Insta love ❤️

I’d been messaging him on Instagram for weeks. Late-night voice notes, thirst traps he “accidentally” liked, conversations that started innocent and slowly turned filthy. I already knew the sound of his voice when he was hard. I already knew what he wanted to do to me. Tonight was the first time we’d actually meet.
The bar was dim and quiet. He was taller than I’d expected, broader in the shoulders, and the way he looked at me when I walked in made my stomach tighten. No small talk. Just that low voice in my ear as he pulled me against him for a hug that lasted a second too long.
“You look even better in person,” he murmured. His hand stayed on the small of my back, thumb stroking slow circles. “I’ve been thinking about this for weeks.”
One drink. Maybe two. I barely tasted them. His knee pressed against mine under the table. His fingers traced the inside of my wrist, then higher, brushing the soft skin of my inner arm. Every time he leaned in to speak, his mouth was close enough that I could feel the heat of his breath.
We didn’t make it to a second location. The second the elevator doors closed in the parking garage, he had me against the wall. His mouth crashed onto mine—hungry, claiming. One hand fisted in my hair, the other already sliding under my skirt, rough palm dragging up the outside of my thigh until he found the bare skin above my stockings.
“Fuck,” he groaned against my lips when his fingers brushed the soaked lace between my legs. “You’ve been this wet the whole time?”
I could only nod, hips pushing forward into his hand. He rubbed me through the fabric in slow, deliberate circles, watching my face while the elevator climbed. By the time the doors opened on his floor I was trembling.
He barely got the apartment door shut before he spun me around and pressed me face-first against it. His body covered mine, hard cock grinding against my ass through his jeans. One hand reached around to palm my breast, squeezing, thumb flicking over my nipple until it hardened under the thin fabric of my top. The other hand shoved my skirt up to my waist.
He dropped to his knees behind me without a word.
I felt his breath first, hot against the backs of my thighs. Then his mouth. He dragged my panties to the side and licked a long, filthy stripe through my slit, groaning like he’d been starving for it. His tongue was thick and wet, pushing between my folds, circling my clit, then dipping lower to fuck into me in short, greedy thrusts. I braced my hands on the door and pushed back against his face, moaning shamelessly as he ate me like he already owned me.
“Been dying to taste this,” he muttered between licks. “Every night I jerked off thinking about burying my tongue in this pretty cunt.”
He stood up only long enough to yank my panties down my legs and free his cock. I heard the sound of his zipper, the heavy slap of his thick length against my ass cheek. He rubbed the head through my slick folds, coating himself, teasing my entrance until I was panting and trying to push back onto him.
Then he sank in.
One long, relentless thrust that stretched me open around him. I cried out at the sudden fullness, at how deep he went, at the way his hips snapped flush against my ass. He didn’t give me time to adjust. He fucked me hard and deep right there against the door, one hand fisted in my hair, the other gripping my hip hard enough to bruise. The wet, filthy sound of his cock slamming into me filled the quiet apartment.
“Take it,” he growled against the side of my neck. “You’ve been teasing me for weeks. Now you’re gonna take every inch.”
He pulled out only long enough to spin me around, lift me, and carry me to the couch. I landed on my back with my legs spread wide. He shoved them higher, almost to my chest, and drove back into me in one smooth thrust. The new angle made me see stars. He braced one hand beside my head and used the other to