Exposure

The hotel room smelled of stale coffee and her perfume—something floral that clung to the air long after she’d left. I was still staring at the spot where Maya had stood, the soft indent of her weight on the mattress, when my phone buzzed.

*You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?*

I looked at the screen. Maya. The model I’d been shooting all week in this godforsaken city. We’d been dancing around this—the lingering touches when I adjusted her pose, the way she held my gaze a beat too long.

*Maybe,* I typed back. *Thinking about what?*

*Don’t play dumb, Leo. You know exactly what.*

My cock stirred just reading it. I was still in my jeans from the shoot, shirt half-unbuttoned, the taste of cheap hotel whiskey on my tongue.

*Tell me.*

The dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again. Then:

*Your hands on my waist. The way you looked at me when I bent over the couch. You weren’t just looking at the shot, were you?*

I could feel the heat rising. I typed back fast.

*No. I was looking at the curve of your ass in those jeans. Wondering how they’d feel peeled down your thighs.*

She sent a photo. No warning. Just a click and there she was—Maya, sprawled on her hotel bed, dress pooled around her waist, tits bare, nipples hard. The flash from her phone catching the sheen of sweat on her skin.

*This is what you wanted, right?*

I nearly dropped the phone. My hand was already on my dick, stroking slow through the denim.

*Fuck, Maya.*

*Tell me what you’d do,* she wrote. *I want to hear it.*

I kicked off my jeans, phone in one hand, grip on my cock in the other. I was already hard, leaking at the tip.

*I’d push you back on that bed. Spread your legs wide. Bury my face between them until you can’t think straight.*

*And then?*

*Then I’d flip you over. Pull your hips up. Slide my cock inside you from behind, deep, until you feel me in your throat.*

My thumb swiped across the screen. Another photo—her hand between her legs now, fingers glistening, her lips parted in a silent moan.

*God, I’m so wet,* she wrote. *Just from your words.*

*I want to feel you. Tight and hot around me.*

*Then come here.*

I was already pulling on my jeans, phone still burning in my hand.

*Room 412.*

I didn’t bother with the elevator—took the stairs two at a time. The door swung open before I could knock. Maya stood there in nothing but a sheer robe, her hair mussed, her eyes dark.

“Took you long enough,” she breathed.

I grabbed her by the hips, pushed her against the wall, my mouth on hers, hungry. She tasted like mint and desire. Her hand found my cock through my jeans, squeezed.

“I want it,” she whispered against my lips. “I want you to fuck me hard.”

The robe fell open. Her tits pressed against my chest as I lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist. I carried her to the bed, tossed her down, her hair fanning across the pillow.

I knelt between her thighs. She was already bare, glistening, her pussy swollen and pink. I lined up, slid inside in one slow, agonizing push.

She moaned, back arching, nails digging into my shoulders.

“Yes… god, Leo.”

I started slow, then faster, each thrust driving her deeper into the mattress. Her tits bounced with the rhythm, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Harder,” she begged. “Please.”

I grabbed her hips, slammed into her, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. She cried out, her legs shaking around me.

“I’m close,” she whispered, voice breaking.

「イけ、マヤ」

She did—a shuddering, broken moan as she tightened around me, and I followed, spilling deep inside her, my own groan muffled against her throat.

For a moment, there was nothing but our breathing, tangled limbs, the sticky heat between us.

Then she smiled, lazy and satisfied.

“We still have two days of shooting left.”

I laughed, rolling onto my back.

“I’m going to need a lot more than a phone.”