I've been watching him for weeks. Same building, same floor, just two doors apart. Every night he comes home late, drops his keys on the table, strips down to nothing but boxers, and crashes on the couch with the TV flickering. He never locks the balcony door properly — careless, sexy mistake.
Tonight my heart is hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat. I'm wearing nothing under the thin black robe, heels clicking softly on the corridor floor. I slip the spare key I "borrowed" from the maintenance guy last month into his lock. Click. It turns.
The apartment is dark except for the blue glow from the muted sports channel. He's sprawled there, one arm thrown over his eyes, chest rising slow and steady. His boxers are tented slightly — even asleep he's half-hard. God, I want to taste that.
I let the robe slide off my shoulders. It pools at my feet. Naked except for the heels and the thin silver chain around my waist. I step closer, breath shallow. My nipples are already aching, pussy slick just from the thought of what's coming.
I kneel beside the couch, fingers trailing up his thigh. He stirs but doesn't wake. I hook my fingers into the waistband and tug the boxers down slowly. His cock springs free, thick, veined, already swelling as the cool air hits it. I lean in and drag my tongue from base to tip in one long, wet stroke.
He groans low in his throat, hips jerking. Eyes still closed. "What the—?"
"Shhh," I whisper against his skin. "Don't move. This is happening whether you want it or not."
His eyes snap open. Confusion, then recognition, then raw hunger. "You... broke in?"
"I let myself in," I correct, straddling his thighs. My wet folds slide along his length, teasing, not letting him in yet. "You've been teasing me for months with those late-night workouts I can see from my window. Thought I'd return the favor."
He grabs my hips hard, fingers digging in. "You're fucking crazy."
"And you're hard as steel," I shoot back, grinding down until the head nudges my entrance. "So shut up and fuck me like you've been imagining."
He doesn't need more invitation. One brutal upward thrust and he's buried deep. I cry out — sharp, surprised pleasure-pain. He's bigger than I expected, stretching me wide. I brace my hands on his chest and start riding, fast, desperate. My tits bounce with every slam. He reaches up, pinches my nipples hard enough to make me gasp.
"Fuck, you're soaked," he growls, thrusting up to meet me. "Been thinking about this tight little cunt, haven't you?"
"Every damn night," I admit, clenching around him. "Wanted to sneak in, wake you with my mouth, make you come down my throat before you even knew my name."
He flips us suddenly — I'm on my back on the couch now, legs spread wide, heels still on. He hooks my ankles over his shoulders and drives in deeper, hitting that spot that makes stars explode behind my eyes.
"Too late for slow," he says, voice rough. "You wanted to play intruder? Then take it rough."
He fucks me like he owns me — hard, relentless, hand around my throat just tight enough to make my head spin. I rake my nails down his back, moaning his name like a prayer. My orgasm builds fast, too fast. I try to hold it but he reaches between us, rubs furious circles on my clit.
"Come for me, intruder," he orders. "Come all over the cock you broke in to steal."
I shatter. Screaming, shaking, pussy pulsing around him so hard he curses. He doesn't stop — keeps pounding through my climax until his own hits. Hot spurts deep inside me, filling me up, marking me.
We collapse, sweaty, panting. He doesn't pull out yet. Just looks down at me with a dark, satisfied grin.
"Next time," he murmurs, "just knock. I'll leave the door open."
I smile, wicked. "Where's the fun in that?"