I was right in the middle of a complex nine-person sex scene. Fingers flying over the keys, I was deep in it, so far gone I barely registered the world around me.

Which is normal. That’s what I do when I come here, sink into a back corner of my favourite coffee shop, Black Honey, order something caffeinated and sweet, pop in my headphones, and lose myself in the dirtiest parts of my imagination. No one really pays attention to the quiet girl with the glasses in the corner.

Except. Apparently, someone did.

I didn’t notice him until the cup slid across my table. A soft thud, followed by the scrape of wood on wood as someone sat down across from me.

I pulled out one earbud and blinked. My screen still glowed, lighting my face, the cursor blinking after the words “he groaned as her nails dug into his back.”
Shit.

Liam grinned at me, a stupid confident grin that made girls tip too much and linger too long at the counter. His sleeves were rolled up, tattooed arms folded as he leaned casually across the table.

“Two pumps, extra cream,” he said, sliding the Frappuccino toward me.

I stared at it. Then at him.

“What?” I managed, eloquently.

He shrugged. “Thought you could use a cold drink. You looked, warm.”

My face flushed so fast it felt like I'd been slapped. I reached for the drink just to have something to do with my hands, pretending I wasn’t imagining him saying that line in an entirely different context.

“Thanks,” I said. My voice cracked halfway through. I looked around. Empty tables. Chairs turned up. Lights low. Music off.  “I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“You were really into your work,” he said, in a smooth, teasing tone that made my stomach flip. “Didn’t have the heart to interrupt. Everyone else cleared out about twenty minutes ago.”
Jesus.

“I, I’m sorry,” I stammered, pushing up my glasses. “You should’ve kicked me out.”

“Nah.” He rested his chin in his hand. “I was curious what you were working on. Must have been good for you to be so engrossed.”

My stomach sank. “Oh. It’s nothing, really. Just dumb stuff.”

He tilted his head, eyes flicking toward my still-open laptop. I made a subtle move to angle the screen away.

“Didn’t look dumb,” he said. “Looked like some kind of group sex at a wedding?”

I nearly choked on the Frappuccino. My heart beating double time.

He grinned wider, clearly enjoying my impending cardiac event. I hated him a little for it. And maybe hated myself for liking it.

“I wasn’t trying to read it,” he added, lifting his hands in mock innocence. “It’s just, you had the font cranked up and the word orgy was in bold.”

I made a sound that might’ve been a laugh, or a dying bird.

“I write,” I muttered, as if that explained everything.

“You don’t say.”

I laughed. Or tried to. It came out a little strangled. “It’s not, I mean, it’s just a draft.”

Liam raised an eyebrow. “A nine-person draft?”

He was enjoying this far too much. My entire face felt like it was glowing. He must have read quite a bit to realise there were nine people involved. I tugged at the collar of my shirt, suddenly way too aware of how much skin was showing. Not that I had much cleavage to distract him with, but still. I straightened my spine, even as my insides curled like paper in flame.

“It’s work,” I said, pretending to be very invested in my drink. “Just part-time. Selling erotica pays better than copyediting.”

Liam leaned back in his chair like he’d just gotten the juiciest piece of gossip all week. “So, you’re telling me you write sex for a living?”

“I write stories,” I corrected. “With sex in them.”

He tilted his head. “So, is the group wedding scene based on experience, or pure imagination?”

That earned him a glare over the rim of my cup. “Imagination,” I said, maybe a little too fast.

He nodded solemnly, lips twitching like he was trying not to laugh. “Shame.”

There was a pause. Not awkward, but, charged. He drummed his fingers lightly on the table, eyes still on me.

“I always figured you were working on something cool,” he said, quieter now. “Didn’t peg you for that genre, though.”

“I’m not sure what genre it is when the bride and maid of honour are having a blowjob contest.” I said, trying to diffuse the growing tension.

That got a laugh out of him. “Sounds like required reading.”

I should’ve ended it there. Closed my laptop. Thanked him for the drink and run home to die of mortification in peace. But instead, I asked:

“You ever read that kind of stuff?”

He shrugged. “I read everything. Lit major, remember?” He leaned in, voice low. “Not everything has to be Proust. Sometimes you just want to read something that gets your blood going.”

