Mika recognized him the moment he walked in.
Mr. Hayama. Late 40s. Crisp charcoal suit. That same polished elegance that barely hid the ache in his eyes. He didn't see her at first — he was talking to the receptionist in that low, respectful tone he always used.
She felt something stir inside her. Not nerves. Not fear.
Excitement.
He'd come back. For her.
When Mika stepped into the private suite, he was already waiting.
The room was softly lit — warm gold lights, the scent of cedar in the air. Hayama stood near the window, facing the city skyline, hands in his pockets.
He turned at the sound of the door closing. His eyes landed on her — in her black satin robe, hair falling over one shoulder, mouth slightly parted.
She didn't say anything.
Neither did he.
But the energy between them shifted — thick with memory and want.
Mika crossed the room slowly, letting the silence stretch. She walked like she knew he wanted her — hips swaying, robe slipping just enough to reveal the curve of one bare thigh.
He didn't move.
But his breath deepened.
She stopped in front of him. Looked up into his face. Those dark eyes still held sorrow… but now, something else flickered there.
Need.
"Would you like me to undress you?" she asked softly.
Hayama hesitated — then nodded.
But she didn't reach for his jacket.
She reached for his hands, gently guiding them to her waist.
"You can undress me first," she whispered.
His fingers trembled as they untied the sash at her waist.
The robe slid open — and dropped to the floor.
Mika stood there naked in front of him, watching his gaze drop to her breasts, her stomach, the dark triangle between her thighs.
She stepped closer, closing the distance. Pressed her body against him — her bare nipples brushing his shirt. She could feel his cock already stiff beneath his trousers.
She reached down and cupped it through the fabric.
"You're hard already," she murmured. "Did you think about me?"
His mouth parted. "Yes…"
She smiled — a slow, dangerous thing.
"Then let me give you what you came back for."
She undressed him piece by piece.
First the jacket. Then the tie. Then the buttons of his shirt — slow and deliberate. Her fingers brushed his skin with each one, and she could feel the tension building in his chest.
He didn't stop her. He didn't speak.
When she knelt to unbuckle his belt, she kept her eyes on him the entire time — watching his control slip with every sound of leather and metal.
His cock sprang free when she pulled his briefs down. Thick. Veined. Fully erect.
Mika's mouth watered.
She wrapped her hand around the base and gave it one slow stroke.
Hayama let out a low, shaky breath.
"You like this," she whispered. "Being watched. Being touched by someone younger. Someone who enjoys making you fall apart."
He nodded. Barely.
Mika leaned forward and ran her tongue along the underside of his shaft — from base to tip — then swirled it around the head, teasing the slit.
"Fuck…" he groaned, his hand gripping her hair.
But Mika pulled back just before taking him into her mouth.
"Not yet," she said softly. "You're not going to cum in my mouth tonight."
She stood.
"I want you to fuck me like you mean it."
They moved to the bed.
Mika climbed onto it first, lying back and spreading her legs slowly — exposing herself completely. Her folds were already slick, glistening in the soft light.
Hayama knelt between her thighs, eyes devouring her.
She reached down and opened herself for him.
"Right here," she whispered. "Don't hold back. I can take you."
He guided his cock to her entrance — and paused, just brushing against her wetness.
Mika wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him in.
He sank into her slowly — thick and deep — and Mika moaned loud and long, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
"Ohh… fuuuck… yes… just like that…"
He thrust into her again. Harder this time.
And again.
And again.
The rhythm built — steady, powerful — his hips slapping against hers, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the room.
Mika met every thrust with a lift of her hips, her nails raking down his back, her moans getting louder.
"You feel so good," she gasped. "So fucking good inside me…"
His hands gripped her thighs. His pace quickened.
Her pussy clenched around him, sucking him in deeper with each stroke.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him down, and kissed him — messy, hungry, full of heat. Their tongues tangled. Their bodies moved as one.
"I'm gonna cum," he warned, breath ragged.
Mika pulled him even deeper. "Inside," she whispered. "I want it. Fill me."
That pushed him over the edge.
With a hoarse cry, he thrust one final time — hard and deep — and his cock throbbed inside her as he spilled every drop.
Mika came seconds later — body arching, moaning into his shoulder, her pussy pulsing around him as she rode the wave of his climax.
They lay together in silence, skin slick with sweat, hearts pounding.
Hayama didn't speak.
But his hand found hers and held it.
Mika smiled against his chest.
She hadn't just been fucked.
She had led him.
And it turned her on even more than she'd expected.