Alone Atlast

Amina’s overnight training in Seattle couldn’t come fast enough.

The whole day felt like foreplay stretched thin. She left right after breakfast with a quick hug for both of us and a “Don’t burn the house down!” tossed over her shoulder. The front door clicked shut, and the silence that followed was thick, electric, almost too loud.

Elias and I stood in the kitchen for a long moment, just looking at each other.

Then he smiled—slow, predatory, the kind that made my knees weak.

“Finally,” he said, voice low. “Come here.”

I didn’t walk. I practically ran.

He caught me, lifted me onto the kitchen island like I weighed nothing, and kissed me like he’d been starving for days. Hands everywhere—under my shirt, cupping my breasts, thumbs brushing my nipples until I gasped into his mouth.

“Been thinking about this since yesterday on the beach,” he murmured against my lips. “Watching you laugh with your friends, knowing I was the only one who knew how wet you get for me.”

His fingers slipped under my shorts, finding me already soaked. He groaned. “Fuck, baby. Always so ready.”

He dropped to his knees right there on the kitchen floor, yanked my shorts and panties down, and buried his face between my thighs. No teasing this time. His tongue licked broad and firm over my clit, then dipped inside me, tasting every inch while his hands gripped my ass, holding me open for him.

I gripped the edge of the counter, head thrown back. “Elias—oh god—”

He sucked my clit into his mouth and hummed. The vibration shot straight through me. I came fast and hard, thighs shaking around his head, crying out his name.

He stood, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes dark. “Bedroom. Now. I want you riding me.”

We barely made it upstairs.

Clothes hit the floor in a trail—my shirt on the stairs, his jeans in the hallway. By the time we reached the guest room I was naked, he was down to his boxers, thick cock straining against the fabric.

He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me onto his lap, straddling him. “Take what you want, Zara. Use me.”

I pushed his boxers down, wrapped my hand around his length, and stroked once, twice. He hissed through his teeth.

Then I sank down slowly, taking every thick inch until he was buried to the hilt.

We both groaned.

“Fuck,” he breathed, hands gripping my hips hard enough to leave marks. “So tight. So perfect. Look at you—taking your best friend’s dad so deep.”

I started moving—slow rolls at first, then faster, grinding down on him. His hands guided me, thumbs stroking my clit every time I came down.

“That’s it, good girl,” he growled. “Ride me just like that. Want to feel you come all over my cock.”

The angle hit perfectly. I leaned forward, bracing my hands on his chest, and moved harder. Skin slapped against skin. Rain drummed the roof like applause.

He sat up suddenly, wrapping one arm around my back, the other tangling in my hair. His mouth found my nipple, sucking hard while I rode him.

“Come for me, baby,” he rasped against my skin. “Let me feel that pretty pussy squeeze me.”

I shattered—clenching around him, crying out, vision whiting out.

He flipped us without pulling out, pressing me into the mattress. Then he fucked me hard—deep, relentless thrusts that pushed me up the bed.

“Gonna fill you up again,” he panted. “Gonna pump you so full you’ll still feel me tomorrow when Amina’s back.”

“Yes—please—Elias—”

He came with a guttural groan, hips stuttering, spilling hot and deep inside me. He stayed there, buried to the hilt, forehead pressed to mine, breathing hard.

For a long minute we just lay tangled, hearts hammering.

Then he kissed me—soft, slow, almost tender.

“You’re dangerous,” he whispered. “Making me want things I shouldn’t.”

I traced the line of his jaw. “Like what?”

“Like keeping you. Like telling Amina the truth. Like imagining you here… permanently.”

My chest tightened. The words felt too big, too real for stolen hours.

But before I could answer, his phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Amina’s name lit up the screen.

He silenced it, but the spell was broken.

He kissed my forehead. “Shower with me?”

I nodded.

Under the hot spray we washed each other slowly—his soapy hands sliding over my breasts, between my legs, gentle now. He held me against his chest while the water ran down our bodies.

“I don’t regret this,” he said quietly. “Not for a second. But we have to be smart. One slip and everything changes.”

I pressed my face into his wet shoulder. “I know.”

Yet as we dried off and made sandwiches in the kitchen like any normal afternoon, laughing about Mrs. Delgado’s wink yesterday, I felt the cracks widening.

The town was watching.

Amina would be home tomorrow.

And every time Elias looked at me—soft, clingy, already reaching for my hand across the counter—I knew we were running out of time to pretend this was just a summer secret.