My brain short-circuited. He was so close. The café was so quiet. And I couldn’t decide if this was him just being charming, or something else.

“So,” he said, eyes twinkling. “How does the scene end?”

I blinked. “What?”

“The wedding scene. What's the climax?”

“I’m not reading it to you.”

“I didn’t ask you to.” He grinned, slow and wicked. “I'd be just as happy if you showed me.”

I froze. Then very quietly I said, “You’re serious?”

Liam’s gaze didn’t waver. “Completely.”

The air around us felt electric, like we were inside my laptop, like I was writing this scene, like I had written so many others.

I shifted in my seat, suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of skin. “You barely know me.”

He smiled at that, slow, warm, honest. “I know you come in three times a week. I know you always order something sweet but pretend like you might go for a black coffee one day. I know you pull your hair up when you’re stuck on a scene, and you bite your lip when you're writing something filthy.”

I swallowed. Hard.

“I know,” he continued, stepping forward, slow and careful, “that you write things that make you blush, and you keep doing it anyway. That’s hot as hell.”

My throat went dry.

“And yeah,” he said, now just a few feet away, “I have a thing for writers. But you, writing that, out in the open? Katie, that’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

I didn’t even realize I’d stood up until I was looking up at him, breath shallow. My laptop still glowed behind me as if the words on the screen were commanding me.

He reached out, fingertips brushing my jaw. “Tell me to stop. I will.”

I didn’t.

Instead, I stepped into him.

Our mouths met fast, like we’d both been thinking about it for far too long. He kissed like he talked, confident, a little smug, and devastatingly good. His hands slid into my hair, tugging the messy bun loose, letting it fall around my shoulders.

I made a soft, involuntary sound, and felt him smile against my lips.

Clothes disappeared in pieces. My blouse was tugged up and off, his fingers grazing my ribs like he wanted to memorize them. His apron hit the floor next, followed by his black shirt He wasn’t bodybuilder-chiseled, just lean and firm and so fucking warm.

His eyes stayed on mine, even as his hands slid to my waist, slowly working my jeans open.

We sank onto the padded bench by my table, tucked at the back of the café, far enough from the big front window to not be immediately visible although anyone paying attention could probably see us.

The thought made my heart pound harder.

Liam bent down, pressing his mouth to my neck, his voice rough against my skin. “Do you know how many times I thought about this? Watching you work, knowing what was on your screen? And then you’d look up and smile like butter wouldn’t melt.”

I shivered.

“Every time I saw you typing, flushed and focused, I wanted to pull up a chair and ask what you were writing.” He kissed the hollow beneath my ear. “But this? Watching your brain make the filth only a few feet away from me? Fuck, Katie, I've never been so turned on!"

By the time we were both undressed, I didn’t care if someone walked by and glanced in through the window. I didn’t care that my laptop was still open, a half-written orgy watching us.

I was too busy living a scene that could’ve come straight from it.

Liam slid to his knees in front of me. His hands settled on my thighs, warm and firm, thumbs tracing slow, lazy circles against my skin. My legs spread without thinking, heart racing like I was seconds from either dying or levitating.

He looked up at me, eyes dark, mouth already curved into that crooked grin.

“You’re really gonna let me do this right here?” he asked, voice soft but low, like it belonged under my skin. 

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but all that came out was a shaky exhale.

He leaned in and kissed the inside of my thigh. Not rushed. Not greedy. Just a long, deliberate drag of lips and tongue against my skin.

I whimpered. Actually whimpered.

Liam chuckled, and kissed higher.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, voice full of satisfaction. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Fuck,” I breathed. “Liam!”

He cut me off with another kiss, this one right at the edge of my knickers. Then he ran his nose along the seam, inhaling like he needed the scent of me to breathe.

“You’ve been sitting here for hours,” he murmured, pressing his mouth against the fabric, “typing out filthy little scenes, thinking no one noticed how red your cheeks got, how you shifted in your seat every time you wrote something dirty.”

My hips bucked as he dragged his tongue slowly over the damp cotton.

“I noticed,” he said. “Every time.”

