I never make the first move. But
your profile changed that rule tonight. That picture of you in the red dress, barely covering your curves, your lips parted slightly like you were caught mid-moan... fuck.I messaged you, and now here we are, your apartment door clicking shut behind me. You're wearing that same red dress, but this time there's nothing between us but inches of charged air.
"Usually I don't do this either," you whisper, pressing against me. Your perfume mixed with something musky, primal. I can already feel how hard I'm getting through my jeans.
I back you against the wall, my hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the dress up until it's bunched around your waist. No panties. You planned this, you teasing minx.
My fingers find you already slick, swollen. "Fuck, you're ready for me," I growl against your neck, nipping at your pulse point.
Your head thuds against the wall as I work two fingers inside you, curling just right. "That's it," I murmur, "take what you want."
You grind against my hand, shameless now. "I want you to fuck me," you breathe, fumbling with my belt. "Right here. Hard."
I don't need more invitation than that. I lift you, your legs wrapping around my waist as I thrust into you in one smooth motion. Your cry is muffled against my shoulder as I set a punishing rhythm, the sound of skin slapping skin filling your entryway.
"Like this?" I pant, slamming into you again. "Is this what you wanted when you posted that picture?"
You can only moan in response, nails digging into my back. I feel you clench around me as you come, and I follow right after, filling you with everything I've been holding back since I first saw your profile.
Later, as we're tangled on your couch, you grin and say, "I'm glad you broke your rule."
I kiss you, already getting hard again. "Baby, I've got a lot more rules to break tonight."