Chapter 3: Elevator Pressure

The moment Monica stepped into the hotel lobby, the air changed. It wasn't just the cold marble under her heels or the soft hush of moneyed silence. It was him.

Zayden.

Leaning against the polished wall in a tight black tee and dark jeans, arms crossed over his thick chest. His eyes tracked her from the entrance like a wolf that had finally cornered its prey.

And she—clad in a cream blouse so sheer her dark nipples teased through the fabric, and a pencil skirt hugging her thick hips—smiled like the prey that wanted to be caught.

Zayden pushed off the wall and met her halfway.

"You're late," he said, voice low.

"I had to make sure the right things were shaved, soaked, and oiled," she said, licking her lips.

He grinned. "You smell like trouble."

She leaned in close, her perfume washing over him. "Then I must be your type."

They didn't speak again until the elevator doors slid closed behind them.

The tension hit immediately. Alone. Enclosed. Silent except for the hum of the slow ascent.

Zayden stepped behind her, his chest grazing her back. She gasped softly at the heat of his body.

"Been thinkin' about those titties all week," he murmured. "Swear I woke up hard every damn day."

Monica tilted her head just enough to let her hair fall back over his chest. "That mouth of yours is dangerous."

"That mouth of yours almost had me nutting on your couch."

She turned. Faced him. Her back hit the elevator wall as Zayden pressed into her, crowding her space, not touching yet—just close enough she could feel his bulge brush her stomach.

"You think about sucking it again?" he whispered.

Her breath hitched.

"I thought about choking on it," she said. "Slapping it on my tongue. Jerking it between my breasts until you begged."

Zayden growled, low and deep. He grabbed her waist, pulled her into him, letting her feel the full weight of his thick, pulsing cock against her belly.

"You keep talking like that and I'll bust in this damn elevator."

She rolled her hips against him slowly. "I wouldn't mind."

Suddenly, he grabbed her by the thighs and hoisted her up against the wall. Monica gasped, legs wrapping around his waist as his hard-on pressed right against her soaked panties under the skirt.

"Fuck, you feel so good, mama…"

He kissed her. This time rough, wet, desperate. Tongue in her mouth, hands on her ass, grinding her against the cold elevator mirror behind her.

Her blouse was riding up, and her breasts were straining against her lace bra.

"I wanna titfuck you right here," he groaned, "wanna pull that shirt open, watch your nipples bounce while I slide my dick all over them."

She moaned. "Then do it."

He dropped her back down just as the elevator dinged. She adjusted her top, breathless, cheeks flushed. Zayden stepped behind her, brushing against her ass the entire walk to the room.

Monica's heels clicked softly in the hallway until he stopped her just outside their door.

"You ready for this?" he asked.

She turned. Reached down, grabbed his bulge over his jeans, and squeezed.

"You have no idea."

He shoved the door open.

And they were on each other instantly.

Zayden pressed her against the wall inside the suite, locking it with one hand, the other sliding up her thigh under the skirt. Monica moaned into his mouth as his hand grazed the wet patch between her legs.

"No panties?" he grinned.

"Didn't want delays."

She dropped to her knees without a word, unzipping him like she was starving.

His thick, dark cock sprang free, already throbbing. Monica stared at it with hunger, stroking it with both hands, licking the tip like it was dessert.

"Monica…" he moaned.

She sucked the head slowly, then stroked him, letting saliva spill over her lips as she worked him with both hands and tongue, keeping eye contact the whole time.

"You're fuckin' filthy," he whispered.

She smiled around his cock, moaning softly, letting it throb on her tongue.

But before he could cum, she stopped.

"Not yet," she said, standing, lips wet.

She yanked off her blouse, unhooked her bra, and pressed her tits together, pushing them around his shaft.

"Oh my fuck," he groaned as she titfucked him, bouncing her heavy breasts around his thick length, licking the tip every time it poked out.

"You wanna cum between these?" she teased. "Wanna spray my chest?"

Zayden gritted his teeth, grabbing her waist.

"Not yet," he growled. "I want that pussy on me."

He lifted her again, carried her to the edge of the bed, and dropped her on the sheets.

But just as he started pulling his shirt off—she stopped him.

She leaned up, tugged the skirt off slowly, then crawled backward across the bed, legs spread, soaked, her tits swaying.

She looked over her shoulder and purred: "Close the door. And bring the lube."