He slid my knickers down slowly, keeping eye contact, like peeling me out of them was a ritual. When he finally exposed me, he let out a low, appreciative breath, like he was looking at something precious. 

Then his thumbs parted me, and I nearly came from that alone.

He didn’t dive in, not yet. First, he looked, spreading my lips gently, playing with the slick folds, watching my body react with every tiny touch. His fingers barely brushed over me, soft, teasing strokes that made my thighs twitch and my breath come in sharp bursts.

“Liam, please!” I begged

“You’re so wet,” he murmured. “Is this from your writing?”

I nodded, helpless. “Partly.”

He grinned, cocky as hell. “So some must be just for me.” Then he licked me. Slowly.

From the bottom up, his tongue moved in a single, languid stroke that made my entire body go taut. He kept it light at first, barely grazing over my clit, just enough to make me ache harder.

I moaned, loud, clutching the edge of the bench.

“Fuck yes,” I gasped, head falling back. “Liam. Just like that!”

He moaned into me in response. Then he did it again, another lick, this one firmer, followed by a kiss, then a slow swirl of his tongue that made my eyes roll back.

“Oh god! Yes! Please!”

He sucked my clit gently, then pulled away just as I was climbing. I let out a choked noise, half frustration, half desperation.

He grinned up at me, lips wet. “What’s wrong, writer girl? More used to the page than reality?”

“Liam,” I said, voice shaking. “Don’t make me beg.”

“Begging would be hot, though.”

He gave me one more long, teasing lick, then buried his mouth against me like he’d lost all patience, tongue pressing in deeper, working me with greedy precision. His fingers joined a moment later, two sliding into me, curling, finding that perfect spot.

I cried out, legs trembling, every muscle coiled tight.

He kept going, relentless now, tongue moving faster, fingers stroking deep and sure.

My hands buried in his hair, hips grinding against his mouth with no shame left to give.

“Ooh, fuck yes! Don’t stop!”

My orgasm hit hard and sudden, ripping through me like I’d been held underwater and just broke the surface. I came with a full-body shudder, thighs clamping around his head, voice breaking into helpless, breathless moans.

He kept licking me through it, slower now, dragging out every pulse and twitch until I couldn’t take any more.

When he finally pulled back, his face was slick, eyes wild, mouth grinning.

He rested his cheek on my thigh, grinning like he’d just passed some final exam with extra credit.

I couldn’t speak. I just stared at him, chest heaving, mouth open, brain melted.

Liam kissed my thigh one more time and looked up at me.

“That,” he said, “was better than anything I imagined.”

It should’ve left me breathless.

Instead, it lit something up in me.

I reached down, threaded my fingers into his hair, and tugged gently. “Your turn,” I whispered.

I stood, still a little shaky, legs trembling from the orgasm and nudged him gently toward one of the chairs. He followed without hesitation, dropping into it with a kind of eager tension, legs spread just enough.

I knelt in front of him, completely naked.

The cool air of the café kissed my skin, and for a moment, I felt everything all at once, my pulse in my throat, the stickiness between my thighs, the flush still burning across my chest. I was stripped bare in every sense, skin exposed, heart thudding, nowhere to hide.

Liam’s eyes roamed over me slowly, reverent, unfiltered, hungry.

Not just a glance. A look. The kind that drinks you in. That lingers.

He took in everything: the soft curve of my hips, the flat plane of my stomach rising and falling with each shaky breath, the faint swell of my small breasts, nipples tight from arousal and exposure. His gaze brushed over the way my thighs still trembled, the flushed pink of my skin, the wild mess of my hair falling loose around my shoulders, sweat-stuck and clinging.

And he looked like he loved all of it.

He looked at me like I was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen. My breath caught in my throat as he leaned forward slightly, his eyes dark, his voice low and reverent.

“Katie,  you look...” He exhaled, like he didn’t have the right words. “You look like something from a story.” And for once, I didn’t want to shrink. I didn’t want to cover my chest or look away or apologize for not looking like a porn star. I just knelt there, eager and flushed, and let him see me.

“Shh,” I said, licking my lips. “Let me show you how I’d write this story.”

His breath caught. He wasn’t smiling anymore. He was watching me like prey.

