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"That's good," she whispered, struggling for breath.
He molded her flesh in his hands, then spanked her again. "Naughty girl, doing dirty things in the boss's expensive chairs."
Oh yes, she liked that a lot. He could see her hands tightening on the leather upholstery, her knuckles turning white. Then her cunt contracted and began to spasm. She had him so deep. He felt the heat of her climax sucking at him. He tightened his hands on her hips, holding her. "Don't move," he begged. "I'm going to ride you hard while you come. Can you take it?"
She moaned, her body shuddering on the brink. "Hurry," she cried, her voice low and forced.
He put his hands on her hips and began to slam home. She cried out in ecstasy. And again. He was there. He thrust home.
Her head rolled back, her body clutching at him, over and over.
His body jerked and he came in a sudden, dazzling rush his body churning into hers, and for a few moments, he lost contact with everything, except the clutch of her body on his.
"That felt so wrong, but so right," she said, laughing, when she broke free, her body wavering.
He lifted her back, drawing her in against him, kissing the top of her head. She was the craziest woman he'd ever had the pleasure to
be around. Somewhere far, far away he heard a voice telling him it was too good, that it couldn't last, but Nathan ignored it.
* * * *
The gym was mercifully cool, Abby noticed. They had their air con on full blast and there weren't many people around. The day had turned steamy, humid. There was a storm brewing. She hadn't wanted to go back to her apartment before seeing Zac, so she'd pulled on a tank top and army trousers and shoved a change of clothes into her bag, together with her gym gear. She could go straight on to Zac's from there.
Tom had given them all membership at the nearest gym as a Christmas bonus the year before. Mostly she went with Caroline, early mornings or lunch times. She'd never been there at night before. Obviously its position in the City catered mainly for the daytime surge. It was usually full of business types and was strangely different at night. Abby was able to wander around the equipment without interruption.
As her body worked with the rhythmic movements of muscle against machine, she breathed in a regular pattern, visualizing her muscles flexing. Her eyes closed. She was more alive than she'd ever felt, her body fired by a regiment of hormones that readied themselves for release, for battle.
She felt the lycra stretch over her ribcage as she flexed. She imagined it was leather, she could almost hear the creak. She was thinking about his legs. She was thinking about his skin. She wanted to feel it against her own. She opened her eyes and the white wall in front of her reminded her of his shirt, that first day in the elevator. She laughed at herself and gave up on the machine.
She took a quick shower then decided not to wear the dress she had brought with her and pulled on her top and army trousers. Her blood coursed ever quicker in her veins when her taxi pulled alongside his Mercedes. He was there. Her heart beat triumphantly.
When he opened the door he stood smiling silently, a towel over his shoulder. He was wearing loose fitting black trousers, his torso was naked. He must have just stepped out of the shower. Wet hair clung to his head and neck. A trickle of water ran over the skin of his chest, slowing as it met the dark shape of his nipple. "What a pity I didn't arrive a bit earlier," she said as she walked in.
He shut the door behind her and rubbed the towel against his head as he looked down at her combat gear. She watched the line of his triceps as he reached up to bend his arm back. He flung the towel over a chair and put his hand on her bare arm. His skin was still cool from the shower, hers was burning hot.
"I'm glad you're here," he said and reached down to touch her mouth lightly with his.
She wanted to respond fiercely, to climb all over him, but he brushed gently on her lips then released her arm with a gentle stroke. "You smell good, like the sea," he said, breathing against her skin. It made her feel weak.
"Would you like a drink?" His gaze roved over her body while he waited for the answer.
Her hand went to his wet hair and as she touched it a few drops of water ran down her arm. The erotic charge of it hung heavy between them, like the humid air of the night. Eventually, she nodded.
He picked up a shirt that looked as if he had dropped it as he went to answer the door and stopped to put it on.
"No," she said, following him, her hand reaching for the bare skin of his chest. "Don't cover up." She drew the material slowly back down his arms, her hands taking the opportunity to touch his shoulders as they passed. She seemed to move in slow motion, brushing the material where her hands wanted to go on his arms.
He took the shirt from her and put it back down.
She stroked her hand across his shoulders and down to trace the line of his lean torso. Then it wandered up to circle his arm around the tattoo.
He captured her wrist with his hand and her gaze with his eyes. "Abby...your drink awaits." He strode off and she followed a few paces behind. She found herself in a small kitchen with a tall, thin, glass door that opened onto a tiny balcony. It had a Mediterranean feel about it. She walked over to the window, it was open, and it overlooked the river.
He moved behind her and she felt the cold slide of glass on her bare arm as he joined her with two glasses of champagne. She gasped then laughed. She was thinking of the day before. How much better it would have been if it had been Zac with Champagne, instead of Tom with Bucksfizz.
They stood in the doorway, drank from their glasses and from each other's eyes.
"It's an excellent view of the river," she said, not looking at it but at him. He nodded. The air was so charged she almost felt rays of light crashing from her body to break up the humid air around them.
