“I usually email clients a post event feedback form.”
His words come out a little flustered, as though his mind has only half caught up with him.
He nestles his face in my chest, affection weaving alongside desire.
The tenderness surprises me.
“Forms are boring,” I smile.
Darkness amplifies every sensation.
The rustle of fabric as our bodies shift.
The texture of the towel stack behind us.
A door closes in another part of the building.
But it sounds far away.
Right now there’s only this room, and the two of us inside it.
He cranes his neck to check the hallway.
“I really should supervise the cleanup.”
His hair is ruffled, his clothing half skewed.
He’s the kind of guy who never ever lets time slip through his fingers.
I lift him against the wall, pinning him in place with my hips.
"Marco, I saw those meticulous checklists. Your team is very,verywell trained. In fact, you're so efficient that they’ve started without you. Let them do their job. It's what I'm paying them for."
My hands curve beneath his ass, and soon I feel his cock harden against my belly.
“I guess they can call me if they need to,” he says.
“Good boy,” I whisper. “Now… as your client for one last hour, I request your undivided attention.”
Punctuating my demands with a gentle kiss, I set him on his feet.
Raising his hands above his head, I lay them flat against the wall.
“Let go of the night, let go of the event, and all the lists. Just be mine…”
And with that, Marco surrenders.
???
Our bodies merge again.
Slower now.
Exploring, melting into something deeper.
Buttons come undone, one after another.
Hands caress skin as our shirts fall to the ground.