I palmed him through his boxers, just once. A gentle stroke that made his hips twitch and his breath stutter.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

I looked up at him, smiling sweetly. “You okay there?”

He hissed a laugh through his teeth. “You’re evil.”

“You started it.”

I pulled his boxers down, freeing him. God, he was already leaking; a strand of precum stretched from his swollen tip to his boxers as I pulled them down until it eventually broke. He was thick and flushed, twitching under my gaze like he could feel how hungry I was. And I was hungry. Ravenous.

I wrapped my fingers around him first, just a light grip, stroking slowly from base to tip, letting my thumb circle the head, spreading the precum there. He groaned low in his throat.

“I always write it like this,” I murmured, watching his cock twitch in my hand. “Slow. Teasing. Enough to make the reader scream before they even get to the good part.”

“You’re killing me,” he breathed.

I leaned in, lips parting, tongue flicking out to trace just under the head.

His hips jerked.

Then I took him into my mouth, just the tip, soft and wet and achingly slow. My lips wrapped around him with a moan I didn’t even mean to make, the taste of him warm, salty, intoxicating.

I sucked, light at first, tongue swirling, mouth wet and open as I pulled back, then took a little more. My hand kept stroking the base, slick and firm, matching the rhythm.

“Jesus, Katie! Fuck, that’s so fucking good!”

I went deeper, lips sliding down his shaft, tongue pressed along the underside, my free hand bracing against his thigh as I started to move with real intent. His moans were ragged now, sharp exhales through clenched teeth, head falling back against the chair.

He was trying not to fuck my mouth.

I felt the way his muscles tensed, the way his breath shuddered when I swallowed around him and let a deep moan hum from my throat.

“Oohh fuck! Ohhh fucking fuck!”

I pulled back slowly, licking him from base to tip like a damn lollipop, then wrapped my lips around the head again, sucking harder this time, stroking him with one hand, the other cupping his balls with gentle pressure.

My hand gripped the base of his cock, moving in sync with my mouth, slick and confident now. I could feel him holding himself back, his legs tense, fingers white-knuckled on the arms of the chair, like letting go would be too much, too soon.

He wanted to fuck my mouth. Badly.

I could feel it in the way his hips flexed, how he kept stopping himself just before he bucked forward. I moaned around him, low and dirty, letting the vibrations wrap around him like heat.

“Fuck, Katie!” he gritted, jaw tight. “You keep doing that, I’m gonna, fuuuck!”

I didn’t stop. I went harder, deeper, tongue pressed against the underside of his cock as I took more of him, hand twisting at the base just the way I wrote it. 

And then, he broke. He grunted, and his hips jerked forward with a force that made my eyes water. He thrust into my mouth once, deep, hard, and then again a second time, rougher, hitting the back of my throat.

I gagged around him, wet and loud, tears springing to the corners of my eyes.

“Shit! Katie! Fuck! Fuck!”

He pulled back, but it was too late, he was already coming. Hot, pulsing ropes spilled onto my tongue, then over my lips. The next thick spurt hit my cheek, then another splashed across my chin.

I stayed there on my knees, mouth open, chest rising and falling, his cum streaking my face, as I looked up at him with a dazed, satisfied smile.

He was panting, wrecked, blinking down at me like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

I wiped a drop from the corner of my mouth with my thumb and sucked it clean.

“I like the coffee,” I said, grinning wickedly, “but that was a much more fun two pumps with extra cream.”

Liam chuckled and slumped back in the chair, chest heaving, face flushed, hair a mess from where I’d fisted it earlier.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face. “That was amazing!”

I sat back on my heels, smiling smugly before rising and sitting back on the padded bench where he joined me.

His hand reached for me automatically, fingers trailing up my thigh again. I was still flushed, still soaked, my whole body buzzing.

“You’re ready to go again?” he asked. 

I just raised an eyebrow. “You planning to do something about it?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he said, sliding his hand between my legs.

I gasped as a finger brushed over my labia. He stroked me gently at first, just enough to make me squirm, then pressed in slowly, curling upward with delicious pressure.

“God,” I moaned, leaning forward onto his thigh, forehead resting there as I rocked my hips into his hand. 

