Angel didn’t expect anything elaborate on her birthday — just a night that would leave her aching in all the right places. When Alex showed up at her door, uninvited and empty-handed, she raised a brow.
“No gift?” she teased, standing in nothing but a robe, curves barely contained, red curls tumbling over her chest.
Alex grinned. “Didn’t bring one.” He stepped inside, closed the door behind him with a click. “But I’ve got something better. I’m gonna ruin you tonight.”
She didn’t hesitate — she dropped the robe like it insulted her skin.
Minutes later, Angel stood tall a step away from the bed, her back arched, legs slightly parted, offering herself with shameless hunger. Alex was behind her, looming like a shadow of pure need—muscles flexing, his cock thick, hard, and glistening with anticipation. He gripped her hips and slid into her with a low groan, her gasp sharp and electric as her body welcomed him, already soaked and eager.
“Goddamn,” she breathed, biting her lower lip as her hand slid down to wrap around his length. “No wonder you walk like you own the room. This thing’s a weapon.”
Alex smirked and eased himself between her legs. “And you’re about to feel every inch of it.”
He didn’t rush. He pressed in slow, letting her stretch around him, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt. Angel gasped, her nails raking down his back.
“Fuck, yes… you fill me so good,” she moaned. “You’re thick as hell, baby. My pussy’s already fluttering around you.”
Alex moved with the confidence of a man who knew what he was doing—and loved doing it. He gripped her hips and rolled into her with deep, deliberate thrusts, drawing out every whimper, every twitch of pleasure. Angel arched her back, thighs trembling, and wrapped her legs around him to pull him deeper.
She came once—then again—with him barely breaking a sweat, each orgasm wringing her voice into gasps and praises. By the time she rode him, her hands planted on his chest and her breasts bouncing with every stroke, she was drenched, wild-eyed, riding the edge of madness.
“You’re fucking incredible,” she growled between moans, sweat dripping down her body. “Best damn birthday I’ve ever had.”
They didn’t notice the front door open.
Jesse stood there, taking in the scene. Khari beside him, arms crossed, eyes lit with curiosity—and heat.
“Well,” Jesse chuckled, “you started the party without us.”
Angel looked over her shoulder, hair plastered to her neck, lips parted. “Get naked,” she said. “And bring that tongue, Jesse. Khari, baby… you too. I want all of you.”
The bed became a playground of lust, limbs wrapped over limbs, mouths chasing moans. At one point, Alex lay flat, Angel grinding on him with abandon, her hands behind her, spreading herself wide for Jesse to slide into her ass. She gasped, overstuffed and shivering with pleasure, while Khari straddled her face and leaned in, letting Angel suckle her full breasts.
Alex groaned, head buried in the softness of Khari’s chest, his cock pulsing deep inside Angel. She was dripping, squeezing him, a mess of sweat, moans, and filth—and she loved every second of it.
Later, Jesse had Angel folded in the anvil position, thighs pressed to her chest, pounding her from below while Alex took Khari from behind. The room echoed with the slap of skin on skin, the mix of voices like a choir of sin.
Then they switched.
Now Alex was the one holding Angel in the same position, sweat pouring down his chest as he thrust hard and deep, driving moan after moan out of her until she shattered around him, soaking his cock.
“Alex, fuck—you’re splitting me open,” she cried. “Don’t stop—keep going—make me cum again!”
Khari had dropped to the foot of the bed, sucking on Angel’s toes while Jesse stood beside them, feeding his thick shaft into her mouth. Angel sucked hungrily, her body used and worshipped from every angle.
And still, it wasn’t over.
At the final crescendo, Jesse lay on the bed with Angel sprawled over him, her back pressed to his chest. He slid into her tightest place, slow and possessive. Khari lowered herself over Angel, kissing her, wrapping her in arms and lips and heat.
Then Alex stepped up behind them both.
Khari and Angel were perfectly aligned — one dripping wet, the other flushed and needy. He gripped them both by the hips, and slid between their thighs. He switched between them slowly at first, savoring the contrast—Angel’s soaked warmth, Khari’s tight velvet heat. Again. And again. Back and forth, driving into one, then the other, until both women were moaning, trembling, falling apart together.
Then he groaned deep, hips twitching, and filled them both with thick pulses of release, shuddering as they milked him dry.
The four collapsed into a heap of breathless, sweaty limbs.
No candles. No presents.
But no one would forget this birthday.
Ever.
