Roommate's Silver Fox Claims His Costume-Party Tease

The bass from the downstairs speakers vibrated through the old Victorian house, but up here on the second floor the noise had softened into something distant and hazy. Mia’s red patent-leather heels clicked against the hardwood as she slipped away from the crowded living room, the tiny devil tail attached to the back of her costume swaying with each deliberate swing of her hips. The costume was criminal—crimson satin that barely covered the lower curve of her ass, a plunging corset top that pushed her full tits up like an offering, and little red horns perched in her dark waves. She knew exactly how she looked. She had dressed for one man only.

Derek had been watching her all night. She had made sure of it.

For weeks she had teased him mercilessly in the apartment they shared. Tiny sleep shorts that rode up when she bent to get coffee. “Accidental” brushes of her breasts against his arm while they cooked. Breathless little comments about how she loved older men who knew what they were doing. Derek—tall, silver-haired, broad-shouldered, with that deep architect’s voice that made her thighs clench—had remained a gentleman. Barely. His jaw would tighten. His eyes would darken. But he never touched her.

Until tonight.

She felt him before she saw him. The heat of a large body stepping into the dimly lit hallway behind her. The hallway was narrow, lined with closed bedroom doors and a single antique console table against the wall. A string of orange fairy lights cast everything in warm amber and shadow. Mia stopped, heart hammering, and slowly turned.

Derek stood there in his costume—simple black slacks, a tailored black shirt open at the throat, and a pair of sleek onyx horns that somehow made the silver at his temples look even more distinguished. A fallen angel, he had called it downstairs. To Mia he looked like sin itself.

“You’ve been a fucking menace all night,” he said, voice low and rough. He took one step closer, then another, until she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. “Grinding that tight little ass against me on the dance floor like you weren’t daring me to do something about it. You think I didn’t notice?”

Mia’s breath hitched. She wasn’t drunk. Neither was he. They had both stayed stone-cold sober, as if they both knew this confrontation had been coming for months and neither wanted alcohol to blur a single second of it.

“I was hoping you would,” she whispered. Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip. “I’ve been teasing you on purpose, Derek. For weeks. I wanted you to snap.”

His hand shot out, bracing against the wall beside her head, caging her in. The scent of him—cedar, expensive cologne, and something darker, masculine—flooded her senses. Up close he was even more devastating. The faint lines at the corners of his eyes, the strong cut of his jaw, the way his chest filled out that black shirt. Forty-eight years old and built like a man who still worked with his hands when he needed to.

“You have any idea what you’re asking for, little girl?” he growled. “I’m not one of those college boys downstairs. I’ve spent months jerking my cock raw to the thought of bending you over every surface in our apartment. If I touch you now, I’m not going to be gentle. I’m going to claim that sweet young cunt until you can’t walk straight.”

Mia’s knees nearly buckled. Heat flooded between her thighs, soaking the tiny red thong she wore beneath the costume. She reached up, fingers curling into the front of his shirt, and looked him dead in the eye.

“I’ve been fantasizing about your hands for months,” she confessed, voice trembling with raw honesty. “I touch myself at night thinking about how experienced you are. How you’d know exactly how to fuck me. I don’t want gentle, Derek. I want you to ruin me.”

The last word had barely left her lips before he moved.

His mouth crashed down on hers in a kiss that was all teeth and hunger. Mia moaned into it, opening for him instantly. His tongue swept in, claiming, dominating. One of his big hands dropped to grip her ass, fingers digging into bare flesh where the costume failed to cover her. He lifted her slightly, grinding the thick ridge of his cock against her stomach so she could feel exactly how hard he was.

When they broke apart for air, Mia didn’t hesitate. She slid down the wall until her knees hit the floor, looking up at him with wide, lust-drunk eyes. Her red lips parted.

“Let me show you how badly I’ve wanted this.”

Derek’s hand fisted in her dark hair, not pulling, but holding. Controlling. “Then suck it, baby. Show me what that filthy mouth can do.”

With shaking fingers she opened his slacks and freed him. His cock was thick, heavy, veined, the head already glistening. The sight of it made her mouth water. She leaned in and dragged her tongue slowly up the underside, savoring the salty taste of his skin, the way his thigh muscles jumped under her palm. When she reached the head she swirled her tongue around it before taking him into the wet heat of her mouth.

“Fuck,” Derek hissed, head tipping back. His grip in her hair tightened. “That’s it. Just like that. Look at me while you suck my cock, Mia.”

She obeyed, eyes locked on his as she bobbed her head, taking more of him each time. Her cheeks hollowed. Saliva slicked her chin. The hallway was quiet except for the wet, obscene sounds of her mouth and his low, ragged breathing. She pushed forward until he bumped the back of her throat and held there, swallowing around him, eyes watering but never breaking eye contact.

“Such a good little cocksucker,” he praised, voice gravel-rough. “All those weeks of teasing and you were just waiting to drop to your knees for me, weren’t you? My perfect young tease.”

Mia whimpered around his thickness, the praise making her clit throb. She reached between her own legs, rubbing herself through the soaked satin of her thong while she sucked him with messy enthusiasm. Derek watched every second of it, silver brows drawn tight, lips parted.

He finally pulled her off with a wet pop, breathing hard. “Enough. Get up.”