Chapter 1: Midnight Whispers
The crisp Norwegian air bit at Ingrid’s skin as she leaned against the balcony of her Oslo apartment, the city lights twinkling below like a carpet of stars. Her silk robe clung to her curves, barely containing the heat still radiating from her body after last night’s marathon with Erik. She smirked, replaying the message he’d sent just minutes ago: *Hei og takk for en deilig natt. Kjenner meg så tilfredsstillende. Trodde ikke jeg skulle klare fire omganger med deg. Min kuk er øm etter all knullingen.*
She chuckled, her breath visible in the cold. 'Øm, huh? You’re lucky I didn’t break you, Erik,' she muttered to herself, her voice low and husky. Ingrid was no shrinking violet—she was a woman who took what she wanted, and last night, she’d wanted him. Badly.
Her phone buzzed again. Another message from Erik: *When can I see you again? I’m already hard thinking about that wicked mouth of yours.*
Ingrid’s lips curled into a predatory grin as she typed back, *Patience, lover boy. My pussy’s still dripping from last night, but I’m not done with you yet. Come over. Now.*
She didn’t wait for a reply. She knew he’d come running. Turning back inside, she let the robe slip just a little, revealing the swell of her breasts as she poured herself a glass of aquavit. The burn of the liquor matched the fire in her veins. She was horny as hell, and Erik was about to get a reminder of who was in charge.
The doorbell rang, sharp and insistent. Ingrid sauntered over, her hips swaying with purpose. She opened the door to find Erik standing there, his rugged face flushed from the cold, his eyes dark with lust. 'Damn, woman, you don’t waste time,' he growled, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.
'Why should I?' Ingrid shot back, her tone dripping with challenge. 'You’re the one who couldn’t keep his cock in his pants last night. Four rounds, and you’re still begging for more?'
Erik laughed, a deep, throaty sound that sent a shiver down her spine. 'Begging? Nah, I’m just here to collect what’s mine. That tight little ass of yours has been on my mind all day.'
Ingrid stepped closer, her gaze locking with his. 'Oh, you think you own this?' She ran a hand down her side, teasingly slow. 'You’ll have to work for it, big boy. I don’t give anything for free.'
He reached for her, but she dodged with a wicked laugh, pushing him back against the wall. 'Not so fast,' she purred, her fingers trailing down his chest. 'I’m in control here. You want a taste of me? You’re gonna have to earn it.'
Erik’s breath hitched, his eyes narrowing with desire. 'You’re a fucking tease, Ingrid. I’m already so hard it hurts.'
'Good,' she whispered, her lips brushing his ear. 'I want you sweating, panting, desperate before I let you anywhere near me.' She pressed herself against him, feeling the heat of his body through his clothes, her own arousal building as she felt him strain against her. Her hand slid lower, teasing, promising. 'Let’s see if you can handle another round… or five.'
Their banter dissolved into raw need as she pulled him toward the bedroom, her robe falling to the floor. The air between them crackled with tension, her wet heat already aching for him, his groans filling the room as she pushed him down onto the bed. This was going to be explosive—and she was going to make sure he never forgot who owned the night.
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