La Propina

I saw her the moment I walked into the party. Office party, some VP's penthouse, everyone in cheap suits and loosened ties. But there she was, in a black dress that hugged her like it knew her secrets, holding a tray of champagne flutes like she owned the room. Not the caterer's uniform, just... her. The waitress from the corner diner, the one who always gave me a wink with my coffee.

"Marcus," she said, her voice a low purr as I approached. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Rachel." I took a glass, my fingers brushing hers. "Shouldn't you be serving me pancakes?"

"Shouldn't you be at home, jerking off to my Instagram?" She tilted her head, a slow smile spreading. "You're a terrible liar. You've been staring at my ass for six months."

I choked on my champagne. "I—"

"Don't." She stepped closer, close enough I could smell her perfume, something warm and floral. "I know your order. Black coffee, two sugars, and you always leave a five-dollar tip on a three-dollar check. You're a sweetheart, Marcus. But I'm not looking for sweet."

The party hummed around us, laughter and clinking glasses. I was frozen.

"Follow me," she said, and didn't wait.

She led me down a hallway, past a bathroom, into a bedroom that smelled like expensive cologne and something else. The door clicked shut behind us, and she turned, pressing me against the wood.

"On your knees," she said.

My cock twitched. "Rachel, I—"

"Now."

I dropped. The carpet was thick, soft under my knees. She looked down at me, this goddess in black, and there was nothing playful in her eyes. Just pure, molten heat.

"Good boy," she breathed. She hiked her dress up, revealing black lace panties, already damp. "You've been thinking about this, haven't you? About what I'd taste like?"

"Yes," I managed, my voice rough.

She pulled the lace aside, and I could see her glistening, her clit swollen and pink. "Then stop thinking."

I leaned in. The taste of her hit me like a wave — salt and musk and pure woman. She gasped, her hand tangling in my hair, pulling me deeper. I licked her from bottom to top, slow, savoring, and she bucked against my mouth.

"Fuck, Marcus," she moaned, her hips grinding against my face. "Your tongue... you want to make me come, don't you?"

I answered with a flick of my tongue on her clit, and she cried out, her thighs clenching around my head. I devoured her, licking and sucking, feeling her get wetter, her body trembling.

"Enough," she said, pulling me up by the hair. "On the bed."

I went. She followed, straddling me, her dress still on, the fabric bunched around her waist. She reached down, unzipping my pants, freeing my cock. It was already rock hard, leaking.

"Is this for me?" she asked, stroking me slowly, her thumb circling the head.

"All yours," I gasped.

She positioned herself over me, and I could feel her heat, wet and ready. She sank down, inch by inch, and I groaned, my hands gripping her hips.

"Look at me," she commanded.

I did. Her eyes were dark, dilated, her lips parted. She started to ride me, slow, deliberate, each movement a punishment and a gift.

"You're mine tonight," she said, her voice steady even as her body moved. "My little toy. Say it."

"Yours," I moaned. "I'm yours."

She sped up, her hips slapping against mine, the sound wet and obscene. I could feel myself getting close, too close.

"Not yet," she growled, slowing down, teasing me to the edge. "Not until I say."

"Please," I begged.

She leaned forward, her dress slipping off one shoulder, her tits spilling out. I reached up, cupping one, my thumb brushing her nipple, and she shuddered.

"Naughty boy," she whispered. "But I like it."

She rode me harder, her head thrown back, moaning without restraint. I could see her clit rubbing against my pubic bone, and I knew she was close.

"Come with me," she panted. "Now."

We came together, a wave of pure white heat. She clenched around me, milking me, and I emptied myself inside her, my body shuddering with the force of it.

She collapsed on top of me, breathing hard, her hair a mess. I wrapped my arms around her, feeling her heart pound against mine.

"Jesus," I said, laughing breathlessly. "I'm never going to look at a stack of pancakes the same way."

She giggled, a real, girlish sound, completely at odds with the woman who'd just dominated me. "And I'm never going to serve you coffee without thinking about this."

"I'm okay with that."

She kissed me, soft, sweet. "I know you are. Now get dressed. We've got a party to crash."

"Will you be my girlfriend?" I blurted out.

She laughed, a full, genuine sound. "Ask me again in the morning."