Eva: Part 3

Eva sits at the desk, still wet from everything Riley and the publisher pulled out of her. Pages pile up. Each sentence carries heat she has already tasted. She stops typing. The words feel thin. They need weight. They need cock. She knows the man she wants. She has seen him in the parking lot, tall, black, the kind of bulge you notice even when he’s trying not to show it. Ricky Johnson. Today she waits by the elevator. When the doors open she steps inside with him, close enough that her shoulder brushes his arm. She turns, presses her ass back just enough to feel the thickness against her skirt. He doesn’t move away. She reaches down, finds him through denim, strokes once, slow. The elevator dings. She leads him inside her apartment without a word. On her knees she takes the head past her lips, lets the shaft fill her mouth until her nose meets the skin at the base. She holds there, throat tight around him, then pulls off wet and dripping. Spit hangs between her lips and the tip. She swallows him again, deeper. He lifts her onto the table, spreads her cheeks and pushes straight into her ass. Eva grips the edge, breath shaking. He fucks her slow at first, then harder, until the table creaks. When he pulls out she turns, sinks straight back down, tasting herself on every inch. She works him with her tongue, hollows her cheeks, swallows until his come floods her throat. She keeps him there until he softens, then lets him slip free, lips shiny, eyes glassy. She picks up the pen again.