My Raw First-Night Fuck with Cyril Hike, the Insurance Hottie

The pizza place Chez Gino smelled like garlic and fresh dough, red-checkered tables under Naples prints. Cyril Hike sat across, his casual smile hiding that rep as the office stud. New girl at Assureurs Berrichons, I’d heard the whispers—serial fucker, big cock, leaves women wrecked. My phone buzzed in my bag, ignored Tinder pings from other chats. We skipped small talk after carbonara. His knee brushed mine under the table, electric. ‘Wanna get out?’ he murmured, eyes dark. Heart pounded. No games. I nodded, wet already. Bill split, we bolted into the May night, cool air hitting my flushed skin. His hand gripped my waist, leading to his center-ville apartment, two blocks away. Door slammed. No kisses yet. Urgency burned—no time for screens anymore, this was flesh.