"A View From the Sheets" with Natalie Lind

[TheLW]

A View From the Sheets
With Natalie Lind
Written by TheLW
Codes: MF, Blowjob
Disclaimer: This FICTIONAL story was written for entertainment purposes only.

(Story Inspired by Pixs)

The morning sunlight spilled into the suite in long golden ribbons, warming the white sheets tangled around Natalie’s legs. She lay half-reclined against a nest of pillows, her robe loosely tied, the folds parting just enough to promise more. One bare knee peeked through the gap, catching the light. The room felt still, almost suspended in time. A carafe of water on the nightstand caught the glow, the city beyond the window softened by heavy curtains. Natalie had no plans today, no meetings, no obligations, just the indulgence of taking the day on her own terms. That started with room service.

A firm knock broke the quietness.

“Room service,” a deep voice called through the door.

Her lips curved faintly. “Come in,” she said.

The door opened, and he stepped inside, tall, broad-shouldered, his sleeves rolled to the elbow. The silver tray in his hands seemed almost weightless the way he carried it, though steam curled up from the coffee pot as if reminding them both why he was here. His eyes moved over the room, then caught on her, sprawled in bed, sunlight catching the edges of her golden hair.

He set the tray at the foot of the bed. The scent of fresh coffee drifted between them, blending with the warm trace of his cologne. Natalie leaned forward, her fingers brushing his as she took the carafe from him, her touch light but intentional.

“Do I sign here?” she asked, tapping the bill holder with a manicured nail.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

She tilted her head, holding his gaze a fraction too long. “Or,” she murmured, her tone dipping lower, “I could skip the paper... and just be your tip.”

A look of surprise crossed his face, followed quickly by the hint of a smile. “And what would that entail?” His voice was different now, softer, but edged with curiosity.

Natalie didn’t answer right away. She toyed with the belt of her robe, twisting the soft fabric between her fingers as her eyes stayed locked on his. “So,” she said at last, her voice smooth, “what’s it going to be? Are you ready for the best tip you’ll ever get... and maybe a morning you’ll never forget?”

The pause that followed felt longer than it was. His gaze dipped briefly, collarbone, the looseness of the robe, the faint line of bare skin beneath, before returning to her eyes. He swallowed. “Yes.”

Her smile deepened, slow and certain. She shifted against the pillows, letting the moment breathe, her fingers working the belt with unhurried precision. The knot loosened, the robe relaxing in its hold. A subtle shift of her shoulders let the fabric part slightly, revealing the faintest ribbon of sunlight tracing down her chest before disappearing into shadow.

He didn’t move. His eyes followed the gradual reveal without meaning to, the air thick between them.

Natalie leaned back further, her movements smooth and languid. The robe slid wider, the fabric gliding over her skin like water spilling away, pausing at her elbows before slipping lower. The sunlight seemed to follow, spilling across her in warm, glowing lines until the robe lay in loose folds at her sides.

She kept her gaze locked on him, calm, in control, her breathing slow. The silence was almost heavy now, broken only by the faint hum of the vent and the soft clink of silverware when he shifted his stance.

Finally, when the robe had given her completely to the morning light, she let a small, knowing smirk curl her lips.

“Good,” Natalie whispered, her voice soft but certain. “Then don’t keep me waiting.”

He didn’t even bother undressing completely. Just the necessary, the belt, the black pants, the impossible stretch of anticipation in between. As he pulled his cock out, Natalie moved in front of him, and took his cock into her mouth. He was big, and hard already, and the shock of her lips, warm, open, unhesitating, made him groan almost immediately.

Natalie held him by the base, her palm pressing into the hot, silken skin, and swirled her tongue along the underside with the kind of patience that always left her partners wrecked. She watched his face as she worked, loving the way it turned slack, the way his eyelids fluttered when she grazed her teeth just enough to send a warning, then soothed away the threat with soft, wet laps.

She bobbed her head, slow at first, drawing it out, coaxing him to let go of whatever goddamn propriety he’d brought up the service elevator. He tried to stay quiet, tried to keep breathing steady, but she took him deeper, swallowing until she tasted the salt of him at the back of her tongue.

This time his hands found her head, one palm cupping the nape of her neck, the other bracing against her shoulder. Natalie could sense him wrestling with decorum, that fragile line between guest and staff, and relished the way it buckled each time she took him all the way, nose pressed to his stomach, heat rushing in her chest and thighs.

