Elizabeth lingered outside Karl Heberger's bedroom door, her pulse quickening at the unmistakable rhythm of his moans. Each guttural sound sliced through the wood, painting vivid pictures of his hand stroking that hard cock. She was infatuated, yes—obsessed, even—but she wasn't about to play the shy admirer. She wanted him badly, and hearing him jerk off only made her pussy throb with wet, dripping anticipation.
She pushed the door open without knocking. Karl froze mid-stroke, his cock glistening and hard in his fist, eyes wide. Sweat beaded on his chest as he panted.
"Elizabeth? What the hell—"
"Save the excuses," she cut in, voice sharp and laced with wit. "Your performance was loud enough to audition for the neighbors. Jerking off like that? Bold move, but amateur hour compared to what I have in mind."
Karl scrambled to cover himself, but she stepped closer, owning the room. "Horny much? I could hear every stroke. Now, let's make this interesting. I want that tongue of yours buried in my pussy until I cream all over your face. And when I come—thick, hot cum dripping down—you're going to lick it up like it's your last meal. No half-measures."
He smirked, recovering fast. "You always this direct, or is the door-creeping a new kink? What if I wanted a blowjob first?"
"Cute try," she fired back, shedding her clothes with deliberate grace, revealing her ass and the glistening evidence of her arousal. "But tonight, you're earning your keep between my thighs. Get on your knees, Karl. Make me pant and sweat before I even think about touching that cock."
The air thickened as he complied, drawn in by her commanding fire. She guided him down, her fingers threading his hair, the lead-up igniting into raw heat—the promise of explosive release hanging between them like a live wire.
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