The Invitation Part 2 - Episode 1

She stood naked in the doorway, the invitation clutched in her hand. He had written only two words: come over. Nothing more. The paper trembled between her fingers. Her nipples tightened in the cool air. She walked to him slowly, letting him watch every step. He sat in the leather chair by the window, fully dressed, one hand resting on his thigh. His eyes moved over her breasts, her stomach, the smooth line between her legs. "Kneel," he said. She dropped down between his spread thighs. The carpet pressed against her knees. He unbuckled his belt. The sound of the leather sliding through the loops made her cunt tighten. He freed his cock, already hard, the head flushed dark. She leaned forward and took him in her mouth without being told. He tasted clean. Slightly salty. She worked her tongue along the underside, hollowing her cheeks as she sucked. His hand settled on the back of her head but he didn't push. He let her set the pace. She took him deeper until her nose brushed the fabric of his open fly, then pulled back, lips glossy with spit. "Good girl," he murmured. She looked up at him through her lashes. His face stayed calm, but his jaw flexed each time she swallowed around him. Her own arousal dripped down her inner thigh. She shifted her hips, seeking friction against nothing. He pulled her off his cock by her hair. Saliva trailed from her bottom lip to the glistening head. "On the bed," he said. "Face down. Ass up." She crawled onto the mattress. The sheets felt cool against her breasts. She spread her knees and arched her back, offering everything. He stood behind her. His palm smoothed over one cheek, then the other. She heard the soft clink of his belt again. Then the first strike landed, sharp and sudden across both cheeks. She gasped. The sting bloomed into heat. He struck again, lower this time, just above her thighs. Her clit pulsed. By the fourth slap she was pushing back into his hand, wordlessly begging. He stopped. She heard the rustle of clothing, then felt the blunt head of his cock notch against her entrance. He didn't thrust. He pushed in slow, deliberate, stretching her inch by inch until his hips met her ass. The fullness made her moan into the pillow. He gripped her hips and started to fuck her in long, measured strokes, each one bottoming out, each one pulling almost all the way out before driving back in. "Touch yourself," he ordered. She reached between her legs. Her fingers found her swollen clit, slippery with her own wetness. She rubbed tight circles while he fucked her harder now, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. Her orgasm built fast, sharp, impossible to hold back. She came with a broken cry, cunt clenching around him in rhythmic pulses. He didn't slow down. He fucked her through it, using her body, drawing every last tremor out of her. When she was limp, he pulled out. She felt the hot splash of his come across her lower back, thick ropes landing on her skin. He rubbed it in with his thumb, spreading it over the marks he'd left on her ass. "Stay like that," he said quietly. "I want to look at you."