Chapter 106: Knock At The Door
The apartment at 1427 Willow Lane, apartment 3B, was a cocoon of dim light and unspoken anticipation, the air heavy with the scent of jasmine candles flickering on the nightstand, their warm glow casting shadows across the walls like whispers of forbidden desire. The clock on the wall ticked relentlessly toward 11:00 pm, each second a deliberate echo in the otherwise silent space, amplifying the charged atmosphere that wrapped around Samantha and Elena.
They perched on the edge of the king-sized bed, their eyes fixed on the clock’s unyielding hands, their expressions a captivating blend of trepidation and thrill etching fine lines around their mouths, eagerness blooming in the rosy flush of their cheeks, a raw, unspoken hunger glinting in their gazes like stars in a midnight sky.
Samantha had woven her web of deception with ease earlier that evening, convincing her husband, Gregory, that she was spending the night at Elena’s for one of their girls catch-ups. "You know how it is, honey, we’ve got some gossip to unpack," she’d said with a light laugh, her voice steady even as her pulse raced with the lie.
Gregory, ever the trusting soul, had nodded without a second thought, accustomed to their occasional sleepovers that stretched into lazy mornings over coffee. "You two have fun, don’t stay up too late," he’d replied with a yawn, planting a chaste kiss on her forehead before retreating to his own world of work emails and early bedtimes.
Little did he know the storm brewing in her veins, the way her body had been humming all day with thoughts of Devon Aldridge.
Elena’s husband, Robert, had followed suit at 10:00 pm, bidding them goodnight with a sleepy wave as he shuffled off to his room down the hall. "Don’t let me cramp your style, ladies, catch up on all that girl talk," he said.
The master bedroom, with its soft cream walls and oversized bed draped in luxurious white linens, felt like a private universe now, isolated from the mundane world outside. The women had spent the hour since Robert’s departure in a whirlwind of nervous chatter, their conversation circling back to Devon like moths to a flame, Elena recounting her own encounter with him in vivid, whispered detail, Samantha hanging on every word, her thighs pressing together to ease the growing throb between them, her fantasies spiraling into explicit visions of what was to come.
Samantha’s fingers twisted restlessly in the hem of her silk robe, the smooth fabric sliding against her skin, her eyes darting to the clock once more, her full lips parted in a soft exhale that betrayed the quickening of her breath.
Her curvaceous body radiated a restless energy, the robe barely containing her lush hips and heavy breasts, which strained against the thin material, her nipples pebbling visibly beneath it as if already anticipating touch. Thighs pressed together, she shifted slightly, the subtle friction sending a spark of heat through her core, a reminder of the ache that had been building since their massage parlor confessions.
Elena beside her sat with a straighter posture, her brown eyes flickering with a potent mix of apprehension and excitement, her frame tense in the fitted red dress that hugged her toned curves.
The neckline plunged daringly, revealing the elegant swell of her breasts, her nipples faintly outlined through the fabric, hardening under the weight of her own thoughts.
She smoothed her hands over her thighs, the dress riding up just enough to tease the lace edge of her stockings, her mind replaying the phone call from earlier, Devon’s voice a low rumble that had made her clit pulse even then.
They were waiting, their bodies attuned to the promise of Devon Aldridge.
Samantha broke the silence first, her voice a husky whisper. "Do you think he’ll really come? God, Elena, what if Robert wakes up?" Elena glanced at her, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the nerves. "He’ll come. And Robert sleeps like the dead after his evening scotch. We’re safe."
At a few minutes to 11:00 pm, Elena’s phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with an unknown number like a beacon in the dim room. She snatched it with a speed that betrayed her frayed nerves, her fingers trembling slightly as she answered, pressing the device to her ear.
"Yes? Are you here?" she whispered, her voice low and urgent, her breath catching in her throat. Devon’s voice came through, smooth and commanding. "Right outside, Elena. Open the door." She hung up without a word, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest as she glanced at Samantha, whose eyes widened with a mix of terror and exhilaration, her hands clutching the robe tighter, her nipples now prominently tenting the fabric.
Elena rose from the bed, her movements soft and deliberate, tiptoeing through the apartment’s darkened hallway with the grace of someone navigating a minefield. Her bare feet padded silently on the floor, the red dress swishing softly against her thighs, the hem riding up with each careful step to reveal the smooth expanse of her legs.
