Swapping Phones & Swapping Spit

Sheena gets the text and feels it hit low. A stranger wants to meet tonight. Immediate problem—wrong phone. The screen shows her friend's name. Swap at the bar earlier. She laughs once, then sees the messages stacking up. Her friend is stalling. Clear as day. The guy on the other end is aching and her friend keeps finding reasons to back off. Sheena starts typing before the guilt catches her. She keeps it short, flirty, direct. Sends the address she knows the friend used last week. Pushes send and leans back on the couch, heart pounding like she's already done something wrong. She hasn't even showered. The knock comes earlier than she expects. She opens the door in leggings and nothing else on top. Little Puck stands there sizing her up without pretending. Tension hits first, then the confusion in his eyes. She tries to stay in character but fucks it up on the second sentence. Voice off. Details off. Little Puck notices. Calls her out with a quiet laugh and one cocked eyebrow. She doesn't backpedal. She tells him straight—she wanted it. Simple as that. The air shifts. Little Puck closes the door behind him and moves in. Hands on her waist, mouth at her ear, he tells her she's trouble and she smiles like that's exactly what she wanted to hear. The rest happens fast. Couch cushions hit the floor. Clothes come off in a rush. She arches under him while his hands grip hard and his cock slides deep. Each thrust knocks a small sound out of her. Sweat, teeth marks, the slap of skin filling the room. She comes first, loud, shaking. He follows close behind, still gripping her like she might disappear. After, they're breathing hard on the rug, phones forgotten on the table.