天台之夜

The moment Lena dropped her robe, the whole city seemed to hold its breath. She didn't pose — she just stood there, silhouetted against the orange dusk, and let me look. My charcoal snapped in half between my fingers.

"Problem?" she asked, one eyebrow up.

"None," I said, my voice coming out rough. "Turn toward the light."

We were six floors up on my building's rooftop, the tar still warm from the day, the skyline glittering behind her like a cheap backdrop. She'd answered my ad — "figure model, evening light, no experience needed" — and now here she was, all long lines and a smirk that told me she knew exactly what she was doing.

"Slower," I said as she turned. "Let me see your shoulders."

She rolled them back, and the last of the sun caught the curve of her spine. I sketched, but my hand was moving wrong, too fast, too hungry. The page was a mess.

"Can I see?" She padded over, bare feet slapping the warm tar, and leaned over my shoulder. Her skin smelled like coconut and something sharper underneath. "Huh. That's not my hip."

"It's a study."

"It's a lie." She took the charcoal from my fingers, and her hand brushed mine — deliberate, slow. "Draw me honest."

"Then stand where I can see you."

She went back to the ledge and turned fully, chin high, and let me look at all of her — the small dark triangle between her thighs, the way her tits lifted when she breathed. My cock was already hard against my thigh, pressing the canvas of my jeans.

"Closer," I said.

"You're the artist. Come closer yourself."

I crossed the roof in four steps. She didn't move. I put one hand flat on the ledge beside her hip, and she tilted her head, waiting, that smirk still there.

"Scared?" she whispered.

I answered by dragging two fingers up her inner thigh, slow, feeling the heat of her skin. Her breath caught. I found her already slick, and when I pressed the pad of my finger to her clit she made a sound like she'd been holding it in all day.

"There," she breathed. "Right there. Don't stop."

I didn't. I circled her clit with my thumb while two fingers pushed inside her — tight, wet, gripping me. She rocked her hips into my hand, her nails digging into my shoulder, and the city hummed far below us like it didn't exist.

"You're going to make me come right here," she said, laughing and gasping at once. "On your hand. With the whole skyline watching."

“那就做吧。”

She did — fast, sudden, her thighs clamping around my wrist, her head dropping back, a long shudder running through her. I kept my fingers moving until she pushed my hand away, oversensitive, laughing.

"Okay," she said, her voice ragged. "Okay. Your turn."

She turned around and bent over the ledge, arms folded on the parapet, looking back at me over her shoulder. "Don't be gentle with me. I've been watching you sketch me for an hour. I know what you want."

I unzipped, rolled on a condom with shaking hands, and pushed into her in one long stroke. She was so wet it was almost nothing — just heat, and grip, and her groan echoing off the water tanks.

"Fuck," she said. "Yes. Like that."

I gripped her hip with one hand and her hair with the other, pulling her head back, and drove into her — hard, steady, the slap of our skin loud on the empty roof. She pushed back to meet me, matching my rhythm, her ass bouncing against my hips.

"Harder," she gasped. "Come on — I'm not made of glass."

I gave her harder. The ledge scraped her elbows, she didn't care. I felt her reach down between her legs, fingers working her clit while I fucked her, and her whole body started to tighten around my cock.

"I'm close again," she said, half a sob. "Don't you dare stop —"

I didn't. She came with a sharp cry, her pussy clamping down on me, and that was it for me — I buried myself deep and finished with a groan, my forehead against her shoulder, both of us breathing like we'd run up the six flights.

She turned around slowly, flushed and grinning, and pulled me down by the collar for a kiss that tasted like salt.

"So," she said against my mouth, "same time tomorrow?"

"Bring the robe," I said. "Or don't."

She laughed and stepped back into the dusk, and I was already thinking about the next sketch.