Let him walk in on you
From Create Your Own Story
The door creaked open slowly, revealing Hank's broad frame filling the doorway. His calloused hands clutched a dented brown package marked "FRAGILE" in red letters. "Got a, uh... big delivery for you," he rumbled, voice catching mid-sentence when his gaze dropped to the scene before him.
You arched your back deliberately, letting you shirt ride up exposing you stomach and hips along with the rest of you . The afternoon sunlight streaming through the blinds painted stripes across your exposed erection, already glistening at the tip. "Perfect timing," you purred, fingers trailing down your abdomen. "I've been dying for a delivery."
Hank's thick fingers dented the cardboard as his Adam's apple bobbed. A flush spread from his ruddy cheeks down his thick neck, disappearing beneath the sweat-damp collar of his uniform. "Christ, kid," he muttered, kicking the door shut with his work boot. The box hit the floor with a thud as he stalked toward the bed, his shadow swallowing you whole.
When his calloused palm cradled the back of your skull, you smelled diesel and spearmint gum. His beard scraped your chin as his tongue plundered your mouth—no tentative exploration, just claiming. Your fingers twisted in his shirt, feeling the damp heat of his body through the fabric as you fumbled for his belt.