The house was still, Robert’s soft snores filtering from his room like a distant reassurance, but her pulse raced, every creak of the floorboards amplifying her fear of discovery.
She reached the main door, her hand hesitating on the knob for a heartbeat, then turned it gently, the hinges whispering a faint protest as Devon’s imposing figure filled the doorway.
He stood there, a smirk curling his full lips, his eyes glinting with predatory intent, scanning her from head to toe in a way that made her skin tingle. His tailored shirt clung to his sculpted chest, unbuttoned at the collar to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of sweat-slicked skin and the faint hint of muscle beneath, his trousers fitting snugly against the prominent bulge already straining at his crotch, a promise of what was to come.
Elena’s face lit up, a rush of relief and raw desire flooding her features as she threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly, her breasts pressing firmly against his chest, the thin red dress doing little to conceal the way her nipples hardened instantly at the contact.
Devon opened his mouth to speak, perhaps a teasing greeting or a command, but Elena pressed a finger urgently to his lips, her touch lingering a second too long, feeling the warmth of his breath.
"Shh," she whispered, her voice barely audible, her brown eyes wide with caution. "Robert’s home, asleep in the other room. We have to be quiet—tiptoe, okay?" Her hand slid down to grasp his, her fingers warm and slightly clammy with nerves, intertwining with his in a grip that was both guiding and possessive.
She led him through the apartment, tiptoeing with exaggerated care, her hips swaying under the dress in a subconscious rhythm, the fabric riding up to tease fleeting glimpses of her toned thighs and the curve of her ass. Devon followed, his smirk widening at her adorable caution, shaking his head with silent amusement, his eyes locked on the hypnotic sway of her body, the way the dress clung to her curves like a lover’s caress. His cock stirred further, the anticipation building with each silent step.
They reached the bedroom, and Elena pushed the door open slowly, the soft creak barely audible over the rapid thump of her heart. The room was a haven of seduction, Samantha was waiting, sprawled across the bed, her silk robe discarded in a careless heap on the floor like a shed inhibition.
She was stark naked, her body a masterpiece of raw, unfiltered desire, her full, heavy breasts splayed invitingly across her chest, the rosy nipples standing erect and puckered, dark and sensitive, begging to be pinched, sucked, twisted until she arched in ecstasy, her thick thighs spread wide in blatant invitation, revealing the glistening pink folds of her pussy, already slick and swollen with arousal, the lips parted obscenely to expose the inner wetness, her clit a throbbing, engorged bud peeking from its hood, glistening with her juices.
A faint trail of wetness trailed down her inner thigh, evidence of her self-teasing, her curls fanned across the pillow, her eyes locked on Devon with a smoldering intensity that belied the flicker of nervous fear beneath.
She propped herself on one elbow, the movement making her breasts jiggle enticingly, her other hand lazily tracing circles around her navel, dipping lower to brush her clit with feather-light strokes, a soft, breathy moan escaping her parted lips as her fingers parted her folds slightly, the wet sound audible in the quiet room, a bead of her arousal dripping onto the sheets. Her ass, round and plush, shifted against the linens, lifting slightly as she arched her back, presenting herself like an offering, a bead of sweat trickling down the valley between her breasts, pooling at her navel before sliding lower.
Elena paused at the threshold, her breath catching in her throat at the sight, a deep flush creeping up her neck and spreading to her cheeks. She’d known Samantha’s desire for Devon ran deep, had listened to the heated confessions during their massage parlor whispers. She couldn’t blame Samantha one bit, Devon was a force of nature, a man whose mere presence promised ecstasy and ruin in equal measure.
Elena’s hand unconsciously drifted to her thigh, fingers tracing the hem of her dress, her nipples hardening further against the fabric as her arousal built, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
Devon stepped fully into the room, his eyes immediately locking onto Samantha, his smile stretching wider into a wolfish grin that bared his teeth, his gaze raking over her body with unhurried greed.
"Fuck me," he murmured, his voice a low, appreciative growl that resonated through the space, his cock hardening instantly against the confines of his trousers, the outline swelling obscenely as he drank in every detail, her heaving breasts with their puckered nipples, the slick, parted lips of her pussy, the way her fingers teased her clit with slow, deliberate circles, her hips rolling slightly in a subconscious rhythm as if already fucking the air in anticipation of him.
