The word escaped before she could stop it—raw, desperate, a plea wrapped in surrender.

The footsteps stopped.

She kept her eyes closed. Couldn't look at him. If she looked, she'd either send him away forever or do something irreversible—or beg him to fuck her right here on the kitchen floor.

"What would happen?" Her voice was so quiet, trembling. "If I said yes. If I was… honest."

The silence that followed felt like an eternity—charged, electric, thick with the scent of her arousal hanging heavy in the air.

"Whatever you wanted to happen," he finally said, voice low and steady—rough with restrained hunger. "This only works if you choose it. If you ask for it. I don't take, Ms. Chen. I only give what's requested—every touch, every lick, every inch of my cock inside you, exactly how you beg for it."

She opened her eyes. Found him standing by the door, backlit by morning sun streaming through windows—and he looked like temptation made flesh, like the kind of choice that would ruin her and make her feel alive for the first time in years.

"That's—" She laughed breathlessly, the sound turning into a soft, involuntary moan as her pussy clenched again. "That's either very respectful or very manipulative."

"It's both, maybe?" He smiled—slow, devastating, eyes dark with promise. "Most true things are."

War played out across her features—want versus should, desire versus consequence, the woman she was versus the woman she'd been taught to be—her body screaming for release while her mind scrambled for reasons.

"I need to think," she said finally, voice shaking, hands pressing between her thighs without thinking, trying to ease the relentless ache.

"Take all the time you need."

"Will you—" She stopped. Swallowed hard. "Will you come back? Tomorrow?"

"If you want me to."

"I shouldn't want you to."

"That's not an answer, Ms. Chen." His voice dropped lower, eyes locked on hers with burning intensity. "Do you want me to come back—to finish what we started, to give you everything you're aching for right now?"

She didn't answer. Couldn't. Just stood there, thighs pressed tight, pussy throbbing, nipples aching, body on fire with the truth she wasn't ready to say out loud.

But her silence said everything.

She took a breath. Let it out slow—a shaky exhale that trembled through her parted lips, her chest heaving as the heat between her thighs refused to cool.

Made a choice that wasn't really a choice because her body had already decided—her pussy throbbing relentlessly, soaked panties clinging to swollen folds, nipples aching stiff against her tank top—even if her mind was still pretending to resist.

"Yes." The word came out steady. Clear. But then it broke open, raw and desperate, her voice husky with need. "Come back tomorrow. Please. Come back and fuck me! Peter!"

Her cheeks flushed hot, eyes darkening with shock and lust at her own boldness, but she didn't take it back—couldn't, with the way her clit pulsed at the sound of the words, a fresh rush of wetness flooding her already drenched core.

He nodded—slow, deliberate, his gaze raking over her one last time, lingering on her flushed face, her heaving breasts, the subtle press of her thighs together. Started for the door again, then paused.

Looked back with an expression that promised everything and nothing—dark eyes burning with restrained hunger, lips curved in a knowing smile that made her pussy clench hard.

"Ms. Chen?"

"Yes?" Her voice was breathless, barely above a whisper, her body still humming with unspent desire.

"You're allowed to want things. Even things you're not supposed to want—like the way you want my cock buried deep inside you, making you come until you forget every rule. That doesn't make you a bad person. It makes you human."

The door closed behind him with a soft click.

The Hunter's engine roared to life outside—deep, powerful, vibrating through the floor and straight into her core like a promise.

And Ms. Chen stood alone in her son's kitchen—hands still shaking, heart racing wild in her chest, thighs pressed tight together to ease the relentless ache between them.

Her panties were ruined—completely soaked through, the thin cotton clinging transparently to her swollen lips, wetness trickling slow and warm down her inner thighs as her pussy pulsed with aftershocks of the tension that had built and never broken.

She'd been lying to herself, she realized—the truth crashing over her like a wave, hot and undeniable.

From the moment she'd seen him take off that helmet. From the first touch that had lasted too long—her palm burning with the memory of his warm skin. From the way her breath had caught when his eyes met hers—dark, knowing, stripping her bare.

She'd wanted this.

Not consciously. Not deliberately. But some part of her—some deep, buried part that had been starved for years—had recognized him as something other than Tommy's friend.

Had recognized him as a man—strong, beautiful, dangerous.

Had responded to him as a woman—her body alive with need, nipples throbbing, pussy weeping with desperate arousal at every look, every word, every brush of proximity.

And tomorrow, she'd have to decide if she was brave enough to stop pretending otherwise—to spread her legs for him, to let him bury his face between her thighs, to take his cock deep inside the pussy that ached for him now like it had never ached for anyone.

The soup sat forgotten on the counter.

Growing cold.

Like the rules she'd followed her whole life.

Like the denial she couldn't maintain anymore—crumbling under the weight of her own desire, leaving her wet, trembling, and aching for tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

She'd decide tomorrow—or surrender completely.

Tonight, she'd just remember what it felt like to be seen as something other than a mother—to be wanted, craved, lusted after by the young man who had once been a boy in her home.

And try not to touch herself as she replayed every moment—try not to slide her fingers into her soaked panties and come hard to the thought of him finally giving her everything she'd just begged for.

But her hand was already drifting downward, trembling with need.

And she knew she wouldn't win that fight either.

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