheeks, her bare skin glistening from the drool cascading down her chest.

You push her down to the base, both hands in her hair now, holding her there. Her throat spasms helplessly around you, tears spilling from the corners of her eyes.

“This is how she’d see you,” you murmur, breath coming hard now. “On your knees, taking all of me. Letting me use you while I tell her every single thing I like about her. You wouldn’t stop me, would you?”

She shakes her head as much as she can with you buried in her throat.

“Didn’t think so.”

You let yourself go. Short, punishing thrusts, holding her there just long enough for her lungs to burn before pulling back to let her gasp. You watch her chest heave, her lips shining with spit, her eyes glassy and ruined and fixed on you like you’re the only thing that matters.

That look is what tips you over.

“Stay,” you growl, and she freezes perfectly still, hands resting on your thighs, trusting you completely.

You finish deep in her throat, holding her there while her throat convulses around you trying to take it all.

You don’t let go until you feel the last of it leave you.

When you pull back, she’s shaking, coughing softly, a string of spit and come trailing from her mouth to your cock.

You crouch down in front of her, thumb brushing over her swollen lips.

“Swallow,” you say.

She does, instantly.

“Good girl.”

You take her face in both hands, press your forehead to hers. Let her breathe. Let yourself breathe.

After a moment, you stand, tugging her gently up with you.

“Come on,” you murmur. “Shower.”

She doesn’t argue, doesn’t say anything. Just lets you guide her into the bathroom.

You stand behind her under the water, washing her hair with slow, deliberate motions, working the soap through each strand while she leans back against you. You rinse her clean, wrap her in a towel, dry her like she’s something fragile that belongs to you.

You don’t take her to the bed so much as put her there, laying her out on fresh sheets. She’s quiet, pliant, eyes closed, like she’s still somewhere in that headspace you put her in.

You climb in beside her, pull her into you, and she buries her face in your chest without a word.

For a long time, there’s nothing but the sound of her breathing against you, her fingers curled loosely against your ribs.

You rest your chin on her hair.

“Mine,” you murmur into the quiet.

You feel her nod against you.

And that’s enough.