Chapter 1: Two Days Later
11:06 PM.
Her phone buzzed once against her thigh, the glow slicing through the dark.
Leo.
Two days. No word. And now this.
Leo: "You still up?"
Maya: "Mm. You remember me now?"
Leo: "Didn't forget. Just had to miss you properly."
She let out a low chuckle, dragging her fingertips slowly along her bare stomach. The fan in the corner hummed, the only sound filling the room besides the soft echo of her breath.
She should've been annoyed. But the silence—the wait—only sharpened the edge of her desire.
Maya: "You're two nights late, Leo."
Leo: "Then let me make it up to you."
Just like that, the rhythm returned. As if nothing had ever paused.
Smooth, flirty, but this time there was weight in every word. That undeniable pull—the ache of wanting someone you've never touched.
Maya: "What are you wearing?"
Leo: "Sweats. No shirt. Just got out of the shower. You?"
Maya: "Silk robe. Nothing under."
A beat passed.
Leo: "Damn."
Maya: "Language."
Leo: "Can't help it. I'm picturing you... legs curled up, hair messy, teasing me through that screen."
Maya: "Oh, I'm not teasing yet. You'll know when I start."
She shifted slightly, letting the robe slide off her shoulder. He couldn't see her, but that wasn't the point. This was about power. This was about control. And tonight, she wasn't giving any of it up.
Maya: "You know what drives me wild?"
Leo: "Tell me."
Maya: "That caught breath... the way fingers twitch when they're desperate to touch... and facial hair."
Leo: "Facial hair?"
Maya: "That scruff of yours—I'd pull you between my thighs and let it burn nice and slow against my skin."
He didn't reply right away.
Leo: "You're wicked."
Maya: "Sit still. I'm not done."
Her fingers danced across the keys, painting every detail with slow, deliberate strokes.
She told him how she'd straddle him—bare, warm, so close he could feel her heat but not move inside her. How she'd keep her eyes on his, her hips barely shifting, just enough to tease.
Maya: "You'd beg, wouldn't you?"
Leo: "If you looked at me like that? Hell yes."
Maya: "I wouldn't even let you speak. Not yet."
She imagined him under her—hands at his sides, body twitching, lips parted with need. Her mouth would hover at his jaw, his chest, his stomach—so close, but never quite enough.
Maya: "How hard are you right now?"
Leo: "I'm throbbing. Like your hand's already on me."
Maya: "Funny. I haven't touched you. That's the point."
She let the silence stretch—tension curling around them like smoke.
Leo: "Please."
Maya: "Good. Now you're ready.
She changed the pace.
Now, it wasn't just teasing—it was slow possession. She described how she'd sink down onto him, inch by inch, never breaking eye contact. How she'd move with purpose. Not to please him, but to satisfy herself.
> Leo: "You'd ruin me."
Maya: "You want that?"
Leo: "Yes. All of it."
Maya: "Then let me take my time."
She told him how he'd stay still, how his body would respond to hers—helpless against her rhythm. How she'd feel him throb inside her, grip him tight, then stop right before he'd release.
Leo: "I'm close..."
Maya: "Not yet. Stay with me."
Leo: "Maya… please..."
Maya: "Now. Come for me. Deep."
His reply came slowly, like he had to catch his breath just to type.
Leo: "I can't even breathe."
She smiled, folding onto her side, the silk robe now clinging to her skin. Her body was still pulsing, satisfied—but not finished.
Maya: "Good. That was just the first round."
Leo: "There's more?"
Maya: "Oh baby... I'm saving the best for last."
They didn't stop there.
The conversation slipped into something softer—laughter between the heat, quiet questions, half-whispered truths they'd never say out loud with the lights on.
Even as he came down from the high, she stayed in control. Steady. Unshaken.
Leo: "You're unreal."
Maya: "I'm more real than the dream you're about to have."
Leo: "Will you be here tomorrow night?"
Maya: "Only if you show up on time."
Leo: "I will. I promise."
Maya: "Then sleep. And dream of what I haven't done to you yet."
She watched the typing bubble flicker, then vanish.
The room was silent again—but the heat lingered.
She could still feel him—pressed against her imagination, woven into her pulse.
End of Chapter 1.