The Invitation Part 1 Episodes
The Invitation Part 1 - Episode 1
She opens the door wearing nothing but the silk robe he sent her. It clings to her damp skin like a second skin. He steps inside without asking. His eyes travel over her slowly, deliberate, like he's already touched everything he's seeing. The robe parts at her thigh when she moves. She doesn't fix it. He notices. His hand comes up and cups her jaw, thumb dragging across her lower lip. She opens her mouth without thinking. He watches her tongue flick against his finger, then he pushes two fingers past her lips and presses down on her tongue until she tastes metal and salt. 'Good girl,' he says, voice low. She swallows around his fingers. The robe slips off one shoulder. He grabs the belt and yanks it loose. The silk falls open. Her nipples tighten in the cool air. He palms one breast, squeezes, watches her breath hitch. Then he drops to his knees right there in the entryway, pushes the robe wider, and buries his face between her thighs without another word. She grabs the doorframe for balance. His tongue finds her clit immediately, hot and insistent. She feels the wet slide of it, the deliberate pressure, the way he sucks and licks like he's starving. Her knees buckle. He doesn't let up. One hand grips her ass, holding her steady. The other slides two fingers inside her, curls, finds the spot that makes her gasp. She comes hard, thighs shaking around his head, robe hanging open, back arched against the doorframe. He doesn't stop until she's whimpering. Then he stands, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and says, 'Turn around.'
She opens the door wearing nothing but the silk robe he sent her. It clings to her damp skin like a second skin. He steps inside without asking. His eyes travel over her slowly, deliberate, like he's already touched everything he's seeing. The robe parts at her thigh when she moves. She doesn't fix it. He notices. His hand comes up and cups her jaw, thumb dragging across her lower lip. She opens her mouth without thinking. He watches her tongue flick against his finger, then he pushes two fingers past her lips and presses down on her tongue until she tastes metal and salt. 'Good girl,' he says, voice low. She swallows around his fingers. The robe slips off one shoulder. He grabs the belt and yanks it loose. The silk falls open. Her nipples tighten in the cool air. He palms one breast, squeezes, watches her breath hitch. Then he drops to his knees right there in the entryway, pushes the robe wider, and buries his face between her thighs without another word. She grabs the doorframe for balance. His tongue finds her clit immediately, hot and insistent. She feels the wet slide of it, the deliberate pressure, the way he sucks and licks like he's starving. Her knees buckle. He doesn't let up. One hand grips her ass, holding her steady. The other slides two fingers inside her, curls, finds the spot that makes her gasp. She comes hard, thighs shaking around his head, robe hanging open, back arched against the doorframe. He doesn't stop until she's whimpering. Then he stands, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and says, 'Turn around.'