Closing the Deal Pt. 02

It had been four days since the first viewing. Four days of restless sleep, short fuses, and moments where Oscar caught himself staring too long at the hallway mirror -- imagining Maya's lipstick smudged across his skin, the taste of her still on his mouth.

She hadn't called.

She didn't need to.

The second viewing was booked through the agency -- same time, same place. But this time, she was already waiting downstairs when he arrived, standing beside the entrance to the basement with a clipboard tucked under her arm and a look that said everything words wouldn't dare.

"Glad you came back," she said, that same satin-smooth tone sliding between them like a secret.

"I couldn't stop thinking about it."

Her smile was slow and dangerous. "That's the idea."

She turned and descended the stairs, stilettos echoing off the narrow walls as she led him into the low-lit space below the house. The basement was cooler, dimmer, with exposed stone along one side and modern fittings on the other -- a strange mix of raw and refined.

Maya turned once they reached the middle of the room. Her pencil skirt clung like paint, and her blouse was buttoned high, but tighter today. Dark lipstick. Hair pinned up. Her whole posture radiated control.

"No distractions this time," she said softly. "No tour. No talking about square footage."

She walked to him slowly, then stopped just inches away.

"Did you think about me?" she asked. "After I left?"

Oscar didn't answer -- he couldn't. Not when her hands were already at his belt, unfastening him like it was a promise she intended to keep.

"I thought about you," she whispered, lowering herself down to her knees in front of him. "Thought about how close I got..."

She undid his zip and tugged his trousers down, then looked up at him as her fingers curled around his already growing length.

"I wanted to finish what I started."

Oscar groaned as she stroked him slowly, her palms warm, her nails just grazing.

"Keep your hands at your sides," she said. "You're not touching me yet."

Then she leaned in.

Her lips parted, hot breath rolling across his tip before she kissed it -- once, softly -- then again, her tongue flicking out to tease. She took him into her mouth inch by inch, eyes never breaking contact, her heels pressing into the floor as she settled deeper between his legs.

Her rhythm was slow at first, deliberate. Her lips glided, her tongue worked in circles. Every time she reached the base, she moaned softly, sending vibrations through him that made Oscar's legs tremble.

"Fuck, Maya--"

She gripped his thighs tighter and sped up just slightly, saliva trailing down her chin now as she took him deeper, her lipstick leaving faint stains along his shaft.

Oscar's hands clenched at his sides.

She was relentless.

Sin incarnate on her knees, stilettos biting into concrete, skirt stretched tight around her thighs, the arch of her back perfect as she devoured him with calculated grace.

He tried to warn her.

"I'm close..."

But Maya didn't pull away. She just looked up at him, eyes smouldering, and took him all the way until he lost control -- coming hard with a groan, hips twitching, legs weak.

She swallowed every drop.

Slowly. Intentionally.

Then she licked her lips and rose to her feet, perfectly composed, brushing a fingertip along the corner of her mouth.

"I think you're starting to see the value of this property," she said, buttoning her blouse again, not a single word out of place.

Oscar could barely stand straight.

Maya leaned in, adjusting his collar for him.

"One more viewing," she whispered. "Next time... we test the bed."

Another four Days later...

The front door was already ajar.

Oscar stepped inside without knocking. There was no need for formalities anymore.

He heard her heels first -- that unmistakable click... click... click on the hardwood floor above -- then saw her at the top of the stairs.

Maya.

Dressed in black this time. A body-hugging off-shoulder dress, stockings shimmering faintly under the soft lighting, and those same stilettos -- tall, pointed, utterly unforgiving. Her lipstick was deeper now, her eyes darker, sharper.

"You're late," she said, voice smooth, seductive.

Oscar said nothing. He didn't need to.

She turned and walked toward the bedroom, every step deliberate, her heels slicing the silence like punctuation. He followed without hesitation.

The master bedroom was dimly lit, warm. The bed was made -- freshly, precisely, as if she'd done it herself just for this.

Maya turned slowly at the foot of the bed.

"Did you come to see more of the property," she asked, "or are you ready to take ownership?"

Oscar closed the distance between them. "I think you know the answer."

"Good," she said, stepping into him. "Then let's make this official."

Her fingers found the buttons on his shirt, undoing them with methodical ease. She peeled the fabric back, her touch feather-light over his chest. Then came the belt, the zip, the soft shuffle of trousers falling to the floor.

She didn't rush.

She made him stand there while she looked at him -- completely in control, her heels keeping her tall and powerful.

Then she reached up, slid the dress off her shoulders with a slow, sensual shrug, and let it pool around her hips. It stayed there -- tight, clinging, accentuating her every curve. Her bra was black lace, barely hiding anything. Her thong matched, barely there at all.

And her heels never came off.

She stepped toward him again, her hands guiding him backward until the backs of his knees met the bed.

"Lie down," she commanded.

He did.

She straddled him -- heels still on, the arch of her foot pressing into the mattress beside his hip, making her thighs flex, making her body ride higher, more dominant. She rolled her hips once, then again, dragging her soaked centre over his shaft, her breath catching.

Oscar's hands gripped her waist. Maya let him.

"You've wanted this since the first moment you saw me," she whispered.

He groaned.

"I could feel it. The way you looked at my legs. At my heels."

She guided him into her with a long, slow thrust -- inch by inch, sliding down onto him until he was buried inside her.

She didn't break eye contact.

Her body started to move -- slow at first, grinding down in perfect, controlled circles. Her heels dug into the mattress, giving her leverage as she rode him deeper, faster. Every motion was precise. Powerful.

Her breasts bounced in rhythm, her moans slipping into the air like music. She leaned forward, bracing her hands against his chest as she fucked him harder, taking exactly what she wanted.

Oscar bucked beneath her. "Fuck, Maya--"

"Don't stop," she panted. "Don't even think about it."

She clenched around him, her pace becoming frantic, her body trembling as her climax tore through her in waves -- and she kept going. Refusing to let up until he groaned loud beneath her, spilling inside her as his back arched and his fingers dug into her hips.

Maya collapsed forward slightly, her body slick with sweat, hair tousled, lipstick smudged. Her heels still on.

She pressed a kiss to his throat, then whispered, breath hot against his skin:

"I assume you'll be making an offer."

Oscar laughed softly, still breathless. "Yeah. I will."

She sat up again, dragging her fingers down his chest, smug and glowing.

"Good boy," she said.