I’d barely snapped the key card into the slot when I kicked off my heels and peeled off my jeans. The hotel room was all muted golds and deep reds, a bed big enough to get lost in. Fernando’s doing. Always over the top. My birthday trip to Vegas, all expenses paid, with a note that just said, “Wait for your surprise.” I grinned, already half-drunk on possibility, and pulled my little black dress from the suitcase. No bra. No panties. Nothing to slow me down if the night went where I hoped it would. The fabric slid over my skin like a dare, barely covering my ass, the neckline plunging so low I could feel the air conditioning on my nipples.
I checked myself in the mirror, running a hand through my hair, when the knock came. Three firm raps. My stomach flipped. I opened the door and there he was—a black man built like a sculpture, tall and broad, wearing a crisp hotel uniform that did nothing to hide the muscle beneath. His name tag said Marcus. His smile was slow and easy.
“Miss Isis? I’m here for your turndown service,” he said, voice deep as a bass line.
I frowned. “I didn’t call for that.”
“It’s a special request from a Mr. Fernando. Happy birthday.”
My mouth opened, then curved into a wicked smile. That beautiful, sneaky bastard. Fernando knew me better than anyone—knew the fantasy I’d whispered against his neck one afternoon, legs still shaking from a lunchtime fuck. A black man. Well-endowed. No strings, just skin. And here he was, delivered to my door like a gift with a bow.
I stepped back, letting Marcus inside. The door clicked shut behind him. Before I could say a word, he reached for his belt. The uniform came off in efficient, practiced movements—shirt, pants, shoes—until he stood before me in nothing but his own skin. My breath caught. His cock hung thick and heavy against his thigh, even at rest, a gorgeous dark length that made my mouth water. He took my hand, gentle but firm, and placed it right on him. The heat of it seared my palm. I wrapped my fingers around his shaft and felt him stiffen, swelling until I couldn’t close my hand.
“Holy fuck,” I breathed.
Marcus just watched me, that calm smile still in place. “Fernando said you’d like what you saw.”
I didn’t answer with words. I dropped to my knees, the dress riding up my thighs, and took him in my mouth. He groaned, a low rumble that vibrated through my tongue. I sucked him deep, gagging a little at the size, spit slicking his shaft as I worked him with my lips and hand. He tasted clean, a little salty, and I couldn’t get enough. My other hand slid between my legs, finding my clit already swollen and wet. I moaned around his cock, the vibration making his hips jerk.
“Goddamn, girl,” he muttered, fingers tangling in my hair. “You’re eager.”
I pulled off with a wet pop, looking up at him. “You have no idea. I’ve been thinking about this for years.”
He hauled me to my feet, spun me around, and bent me over the edge of that massive bed. My dress bunched at my waist, leaving my bare ass exposed. His hand came down on my cheek with a sharp smack that made me yelp, then moan as the sting melted into heat. He did it again, harder, and I pushed back against him, begging with my body.
“Please, Marcus. Fuck me.”
He didn’t make me wait. The head of his cock pressed against my pussy, spreading me open inch by excruciating inch. I cried out as he filled me, stretched me wider than I’d ever been. Fernando was good, but this—this was something else entirely. Marcus gripped my hips and started to move, slow at first, letting me feel every ridge and vein. Then faster. Harder. The sound of our bodies slapping together filled the room, wet and obscene.
“You like that big dick?” he grunted, slamming into me.
“Yes! Fuck, yes, don’t stop!”
I came within minutes, my pussy clenching around him, a scream tearing from my throat. He didn’t slow down. He flipped me onto my back, pushed my knees to my chest, and drove into me again while I clawed at the sheets. My dress was a twisted mess around my ribs. My tits bounced with every thrust. He leaned down and sucked one nipple into his mouth, biting just hard enough to make me gasp, and I came again, this time gushing around him so hard I soaked the bedspread.
We didn’t sleep that first night. We fucked on the bed, against the window overlooking the Strip, in the shower with water streaming over our skin. He took me from behind while I gripped the marble counter, my reflection a flushed, wild-eyed stranger. He ate my pussy until I was begging him to stop, then made me come one more time just because he could. By dawn, I was sore in the best way, my body humming with exhaustion and satisfaction.
The second day was more of the same. Room service came and went; we barely noticed. Marcus had a stamina that bordered on supernatural. He bent me over the couch, spread me out on the floor, lifted me against the wall with my legs wrapped around his waist. At one point I rode him slow, grinding down while he thumbed my clit, and I watched his face tense with pleasure as he emptied inside me, hot and pulsing. I’d lost count of how many times I’d come. My voice was hoarse from moaning his name.
When it was time for him to leave, I walked him to the door naked, my hair a rat’s nest, my thighs sticky. He kissed me once, deep and lazy, and slipped a card into my hand.
“In case you’re ever