Chapter 4 – Triple the Price

Elise stood frozen with the tray still in her hands. His eyes stayed on her chest for a long second before they rose to her face.

“How do you know my name?” she asked again.

He nodded once toward the name tag pinned to her shirt. “It’s right there.”

She glanced down. The tag sat slightly crooked over her left breast. Heat crawled up her neck. She set the tray on the table harder than she meant to.

“Do you need anything else?” she asked. “I should get back.”

“You’re not going back yet.”

Elise’s fingers curled at her sides. “I only came to drop the drinks.”

He leaned back against the seat. The thin glasses caught the low light. “Sit.”

“I can’t. I’m working off a tab.”

“I’ll cover the tab,” he said. “And more. But you’re not leaving this booth until you make me feel good.”

The words landed heavy between them. Elise felt her pulse jump in her throat. She took one step toward the curtain.

“I don’t do that.”

“You need money,” he said. It was not a question. “I can see it on your face. Triple the usual rate if you ride me until I’m satisfied. Cash. Tonight. No one else comes in.”

Pride pushed up hot in her chest. She wanted to walk out. She wanted to tell him to go to hell. But the hospital number, the loan shark’s voice, and the eviction text all sat in the back of her mind like open wounds.

She swallowed. “Triple?”

“Triple. You set the pace. I don’t touch you unless you ask. You ride. That’s the deal.”

Elise’s hands shook. She wiped them on the apron, then untied it and dropped it on the seat across from him. She walked around the table. He watched every step. When she stopped in front of him he spread his knees slightly to make room.

She climbed onto the seat and straddled his lap, the tight space forcing her skirt high up her thighs. The hard, thick line of his cock pressed against her through his pants and the thin fabric of her underwear. Heat flooded her core; her pink pussy was already slick and throbbing, wetness soaking the crotch of her panties before she’d even touched him.

“This stays between us,” she breathed, voice low and shaky with need.

“It stays between us.”

She reached down, fingers working his belt open with urgent, clumsy haste. The zipper rasped. He lifted his hips just enough. When she freed him, his cock sprang out—thick, veined, at least eight hard inches, the head already flushed and glistening. She bit her lip hard, staring at it. Then she shoved her soaked underwear aside, exposing her dripping pink pussy, and sank down onto him in one slow, continuous slide.

The stretch was brutal and perfect. A broken moan tore from her throat as every thick inch forced her open, stretching her tight walls around his hard cock until she was fully seated, stuffed to the hilt. She bit her lip again to muffle the sound. He exhaled a rough, low groan but kept his hands on the seat at first, glasses still on, eyes locked on her face like he was memorizing every twitch.

Elise started to move. She rose and dropped, working herself on his thick cock with raw, hungry strokes. Wet, filthy sounds filled the booth every time her pink pussy swallowed him—slick, creamy arousal coating his shaft and dripping down onto his balls. She hated how good it felt. She hated how her body clenched and fluttered around those hard inches, chasing the next deep thrust.

“Look at me,” he ordered, voice gravel-rough.

She did. His gaze stayed steady, almost cold, but his jaw was tight, nostrils flaring as he watched her mouth fall open every time she took him all the way down. She rode him harder, hands braced on his shoulders, apron strings swaying with every bounce. Her wet pussy made obscenely loud, creamy squelches. She bit her lip again, trying to stay quiet, but soft, desperate moans kept spilling out.

One of his hands finally left the seat and gripped her hip—not guiding, just holding her steady while she used him. She leaned forward and worked herself faster, chasing the sharp pressure building deep inside. Her pink pussy was soaked, cream already gathering around the base of his cock every time she bottomed out.

“That’s it,” he growled. “Take what you need. Fuck yourself on my cock.”

The words shoved her over the edge. Her body clenched hard around his thick inches. A raw, broken moan ripped from her throat as she came, walls fluttering and milking him. Then the pressure exploded—she squirted, a sudden hot gush of clear fluid spraying around his cock, soaking his pants and the seat beneath them. She kept riding through it, shaking, biting her lip until it hurt, more wetness pouring out of her with every bounce.

He didn’t last. A few seconds later he groaned, low and shocked, and she felt him throb hard inside her. He pulled out halfway—thick white cum already starting to spill—then slammed back in deep, hips jerking as he flooded her. Hot, thick ropes of white cum pumped into her pink pussy, overflowing around his cock in creamy rivulets that dripped down his shaft. He pulled out again, the head dragging through her messy, cum-slick folds, then thrust back in one more time, grinding deep while the last pulses of his orgasm painted her insides white.

Elise stayed there a moment, breathing hard, forehead nearly touching his, his cock still twitching inside her cream-filled pussy. Then she lifted off him carefully. A thick string of white cum and her own juices stretched between them before breaking, leaving her empty, aching, and leaking. She fixed her soaked underwear as best she could and stood on unsteady legs, thighs sticky, the illicit wet mess of what they’d just done still dripping down her legs.

He reached into his coat, pulled out a folded stack of cash, and held it out. She took it without counting. The amount was more than triple any rate she had ever heard of.

“We’re done,” she said.

She turned toward the curtain. His hand caught her wrist before she could take a second step. His thumb pressed against the frantic pulse there and stroked once.

“Next time,” he murmured, “I want to hear you beg.”