The motel room smelled like cheap air freshener and the faint musk of sex—our sex. The kind that lingers in the sheets long after you’ve rolled off each other, breathless and grinning like idiots. I stretched my arms above my head, the thin strap of my thong digging just enough into my hip to remind me it was still there. The AC hummed, but the heat between us was already cranking up again.
Fernando lay sprawled on the bed, one arm tossed over his eyes, the other resting on his stomach where the trail of dark hair disappeared beneath the rumpled sheet. He was still catching his breath from the last round, but I knew better than to think he was done. Men his age—experienced, patient, hungry—they didn’t tap out after one orgasm. They savored. They took their time. And God, did I love that about him.
“I’ve got something for you,” I said, swinging my legs off the mattress. The cool air hit my bare skin, and I shivered, but not from the temperature. His gaze snapped to me as I stood, the thong doing little to hide the way my ass flexed with every step toward my purse. I bent over—slow, deliberate—letting him get an eyeful while I rummaged inside. The sharp inhale he made was all the confirmation I needed. Yeah, he liked the view.
“Happy early Father’s Day,” I purred, tossing a small, wrapped box onto the bed beside him. His eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t move to grab it yet. Just stared at me, then at the box, then back at me like he was trying to figure out if I was serious.
“You didn’t have to—”
“I know.” I cut him off with a smirk, crossing my arms under my tits and pushing them together just enough to make his eyes flicker down. “Open it.”
He tore the paper with more enthusiasm than a man his age should’ve had for a gift, but then again, I’d learned Fernando wasn’t like most men. The lid flipped open, and he froze. His fingers hovered over the black lace, the delicate straps, the sheer panels that left nothing to the imagination. “Elena,” he groaned, voice rough. “This is lingerie.”
“Mhm.” I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my thong and shimmied it down my legs, stepping out of it with a slow wiggle of my hips. “And you’re gonna watch me try it on.”
His cock twitched against his thigh, already half-hard again. I loved how responsive he was—how eager. Most guys my age would’ve been too busy pretending they weren’t desperate, but Fernando? He didn’t hide it. He wanted. And fuck, did that make me wet.
The first set was a black garter belt with stockings, the lace cupping my tits like a second skin. I turned for him, letting him see the way the straps framed my ass, how the stockings hugged my thighs. His fingers curled into the sheets, knuckles white. “Jesus, mija,” he muttered. “You’re trying to kill me.”
“Not yet.” I crawled onto the bed, straddling his hips, my pussy hovering just above his thickening cock. “First, I wanna ride you.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. One hand gripped my hip, the other guided himself to my entrance, and then I was sinking down, stretching around him with a gasp. The lace dug into my skin as I rocked, my tits bouncing with every roll of my hips. Fernando’s hands were everywhere—palming my ass, tweaking my nipples through the fabric, pulling me down harder when I tried to slow the pace.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he growled, thrusting up to meet me. The bed creaked, the headboard knocking against the wall in a rhythm that matched my moans. I could feel the orgasm building, coiling tight in my belly, but I wasn’t ready to let go yet. Not until he was right there with me.
I pulled off, ignoring his protest, and reached for the next set—a red teddy with cutouts over my nipples and a slit that barely covered my pussy. His eyes darkened as I stepped into it, the fabric clinging to my damp skin. “You’re a fucking tease,” he rumbled, but his hand was already on his cock, stroking himself as he watched me.
“And you love it.” I dropped to my knees in front of him, tugging his hand away so I could take over. My tongue swirled over the head, tasting the salt of him, before I took him deep, hollowing my cheeks. His fingers tangled in my hair, guiding me, but I set the pace—slow, then fast, then slower again, until his thighs were trembling.
“Enough,” he gasped, hauling me up. The teddy tore a little as he yanked it aside, but neither of us cared. He spun me around, bending me over the edge of the bed, my ass in the air. The first slap made me yelp, the sting radiating through me, but the second had me pushing back, begging for more. His fingers found my pussy, slick and swollen, and he groaned. “So fucking wet for me.”
Then he was inside me again, this time from behind, his balls slapping against my clit with every thrust. The bedframe groaned, the whole room shaking with the force of it. I came with a cry, my nails scraping the sheets, my pussy clenching around him so tight he followed with a groan, spilling deep inside me.
We collapsed in a tangle of limbs and torn lace, my heart hammering against his chest. Fernando traced idle patterns on my hip, his breath warm against my temple. “Best Father’s Day gift I’ve ever gotten,” he murmured.