When he finally lost it, she tasted the start of his climax before she felt it, he tensed, legs trembling, and she wanted him undone, wanted the proof of it, so she didn't slow down even as he started to come down her throat.

The man was still hard though, and a few seconds later, they switched up positions, as Natalie’s breath shuttled out of her in a soundless gasp as he caught her by both ankles, hoisted her legs straight up, and spread her open with a kind of rude efficiency that should have made her feel at least a little humiliated.

The first push of him was blunt and inevitable, a pressure against her that wasn’t gentle but wasn’t careless either, just necessary, as though he’d been assigned this task and only now remembered how badly he wanted it. Natalie’s fingers scrabbled for the sheets as his cock pressed in and opened her, thick and hard and so much hotter than she’d braced for.

He gripped both her calves in one huge hand and used the other to pin her hip, holding her steady for the rhythm he set. Deeper, then deeper still, each slide measured but also urgent, as if there was something at the center of her he needed to reach. Natalie bit her lip to keep from sounding greedy, but it was useless, slick sounds and raw gasps leaking out with every drive of his body into hers. She could hear her own heartbeat spike in her ears, feel herself sweating in the pocket of sunlight that lay across the bed. Her nerves sang.

His shirt was still on, his cuff scraping at her thigh every time he braced to drive in deeper. He was all muscle, sweat beading on his brow, his jaw set with a kind of reverence that made her want to laugh and sob at once. The tray clattered imperceptibly on the edge of the bed with each of his thrusts. The coffee poured itself out of the carafe, a slow, fragrant drip pooling into the white saucer, steady as his hips and relentless as her mounting pulse.

He let out a hoarse, amused little sound when her ankle slipped from his grasp, then just bent over and caught it in his teeth, biting hard enough for her to feel it for the rest of the day. The sheets were twisted beneath her, her hands clinging to the mattress as leverage, and when the headboard knocked the wall she thought, let the neighbors complain if they’re awake at this hour, let them take notes.

Natalie locked her ankles at the small of his back, pulling him into her, her whole body thrumming as the headboard banged against the wall. She could taste him in her mouth still, a saline tang sharp at the back of her tongue, and the knowledge of it sent a bright bolt through her. The sheets bunched in her fists as she took him, groaning out the name on his badge, Sam, she thought, and smiled at the absurdity of ever letting him be anonymous again.

She felt it coming fast and hot, a tremor at first, then a hard spasm along her spine. Her body began to buck against him, a reflexive, involuntary scramble, every muscle tight as a wire. She choked on a scream, her throat raw with it as his cock kept sawing inside her, not slowing, not merciful, the friction against her so sharp and constant it tore her in half.

He fucked her harder, as if he could sense that edge and was determined to shove her over it. It worked, she broke with it, the orgasm hitting her so hard she lost time, the world narrowing to a single continuous feeling: rippling, blinding, a perfect, shattering whiteness.

The man shifted his position, pulled her knees higher and apart, his rough grip bruising in a way she’d remember, as if trying to split her open with his hands. Natalie locked her thighs around his hips and arched so hard the small of her back threatened to lift off the mattress. She stared up at the ceiling, spots blooming and bursting behind her eyelids, then forced herself to look, to see, because the face he made above her, brow knotted, lips parted, jaw tensed with effort and restraint, was almost as exquisite as the sensations detonating through her own body.

He let out a sound, guttural and short, and slammed all the way in, then held there, tremors rolling through his arms as he supported himself over her. Natalie clamped down around him, greedy for every last shiver of it. For a moment, they just breathed, the sweat slick between them enough to soak her hair back onto the pillow. She felt a pulse, then another, and then the damp sudden release as he finally spilled into her well fucked pussy.

A moment later, Natalie sagged back against the pillows, her body still trembling, every nerve alight from the storm that had passed through her. The sheets were tangled, damp and warm, clinging to her skin, the faint scent of him lingering in the air. She let out a slow, ragged breath, fingers tracing over the curve of her hip as she sank fully into the soft nest of pillows. For a moment, the room was silent again, save for the soft hum of the city outside. She closed her eyes and smiled, that same slow, knowing curl that had crossed her lips when it began, feeling utterly satisfied, utterly claimed… and completely, deliciously herself.

The End