Skyline and Salt

The rooftop bar was my kingdom, a glittering cage of glass and steel above the city's hum. I was wiping down the same spot on the counter for the third time when she slid onto a stool, all sun-kissed skin and a white sundress that did absolutely nothing to hide the curve of her hips. Her name was Lena, and she’d been watching me for an hour.

"You're staring," I said, not looking up from the glass.

"I'm appreciating the view." Her voice was low, a little rough, like she’d been laughing all day. "Best one up here."

I finally met her eyes. They were the color of the ocean at dusk, and they held a challenge. "You want another drink, or are you just here to flatter me?"

"I want to see if the bartender is as good as the view." She leaned forward, and the neckline of her dress dipped. I’m Marco, by the way."

Marco. The name felt like a promise on my tongue. I poured her a Negroni, heavy on the gin. She took a sip, her lips leaving a faint mark on the glass, and didn't break eye contact.

The city buzzed below us, a thousand lives playing out in a symphony of distant sirens and car horns. Up here, it was just the two of us, the whisper of a breeze, and the clinking of ice. She finished her drink, set the glass down, and reached across the counter, her fingers brushing my wrist.

"The staff room," she said, her thumb tracing a slow circle on my skin. "Or the maintenance shed. Somewhere with a lock."

My cock was already straining against my jeans. I nodded, my throat dry. I led her past the kegs and the stacked crates, into the tiny, dark room that smelled of bleach and old cardboard. She pushed me against the wall, her body pressing into mine.

"Been thinking about this since you poured my first beer," she whispered, her lips on my neck.

I grabbed her ass, bunching the thin cotton of her dress in my fists. It was warm, firm, and she ground her hips against my hardened dick. "Yeah? What were you thinking?"

"That I wanted you to fuck me against a wall." She bit my earlobe, hard enough to make me gasp. "Right here, while the whole city is down there, not knowing."

I spun her around, pressing her chest against the cold metal of a shelf. She moaned, arching her back, pushing that perfect ass out. I hiked her dress up, revealing the white lace of her panties, already damp. I didn't bother taking them off, just pulled them aside. Her pussy was slick, hot, and I ran a finger through her wetness, making her shudder.

"God, Marco," she breathed. "Just do it."

I unzipped my jeans, my cock springing free, heavy and aching. I teased her, rubbing the head against her clit, feeling her tremble. She pushed back, trying to take me inside.

"Please," she begged, her voice cracking.

I slammed into her. She cried out, a sharp, choked sound, and I clamped my hand over her mouth. "Quiet," I growled in her ear. "Someone might hear."

She nodded, her eyes wide and dark. I started to move, slow and deep, feeling every inch of her tight, wet heat. The room was silent except for the wet, rhythmic sound of our bodies meeting, the slap of skin on skin, her muffled moans against my palm. It was the hottest sound I’d ever heard. She was so tight, so hot, and I could feel her clenching around me.

I pulled out, and she whimpered at the loss. I spun her around, lifting her up. She wrapped her legs around my waist, and I sank back into her, this time facing her. Her dress was bunched around her waist, her tits spilling out of her sundress, her nipples hard. I lowered my mouth to one, sucking hard while I fucked her, her fingers digging into my shoulders.

"Faster," she hissed, her head falling back. "Don't stop."

I drove into her, harder, deeper, the shelf rattling against the wall. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her lips parted, and I could feel her getting closer. I watched her face, the way her brow furrowed, the way she bit her lip.

"I'm gonna—" she gasped.

"Come for me, Lena," I grunted. "Let me feel it."

Her body convulsed, a silent scream caught in her throat as she came, her pussy milking my cock. The feeling was too much. I buried my face in her neck, inhaling her scent of salt and perfume, and came inside her with a guttural groan, my own body shaking with the force of it.

We stayed like that for a long moment, tangled together, breathing hard. The city hummed below us, oblivious. She finally dropped her legs, sliding down my body, and smoothed her dress with a shaky hand. She looked at me, her lips swollen, her eyes hazy.

"That was…" she started.

"The staff room," I finished, a grin spreading across my face. "I'm going to need a new bottle of bleach."

She laughed, a real, open laugh. She leaned in, her lips brushing my ear. "My room. The Ritz-Carlton. Room 2412. I have a balcony, and I'm not wearing any panties under this dress."

She walked out, the door swinging shut behind her, leaving me hard again in the dark, the taste of her still on my lips.