Rooftop Burn

The city lights blurred below us, a thousand tiny stars reflected in the glass towers, but I couldn’t look at them. Not when Valeria was standing this close. She smelled like jasmine and sweat from our session, still in her sports bra and those tiny shorts that showed off every curve she’d earned through months of work. My work. Her body was my fucking masterpiece.

“I’m not done with you yet,” she said, voice low, a challenge in her dark eyes. She pushed a damp strand of hair from her face. “That last set of squats… I felt something.”

“Felt what?” My throat was dry.

“You know what, Marco.” She stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off her skin. “When your hands adjusted my hips… when you told me to go deeper…”

“Valeria…”

“Don’t.” She put a finger on my lips. “Don’t tell me this isn’t happening. I’ve been watching you for three months. The way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.”

My hands were on her waist before I could think. Her skin was slick, warm, and she let out this tiny gasp that went straight to my cock. “This is so fucking unprofessional,” I muttered, but I was already pulling her against me.

“I don’t care.” She tilted her chin up. “I want you to fuck me right here, overlooking the whole goddamn city.”

I kissed her hard, no gentleness, just hunger. Her mouth opened under mine, her tongue sliding against mine, tasting of salt and something sweet. My hands slid down, gripping her ass through those thin shorts. She was so fucking firm, so tight. She moaned into my mouth and bit my lower lip.

“Take these off,” she breathed, tugging at my sweatpants.

I kicked them off, my cock already straining against my boxers. She dropped to her knees on the rooftop tiles, not giving a shit about the rough surface, and pulled my boxers down. Her hand wrapped around my shaft, and she looked up at me with those big brown eyes.

“You’re so hard for me,” she whispered.

“Always am, after I watch you move.”

She took me in her mouth, and I had to grip the railing behind me to stay upright. Her tongue was hot and wet, swirling around the head before she took me deeper, inch by inch, her hand working the base. The sounds she made, wet and hungry, echoed in the night air. I watched her head bob, her dark hair falling over her face, and I was losing my mind.

“Stop,” I gasped, pulling her up. “I want to be inside you.”

She turned around and bent over the railing, looking back at me over her shoulder, her ass perfect in the moonlight. “Then do it.”

I pulled her shorts and panties down in one rough motion. Her pussy was already glistening, swollen and ready. I ran two fingers through her wetness, and she moaned, pushing back against my hand.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.”

“That’s what you do to me.”

I lined myself up and pushed in, slow at first, just the head. She was so tight, so hot, gripping me like a fist. She let out a long, shuddering sigh.

“More,” she begged. “Give me all of it.”

I drove into her, burying myself to the hilt. She cried out, a sharp, broken sound, and I had to pause to catch my breath. Her pussy was clenching around me, pulsing.

“You feel… fuck, Valeria, you feel incredible.”

“Don’t stop. Please.”

I started moving, slow and deep, watching my cock slide in and out of her. Her ass was pressed against my hips, and I gripped her waist, my fingers digging into her skin. The city was spread out below us, cars honking, people living their lives, and here I was, buried inside my client on a rooftop.

“Harder,” she gasped. “I can take it.”

I gave it to her harder, pounding into her, the sound of our bodies slapping together loud in the quiet night. Her tits bounced under her sports bra, and I reached around, pulling the fabric down, freeing them. They were full and perfect, her nipples hard against my palm.

“Yes, touch me,” she moaned.

I pinched her nipple, rolling it between my fingers, and she bucked back against me, her rhythm getting sloppy.

“I’m close,” she breathed. “Don’t stop, Marco, don’t fucking stop.”

I reached down, my fingers finding her clit, slick and swollen. I pressed and circled, and she started trembling, her whole body shaking.

“Come for me,” I growled in her ear. “Let me feel you.”

She came with a scream, her pussy milking my cock, waves of heat washing over me. I kept thrusting through her orgasm, chasing my own, and when she finally went limp against the railing, I pulled out and turned her around.

“Open your mouth,” I said.

She dropped to her knees again, looking up at me, her lips parted. I stroked myself twice, three times, and then I was coming, hot ropes of cum hitting her tongue, her lips, her cheek. She kept her mouth open, taking it all, and when I was done, she licked her lips and smiled.

“Now that’s a proper cool-down.”

I laughed, pulling her up, wrapping my arms around her. She was shaking, but smiling, her face a mess of cum and sweat.

“We’re going to have to do this again,” I said against her hair.

“Every session,” she whispered. “From now on.”

We stood there, naked and cooling in the night breeze, the city glittering below us, and I knew I was never going to look at a squat the same way again.