Tell Me Where It Hurts - Altered States, #2

Noah's seventeenth-floor roost — a glass-and-steel monolith of angles and cool surfaces. A fortress of routine he'd labeled a life. But tonight the atmosphere crackles like the hush before a violent downpour. She's the spark, the fire, the inferno about to consume his carefully constructed life.

"You're not ready yet," she taunts, darting toward the door, laughter echoing. "Come get me, Noah." He steps in, cock in hand, guiding it to her heat. She tastes like smoke and defiance. He thrusts deep and a torrent of hot thick cum floods her. In a cramped office above a pawn shop, her pencil skirt slit rises just high enough. "You're fucking drowning for it," she whimpers, forehead hitting his chest. At a bar, she slides onto the stool next to him and his cock is already hard. He chases her silhouette through alley shadows, pins her against brick, his cock still pulsing slick and hot with her heat. Noir-smut where the hurt is the want and the alley is the answer.