Chapter 3: Suite Satisfaction

The room number was 707.

Vanessa stepped out of the elevator, heels echoing off the plush hallway carpet, heartbeat thrumming under her tailored black dress. Slit up the thigh. No bra again. Just soft silk over bare, aching skin.

She paused at the door. Took a breath. Knocked.

The door opened instantly.

Malik stood there, shirtless, wearing only dark lounge pants that clung low to his hips. The light caught every cut of his chest and abs, his skin smooth and glistening slightly, like he'd just stepped from the steam. His eyes dropped from her face to her body, taking his time.

"Damn," he murmured. "You came dressed for destruction."

Vanessa stepped inside without a word, brushing her hand across his chest as she passed.

"And you're the weapon," she replied, glancing over her shoulder.

---

The suite was dimly lit, scented faintly with something woody and masculine. The blinds were drawn, but city lights filtered through slats, casting streaks across the king-sized bed. A bottle of bourbon and two glasses waited on a table by the window.

Vanessa walked over and poured.

Malik stepped behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body at her back.

"You like it neat?" she asked, handing him a glass.

"I like it dirty," he murmured, wrapping his hand around hers. "But I'll start with neat."

They clinked glasses.

She sipped, then ran her tongue slowly across her lips.

Malik watched. "You do that on purpose."

"Do what?"

"Make a man imagine that mouth in places that'll ruin him."

She stepped closer. "What if I want to ruin you?"

He leaned in, his breath warm on her ear. "Then I hope you know… I ruin right back."

---

They moved to the couch.

Vanessa curled one leg beneath her, facing him, dress slipping higher. Malik sprawled wide, his powerful thighs spread, one arm over the backrest. His eyes devoured her like a man starving.

"Tell me something," she said, sipping again. "Why do you like older women?"

Malik tilted his head. "You sure you wanna know the truth?"

"I crave the truth," she purred. "Even the filthy kind."

He leaned in. "Because y'all know exactly what you want. You don't pretend. You don't play scared. You walk into a room and make a man's cock hard just by raising an eyebrow."

She smirked. "And younger women don't?"

"Not like you." He set down his glass. "You walk like you've ridden better. Kiss like your mouth remembers the taste of power. Touch like you know where every nerve ends."

Vanessa's legs pressed tighter together.

"You done flattering me?" she said softly.

"I haven't started." He reached for her foot, dragging his thumb along the arch of her heel. "But you're gonna make me say things I've only ever thought."

"Try me."

He pulled her foot into his lap, pressed it against his thickening bulge.

"I dreamt about you last night," he said, voice low. "Dreamt you sat on my face and made me beg to breathe."

Vanessa inhaled sharply, pupils darkening.

"I woke up hard as hell," he continued. "And I stayed hard thinking about how you'd taste."

She slid forward slowly, her foot pressing firmer against him.

"You could find out," she said, "if you're brave enough."

Malik stood suddenly, hand out.

"Come with me."

---

He led her to the bathroom.

Steam fogged the mirrors, the oversized glass shower running low and warm. Malik had set it up before she arrived. He was always prepared.

Vanessa raised a brow. "You planning to clean me up before you get me dirty?"

He smirked. "I plan to taste every inch of you while the steam makes you sweat."

She stepped out of her heels and let the dress drop.

No lingerie. Just soft, glowing skin and curves that demanded worship.

Malik's eyes darkened as he took her in.

"Jesus, Vanessa…"

She stepped closer, fingers trailing down his chest.

"Your turn."

He pulled off the lounge pants slowly, revealing himself thick and fully hard. Her eyes dropped—and stayed there.

"You've got a serious weapon," she murmured. "How do you walk around with that thing?"

He grinned. "Balanced. Until you throw me off."

She stepped into the shower. "Then let's see how well you hold up under pressure."

---

The water cascaded over them, steam curling around their bodies.

Malik's hands moved over her slick skin, starting with her shoulders, sliding down to her lower back, lingering at the curve of her ass. He pressed her gently to the glass wall, hands bracing her.

His mouth trailed over her neck, kissing, tasting. She arched into him, gasping as his tongue circled her nipple, teeth grazing lightly.

"You're too good at this," she whispered.

"I told you," he breathed, dragging his lips lower. "I ruin."

Vanessa's fingers tangled in his hair as he sank to his knees, water rolling off his shoulders as his tongue slid between her thighs.

She gasped, fingers digging into the fogged-up glass behind her.

Malik groaned into her, devouring her slowly, methodically, savoring each flick and suck like she was his drug. His hands gripped her thighs, lifting one leg over his shoulder.

Her moans echoed off the tiles.

"Fuck… Malik…"

He pulled back only to whisper, "Not yet."

---

When he stood, his cock pressed hard against her stomach.

She wrapped her hand around it, slow, twisting strokes that made his breath hitch.

Then she dropped to her knees.

The water hit her back as she took him into her mouth, sucking him slow and deep, tongue teasing the underside. He growled low, one hand gripping the back of her head—not to guide, but to steady himself.

Her eyes locked on his the whole time.

Wet. Powerful. Intentional.

When he pulled her up, it was fast, desperate.

They stumbled out of the shower, dripping wet, mouths locked, teeth grazing, hands roaming.

He carried her to the bed and dropped her onto the cool sheets.

Vanessa spread her legs and reached for him. "Don't hold back."

He straddled her, his cock pressed against her folds again. No penetration—just pressure, heat, friction.

They began to grind.

---

It was slow at first. His thick shaft sliding against her slick entrance, her folds wrapping around him without taking him in. Her hips rose to meet him, matching his rhythm.

Their mouths devoured each other.

Wet. Open. Hungry.

She reached between them and started stroking him again, her other hand squeezing her breast, fingers teasing her nipple for him to watch.

"You gonna come like this?" she whispered.

He groaned. "If you keep stroking me like that, fuck yes."

"Good," she purred. "I want you to come all over me. Mark me. Paint my stomach with what I do to you."

He buried his face in her neck, thrusting faster, grinding harder.

Her thighs clenched around him.

He stroked himself now, faster, harder—until his body tensed, and he exploded across her stomach with a roar, thick and hot, spurting in waves.

Vanessa moaned, watching him fall apart.

He collapsed beside her, panting.

---

They laid there in silence, slick and tangled, the city lights dancing across their skin.

Vanessa finally spoke. "That was…"

"Dangerous," he whispered.

She turned to face him, tracing lazy fingers over his chest. "Next time," she said, "I want to feel you inside."

Malik looked at her, eyes raw and dark. "You will."