My hands closed around Isabella's waist as we stepped up to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The glass felt cool even through the thin silk of her dress. Fifty-one stories below, Los Angeles glittered like a circuit board of lights and shadows, stretching out toward the Pacific.

I spun her gently but firmly until her back faced me, pressing her against the glass. Her breath hitched as the cold surface met her skin, goosebumps rising along her arms. My body molded to hers—chest against her back, hips cradling her ass.

"Look," I murmured against her ear, my voice low and rough. "This is all yours."

My hands slid up her ribs, slowly, deliberately, gathering the delicate lace of her bodice. With a sharp tug, I tore the fabric apart. It fell away, leaving her bare breasts exposed to the cool glass. I guided her forward until her chest pressed flush against the window—soft flesh meeting hard surface.

Her gasp fogged the glass in front of her. Through the distorted haze, she could see the sprawling city below.

"See that?" Her reflection nodded, eyes wide and dark. "I see it—"

"Feel it?" My palms covered her breasts, thumbs brushing her hardened nipples. "Own it."

Isabella arched back into me, a soft moan escaping her lips as she began to move. Not a grind, but a slow, sensual dance of her hips—rolling against my trapped erection in a rhythm that made my breath catch.

Up. Down.

Side to side.

Figure eights that made my cock throb against the seam of my pants.

Her bare breasts dragged against the glass with each movement, leaving trails of condensation that marked her territory. Her arms lifted, hands sliding up the glass, bracing herself as she moved. The city lights caught in her skin—making her glow like she was burning from within.

"That's it," I growled, fingers tightening on her hips. "Rock against me. Feel every inch."

Her head fell back against my shoulder, eyes fluttering closed. "Peter..."

I watched her reflection in the glass—watched the way her body undulated, the way her muscles tensed and relaxed. The friction through our clothes was maddening. For every movement of her hips, I pressed forward slightly, meeting her with more pressure.

Her breath hitched. "More," she breathed.

I slid one hand down her stomach, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of her dress. No panties—just wet heat meeting my fingers. I found her clit, already swollen and slick from her dance, and rubbed slow circles.

Isabella cried out, her hips bucking wildly against my hand against my cock.

"Yes!" Her fingers splayed wider on the glass, leaving streaks that spread like cracks in a frozen lake. "Oh god, yes!"

Her dance became more frantic now—less sensual, more desperate. She ground harder against me, her pussy grinding against my trapped erection while I worked her clit faster. The glass beneath them fogged completely, hiding their reflections from the city below.

"Peter! Peter! I'm going to—" Her whole body tensed, back arching violently as she shattered. Her inner walls clenched around nothing, but I felt her pussy spasm against my fingers, gushing onto my hand as her cries echoed through the penthouse.

Isabella shuddered against me, her body going limp as her orgasm consumed her. Her bare breasts slid against the fogged glass, leaving trails of moisture as she panted. The city lights still twinkled beyond, but for a moment, they were just background to the private show we'd just performed against fifty-one stories of glass.

I held her there, pressed against the window, feeling the aftershocks tremble through her body. "Welcome home."

She turned her head just enough to look at me over her shoulder, her eyes heavy with satisfaction. "Welcome home... to both of us."

The words hung in the air, heavy with satisfaction and possession. Welcome home... to both of us.

Isabella turned her head just enough to look at me over her shoulder, her eyes still dark and hazy with the aftershocks of her climax. Then she moved. Gracefully, deliberately sinking to her knees on the marble floor, the expensive fabric of her torn dress pooling around her. Her hands weren't shaky now; they were steady, filled with purpose.

Without a word, she reached for my belt. The buckle clicked open under her fingers—a sharp, metallic snap that echoed in the quiet aftermath. The zipper followed, rough denim parting effortlessly. She didn't waste time teasing.

She hooked her fingers into the waistband of my boxers and ripped them down.

My cock sprang free—thick, veined, utterly magnificent. It slapped heavily against her cheek with a wet thwack, making her gasp.

Her eyes locked onto it—a monster of flesh, the broad head flushed dark purple and weeping a clear bead of pre-cum that caught the low light like liquid diamond. Thick veins snaked up the shaft, pulsing with my heartbeat. It wasn't just big; it was impossibly beautiful in its raw, primal power.

A low groan rumbled in my chest at the sight of her face—so close to this pillar of my desire.

Then her mouth was on me.

No slow exploration. No tentative licks. She simply opened wide and took me. One smooth, deep slide that buried half my length into the scorching heat of her mouth. A choked moan escaped me, vibrating through her lips, around my cock.

The sensation was incredible—slick, tight velvet walls closing around me, her tongue flattening against the thick underside vein as she began to move.

Her head bobbed, establishing a rhythm that left no room for patience. Her cheeks hollowed with every pull back, creating a seal that made an obscene, wet slurp with every downstroke. She took me deeper with each pass, her throat relaxing, relaxing, allowing the thick head to breach the tight opening. Each time I hit the back of her throat, she paused—a guttural glllk vibrating around my cock, an electric jolt that shot straight up my spine.

"Fuck, Isabella..." I breathed out, the sound rough, my hands tangling in her dark hair, anchoring myself as I watched her worship my cock with her mouth. The sight was mesmerizing: her lips stretched obscenely wide around my girth, the flush rising on her cheeks, tears welling in the corners of her eyes from the depth of her effort.

Drool escaped the corners of her mouth, mixing with my pre-cum, dripping down her chin in thick, glistening strings.

"Take it, Pet," I growled, my voice thick with need. "Show me how much you love your new home."

She redoubled her efforts. Faster. Deeper. Her nails dug into my thighs, leaving crescent marks.

The lewd symphony filled the penthouse—wet gluck-gluck-gluck sounds punctuated by her muffled moans, the gagging gllgks as she forced me deeper.

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