His finger moved in slow, deep strokes, dragging over the spot that made me clench around him, that sent sparks across every nerve ending. I shuddered, hips twitching, mouth open.

“Fuck, that’s, don’t stop,” I breathed.

“I’m not planning to.” His other hand cupped the back of my head, stroking my hair gently. “You should’ve seen your face earlier. When I said I’d read your screen.”

I let out a shaky laugh between moans. “I wanted to die.”

“Yeah? You didn’t look like you wanted to die when I had my mouth on you.”

A second finger joined the first as he curled them just right, and I whimpered, pressing closer. “You’re such a smug bastard.”

“Mmhm,” he murmured. “But you’re dripping for me anyway.”

I was. God, I was soaked around his fingers, the wet sounds of his strokes filling the space between our voices. 

He shifted slightly, and I saw him hardening again. I looked up, eyes wide, lips parted. “Already?”

“You’re fucking sexy,” he said, smiling. “And you’re moaning while I’ve got two fingers inside you. So yeah. Already.”

He slipped a third finger in, and I cried out, sharp, breathless. My thighs trembled around his hand, my body rolling with it, ready to shatter again. But I didn’t want to come, not yet. I wanted him again.

I reached for his cock, now stiffening quickly against his stomach, and wrapped my hand around it with a grin. “Then let’s see if you’re ready for a second chapter.”

I matched the rhythm of his fingers buried deep in my heat, each of us moaning softly, twitching under the other’s touch.

“Jesus, Katie,” he breathed, eyes locked on mine. “You’re gonna make me lose it again before I even get inside you.”

“Oh dear,” I whispered, stroking him firmer now, the idea of him inside me sending a thrill through my body. “That wouldn’t do at all.”

He growled softly, actually growled, and the next thing I knew, his fingers slipped from me, and he was grabbing my waist. “That wouldn't do at all!”

I barely had time to yelp as he lifted me up, strong arms gripping under my thighs, and set me down on the table behind me with a thump that rattled the laptop.

The half-drunk Frappuccino tipped and spilled over the side, thankfully away from the keyboard, but splashed across the floor with a dramatic, sticky splatter.

We both froze.

Liam looked at the mess. I looked at him.

Then we both burst out laughing.

“Shit,” I gasped, wiping my eyes, legs still dangling over the table’s edge. “Your boss is gonna kill you.”

“I’ll clean up later.” Liam grinned, stepping between my legs, his cock brushing against my thigh. “It’s absolutely worth it.”

The laughter faded, the moment twisting from hilarity to heat in a single shared breath. My legs wrapped instinctively around his waist. His hands were on my hips. My hands were on his shoulders. Everything in me was buzzing.

He leaned in, forehead resting against mine, and for a second, just a second, we hovered there.

Not laughing. Not speaking.

Just breathing. Heavy, uneven, wanting.

His cock nudged against my entrance, and I gasped, the contact making my whole body tighten.

“You ready?” he asked, voice hoarse.

I looked at him, really looked. His flushed cheeks, the way his chest rose and fell, how his pupils were blown wide with lust but his hands still held me so carefully.

I nodded, lips barely parting. “Yeah,” I breathed. “I’ve never been more ready.”

He shifted, guiding himself into place.

And we both held our breath.

He pressed forward, guiding the head of his cock sliding along my soaked lips, dragging it slowly along my entrance like he was savoring the heat. My hips bucked, seeking more, and then, finally, he pushed in.

My breath caught as he filled me, inch by thick inch, and I let out a moan that echoed off the café walls.

“Oh fuck,” I gasped, head tilting back. “Yes, YES!”

He groaned deep in his throat, gripping my hips tighter, burying himself all the way to the base in one slow, devastating thrust.

“You feel,” he breathed, forehead against mine, jaw clenched, “so fucking good.”

The table rocked slightly beneath us as he pulled back and thrust again, harder this time. The sound of his skin on my skin, of breathless moans and the creak of wood, filled the empty café like a chorus.

He set a brutal rhythm, fucking me with frantic energy, his cock sliding deep with every stroke, hitting spots inside me that made my thighs quake and my fingers claw at his back.

