Rooftop Heels

"I swear to God, if these heels break, I'm jumping."

Maya laughed into the wind, steadying herself against the low concrete ledge. The city sprawled beneath us, a glittering mess of neon and headlights. She'd kicked off her sandals halfway up the fire escape, but the red stilettos stayed on—strappy, ridiculous, six inches of fuck-me energy that had caught my eye at the bar downstairs.

"You're not jumping," I said, leaning against the rusted AC unit. "You're too stubborn."

"Stubborn?" She turned, and the city lights caught the curve of her throat. "That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me all night."

"What did they say before?"

"That I was a bitch for wearing these." She lifted one foot, wiggling the heel. "A guy said I was asking for it. Can you believe that?"

"I believe you're asking for something."

Her smile sharpened. The air between us went electric, humming with the traffic below, the distant bass of a club three blocks over. She took two steps toward me, heels clicking on the gravel like a countdown.

"And what's that?"

I reached out, fingers brushing the strap around her ankle. Warm skin, smooth. She didn't pull away.

"Your hands are shaking," she whispered.

"I'm nervous."

"You?" She laughed, low and dirty. "You've got that whole 'I don't give a fuck' thing going. Leather jacket, three-day stubble."

"Takes one to know one."

She stepped closer. I could smell her—sweat and something floral, a hint of gin. Her hand found my chest, nails dragging down the zipper of my jacket.

"I don't even know your name," I said.

"Good. Keep it that way."

She kissed me. Hard. Her teeth caught my bottom lip, and I groaned into her mouth, pulling her hips against mine. Her dress was short, black, and my hand found the bare skin of her thigh, sliding up.

"Fuck," she breathed, breaking away just enough to talk. "I've been thinking about this since you looked at me over your whiskey."

"You could've just said hi."

"Where's the fun in that?"

I pushed her back against the wall. The brick was rough, but she didn't complain—she arched into me, her leg wrapping around my waist, the heel of her stiletto digging into my ass. I hissed.

"Careful with those."

«Oblígame.»

I grabbed her thigh, lifted her higher. She was wet already—I could feel it through her panties, a damp heat against my fingers. I slid them aside, and she gasped when I touched her bare pussy.

"Jesus, Maya."

"Just touch me."

I did. Two fingers, sliding through her slick folds, finding her clit. She bucked against my hand, a sharp little moan caught in her throat.

"More," she demanded. "Fuck me with your fingers."

I pushed inside her. Tight, hot, soaked. She whimpered, her nails biting into my shoulders through the jacket.

"Yes, like that—don't stop—"

I worked her fast, thumb circling her clit while my fingers curled inside her. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her head thrown back against the brick.

"I'm close," she panted. "Don't you fucking stop—"

Her whole body tensed, a shudder running through her, and she came with a broken cry, clenching around my fingers. I held her through it, watching her face twist in pleasure against the city lights.

Before she could catch her breath, I dropped to my knees. The gravel bit into my shins, but I didn't care. I lifted her leg, hooking it over my shoulder, the stiletto heel brushing my back. Her dress bunched around her hips, and I buried my face between her thighs.

"Holy shit—" her voice cracked.

I licked her, slow and deliberate, tasting her come. She was sensitive, twitching, but she grabbed my hair and pulled me harder against her.

"Don't be gentle," she ordered.

I wasn't. I ate her like I was starving, tongue flat and rough, then pointed and flicking her clit until she was shaking again. Her fingers twisted in my hair, her thighs trembling around my head.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna—"

She came again, harder this time, with a guttural moan that echoed off the rooftop. I didn't stop until she pushed me away, breathless.

"Your turn," she said, stepping back on shaky heels.

She turned around, bending over the ledge, looking back at me over her shoulder. The city spread out below her, all those lights, and she was the hottest thing in it.

"Come on," she said. "Fuck me from behind. Hard."

I stood, unbuckling my belt. My cock was aching, leaking. I kicked my jeans down just enough, then stepped up behind her, grabbing her hips.

"Ready?"

"Just do it."

I slammed into her. She cried out, bracing against the ledge, and I didn't slow down. Her pussy gripped me, wet and tight, and I fucked her like she asked—hard, deep, the sound of our bodies slapping together lost in the wind.

"Yes—right there—don't stop—"

I reached around, finding her clit again, and she moaned into her arm. Her heels kept slipping on the gravel, and I wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her steady.

"I'm gonna come," she gasped. "Please—"

"Come on, then. Come on my cock."

She did. I felt her convulse around me, a shuddering, clenching wave, and that pushed me over. I came inside her with a guttural groan, burying myself as deep as I could, my forehead against her shoulder blade.

For a moment, there was nothing but our breathing, the distant hum of the city.

She turned, slowly, and kissed me. Soft. Tender. Different.

"I should probably get my sandals," she whispered.

"Or you could stay."

She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"What's your name, anyway?"

"Alex."

"Alex," she repeated, like she was tasting it. "Okay, Alex. You've got two hours before I have to be somewhere."

"That's plenty of time."

"Show me."