Elena closed the door softly behind them, her own breath coming faster now, her hand slipping under her dress to rub her clit through the soaked fabric of her panties, a soft, involuntary moan escaping as she leaned against the wall for support, her eyes glued to the unfolding scene.
Samantha had no idea where the confidence surged from, a tidal wave of reckless need that drowned out the last vestiges of her fear, her body moving before her mind could catch up.
She slid off the bed with a graceful, predatory slink, her naked body swaying hypnotically as she approached Devon, her heavy breasts bouncing gently with each step, the rosy nipples tracing arcs in the air, her thick thighs brushing together with a soft whisper, the glistening folds of her pussy visible between them, leaving a faint, shiny trail of arousal on her inner thighs that caught the candlelight like liquid gold. Her ass cheeks flexed with each movement, round and plush, inviting a slap or squeeze, her chestnut curls tumbling over one shoulder as she tilted her head, her eyes locked on his with a smoldering intensity that promised everything.
When she reached him, she pressed herself against him without hesitation, her naked skin flush against his clothed body, her soft, yielding curves molding to his hard, unyielding frame. Her heavy breasts mashed against his chest, the nipples scraping roughly against the fabric of his shirt, sending jolts of pleasure through her that made her gasp softly, her body arching into him as if seeking more friction.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in the dark strands of his hair, pulling him down slightly as she rose on tiptoes, her pussy brushing deliberately against the prominent bulge in his trousers, the rough denim teasing her swollen clit through the thin barrier, drawing a low moan from her throat as she ground against him shamelessly, leaving a wet smear on the fabric.
"Devon," she whispered, her voice husky and breathy, dripping with unfiltered need, her full lips hovering inches from his ear before trailing down to his neck.
She kissed the warm skin there, her tongue darting out to lick a slow, languid path along his pulse, tasting the faint musk of his sweat and cologne, the flavor exploding on her tongue like an aphrodisiac.
"I’ve been thinking about you all fucking day, your cock, how it would feel stretching me, filling me until I can’t think straight." Her words were raw, each one a pulse of heat that made his cock throb harder against her, straining painfully against his zipper.
Her free hand slid down his chest, fingers tracing the ridges of his abs through the shirt before fumbling with his belt, the metal clinking softly as she unbuckled it, then dipping boldly inside his trousers to wrap around his shaft.
His chock pulsed in her grip, the skin smooth over steel hardness, her thumb smearing the generous bead of pre-cum over the head, the slickness making her moan against his neck as she pumped him slowly, deliberately, feeling him grow even larger in her hand.
"So big... so fucking hard for me," she continued, her lips sucking harder on his neck, leaving a blooming red mark as she nipped the skin, her teeth grazing just enough to sting, drawing a low groan from him that vibrated through her body. "I want your cock in me, Devon, pounding my pussy until I’m screaming, until I’m cumming all over you, my juices dripping down your balls. I want you to fuck me raw, make me your slut for the night."
Her strokes quickened, her hand twisting at the base, the wet, slick sounds filling the room like an erotic prelude, her pussy grinding more insistently against his thigh, the friction sending sparks up her spine, her arousal soaking through his trousers.
Elena watched from the shadows, her own hand now fully under her dress, fingers circling her clit with increasing urgency, a soft whimper escaping as she bit her lip, the scene before her igniting a fire that made her knees weak.
Devon’s hands roamed her body freely, one gripping her ass to pull her closer, kneading the plush flesh until she whimpered into his neck, her strokes faltering as he thrust into her hand, the other sliding up to cup her breast, thumb flicking her nipple hard enough to make her gasp. "Keep talking, Samantha," he growled, his voice thick with lust, his lips brushing her ear, sending shivers down her spine. "Tell me how bad you want this cock—how you’ll beg for it, how you’ll spread those thick thighs and let me ruin that pretty pussy." His words fueled her, her kisses turning frantic, her tongue tracing the line of his jaw as she pumped him faster, the room alive with the wet, rhythmic sounds of her hand on his cock and the soft gasps of their building desire, the jasmine candles flickering as if in applause.