“Fuck, Liam!” I cried out, barely holding on. “Just like that, yes, oh my god, don’t stop!”

“I wasn’t going to,” he growled, voice wrecked. “You’re so fucking tight, so wet, Katie, you’re perfect!”

The table scraped backward with every thrust, a half-spilled puddle of Frappuccino forgotten beneath us, my laptop still open nearby like it was watching everything.

He grabbed one of my legs and hooked it over his shoulder, opening me wider, deeper and I screamed.

My body arched, back lifting off the table, every muscle stretched taut as he slammed into me, cock pounding in and out, his hand on my throat now, not choking, just holding, like he couldn’t stand not being connected at every possible point.

His free hand dropped to my breast, squeezing, thumb flicking over my nipple as he drove into me, harder, faster.

My climax built again, fast and vicious, heat coiling in my gut like a live wire. His thrusts were brutal now, desperate, raw, driven by that second-wind madness only lust could fuel.

“I’m close,” I gasped, voice shaking, nails dragging down his back. “Fuck, Liam, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop!”

My legs shook where they clung around his waist, each thrust of his cock hitting deep, fast, and maddening. He was relentless now, slamming into me like he needed to make me fall apart again.

And it was working.

My breath was ragged, every muscle drawn tight, skin slick with sweat. The sound of the table creaking, the wet slap of our bodies, and the frantic moans spilling from both our lips filled the air like a fevered symphony.

“Fuck, Liam!” I gasped. “I’m gonna cum!”

“Do it,” he growled, grabbing my ass and driving in even harder. “Fucking cum on my cock!”

That was it.

My orgasm ripped through me like a wave crashing over open flame. My walls clamped around him, tight, spasming in hard, desperate pulses that dragged a strangled scream from my throat. My nails raked down his back, my whole body convulsing as I came, shuddering and gasping.

“Fuuuck,” Liam moaned, jaw tight as he slowed only slightly. “God, you’re so fucking tight when you come.”

My pussy gripped him hard, rhythmic pulses milking his cock as I rode out the orgasm. But he didn’t stop. Not even close.

He kept going.

Thrusting into me through the aftershocks, pushing me past the edge and into a haze of overstimulation and fresh need. Each stroke made me jolt, made my breath catch all over again.

“Jesus,” I whispered, dizzy from the orgasm but aching already for more. “How are you still going?”

Liam chuckled, breath hot against my neck. “Came too quick the first time. I’m making up for it.”

With every movement, I could feel the tension building again. Like my body couldn’t help itself. 

He shifted his angle, grabbing my hips and tilting me upward, and fuck, he found that spot again. That perfect, aching place that made my voice break.

I moaned, louder this time, hips grinding down to meet his thrusts. “You’re gonna make me cum again! Oh my god. Yes Liam. Yes yes YES!”

He was panting now, movements faster, more erratic. I could feel his thighs trembling, the way his grip on my hips turned bruising.

“God, Katie, I’m close. So close!”

My walls clenched again, another orgasm spiraling fast and violent through me. I cried out, loud and raw, as my pussy convulsed around him, milking his cock with hot, pulsing spasms that made my vision blur.

“Oh fuck! Yes Liam. I’m cumming again!”

“Shit,” he gasped. “Yes, yes!”

He held out for just a few more thrusts, hips snapping hard into mine as I shook beneath him, overwhelmed and trembling.

Then he grinned, “You ready for the finale?” he groaned, voice tight, hips pulling back.

I barely managed a nod before he slammed forward once, deep, hard.

Then again.

Two pumps.

And with a broken, glorious sound, he buried himself deep and came.

Hot pulses flooded into me, cock twitching as he emptied every drop of himself inside, groaning my name like it was a prayer. I gasped at the feeling, warm, thick, filling me with every spurt. I could feel it coat me inside, feel the heat of it dripping deeper with every twitch of his cock.

We clung to each other, panting, shaking, our bodies tangled and soaked and completely, blissfully fucked out.

He pressed his forehead against mine, still buried to the hilt, our breaths syncing.

Then he grinned, utterly spent but smug as ever.

“Two pumps. Extra cream.”

I laughed, hoarse, breathless, utterly ruined.

“God, I’ll never think of coffee the same.”