Chapter 2: Heavy Delivery

Monica didn't plan to order anything. Not really. But her finger hovered over the checkout button for a ridiculously oversized set of throw pillows for her rarely-used guest room.

It wasn't about the pillows. It was about who might bring them.

And less than twenty-four hours later, there was a knock on her door.

She opened it slower this time, wearing a silky black robe loosely tied, the top just low enough to offer a view of her heavy, braless cleavage. Zayden stood there, tall and thick, in a tight grey tee that hugged every ripple of his chest and arms. His smile was instant and shameless.

"Miss me?" he asked.

"I ordered throw pillows," she replied coolly.

He glanced at the box. "These feel heavy for pillows. Then again, maybe you like it heavy."

Monica arched a brow. "Do you flirt like this with all your customers?"

He stepped in, brushing her arm as he passed. "Only the ones with tits like yours."

She let out a soft, amused scoff—but her nipples betrayed her, already straining against the robe as it clung to her soft, warm skin.

He dropped the box near the couch and turned to face her. "You didn't answer my question."

She walked past him, slowly, giving him a full view of her backside. "Which one?"

"If you missed me."

Monica turned halfway and gave a sly smile. "You assume you're worth missing."

He laughed. "That's funny, because last time I left, you were damn near panting at the door."

She stared at him. His confidence was addictive—like a drug laced with arrogance and desire. She could smell his skin again, clean and warm and masculine. Her thighs clenched as she stepped closer.

"You want a drink again?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Only if you're serving it to me like this." His eyes traveled down her body and landed squarely on her chest.

She walked to the kitchen, but made sure every sway of her hips was slow, exaggerated. She poured two glasses of wine, then paused. Untied the robe just a little more.

When she came back, he was sitting on the couch again—manspread like a king on a throne, his thick, long legs wide, his bulge... obvious. She handed him the glass, and when he took it, his fingers deliberately brushed hers.

"Nice robe," he murmured.

"Thanks. It's soft."

"I bet what's under it is softer."

Monica held his stare, then deliberately sat down right beside him—closer than before. Her thigh pressed into his. Her breast brushed his bicep. She took a sip, letting her tongue rest on the rim of the glass before pulling it back slow.

Zayden didn't look away.

"You're really enjoying yourself," she said, her voice low.

"Hard not to when you're sitting next to me with those perfect fuckin' tits hangin' out."

She smirked. "You like older women, Zayden?"

He turned toward her fully. "I like women who know what they want. Women with hips, with real curves, with bodies that know how to move. But most of all…" He reached out and lightly traced her collarbone. "I like breasts that aren't afraid to bounce when I take my time."

Her breath caught. She didn't stop him.

"You wanna touch them?" she asked bluntly.

His voice dropped to a growl. "You offering?"

Monica opened the robe slightly, just enough for the soft swell of her breasts to spill free. Full, heavy, nipples dark and firm, begging for attention.

Zayden didn't speak. He leaned in, brushing his lips softly against one peak. Not quite a kiss—more like a warning. She shivered.

"Goddamn," he whispered, cupping one breast in his large, dark hand. "They're even better than I imagined."

He leaned down and wrapped his lips around her nipple, sucking softly, then harder, pulling it between his teeth. Monica gasped—loud. She hadn't been touched like this in years.

Her hand slid down between his thighs, bold now, palm grazing the thick, pulsing bulge pressing against his pants.

"Oh fuck," she breathed. "You weren't lying about being heavy."

Zayden groaned against her chest. "Why do you think I keep coming back?"

He sucked harder, letting his tongue flick back and forth, then dragged his length along the underside of her breasts, pressing them together. She gasped as he pulled them into his hands, pressing his cock between them through his pants, titfucking her slow.

"God, this is so fucking dirty," she moaned.

"Uh-huh. And you like it," he grunted. "Big titties like these weren't made to be hidden. They were made for this."

Monica's robe had fallen completely open now. She wasn't even trying to cover herself. She gripped his length through his pants, slowly stroking, feeling the thickness, the heat.

"You wanna pull it out?" he asked, eyes locked on hers.

Her lips parted. Her body screamed yes. But she paused.

"Just a taste," she whispered.

He didn't move. Let her do it. She reached down, undid his zipper, and released him.

Holy fuck.

He was huge. Thick. Smooth. Veined. Her mouth watered at the sight, her palm wrapping around it instinctively.

"Oh my god," she muttered.

"Go ahead, mama. Taste it."

She bent over, lips brushing the tip, letting her tongue circle the head once. Just once. Then twice. She licked the bead of precum leaking out, moaning softly at the taste.

Zayden groaned, deep and hard, thrusting his hips just slightly. She gripped the base tighter, slowly stroking it, letting her tongue trace along the underside.

"Damn, Monica… you suck cock like you miss it."

"I do," she whispered.

She took just the tip into her mouth again, sucking slow and firm, then pulling back, stroking with both hands, using her spit as lube.

"Fuck… yeah… just like that…"

She didn't take him all. Just played with him—licking, stroking, teasing. Letting him slide between her breasts again as she leaned over, squeezing them together while still jacking him slowly.

"You gonna cum?" she teased.

"Not yet," he growled. "I want it in your mouth. All of it."

She bit her lip. So close. So easy to give in. She felt powerful and weak at the same time.

But then she stopped.

"You don't get to finish today," she said.

Zayden stared at her, panting. "You're evil."

She smiled. "I'm patient."

He groaned, adjusting himself, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"Shit, Monica. You don't play fair."

She stood and re-tied her robe, leaving her breasts still partly visible.

"I'm not here to play fair," she said. "I'm here to tease."

He leaned back, still half-hard, still throbbing. "You better not disappear on me now."

She walked over and handed him a napkin and a bottle of water. "Next time," she whispered, "bring protection. Just in case I change my mind."

Zayden stood, towering over her. He kissed her—soft, wet, and slow, with tongue and promise. Then stepped back.

"I'm getting a room," he said. "You pick the day."

She nodded, heart racing. "I already know the place."