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I had never felt so high on adrenaline in my life. The risk factor of meeting Nathaniel in my father’s home gym was obscenely high, and the consequences of getting caught could be life-altering, but I had to see him again. It was all I had thought about for a week.
Slipping away from my mother’s celebration, I made my way down the stairs. The lights were dim in the hallway and throughout the basement–an energy-saving setting my dad had programmed based on the time of day. When I reached the bottom of the staircase, I could make out Nathaniel’s shadowy form behind the glass windows of the gym, pacing between weight machines and ellipticals, unable to see or hear me approach.
Waiting for me.
As I walked down the hallway, my skin tingled with anticipation. Finally, I reached the door and pressed down on the handle, my heartbeat drumming rapidly in my chest. Stepping into the workout room, I shut the door behind me, then locked it.
Nathaniel froze in his tracks. I lingered by the doorway, unsure of what to say, feeling suddenly anxious.
He walked over to me, unhurried and silent. A frisson of excitement made its way up my spine as he approached, and I moved backward a couple of steps until my rear was against the door.
“Amelia,” he rasped, voice low and needful, stopping only an inch away from me. I could feel his body heat, smell his faint cologne and salty skin.
“Nathaniel.” His name came out in a whisper. My body was practically vibrating with excitement–lust, nerves, the thrill of being alone with him again.
He took a single finger and traced it up my arm slowly, up to my shoulder, over my collarbone, up the side of my neck and the shell of my ear. Then he leaned in and murmured, “I’ve been trying to avoid you all night. Because I knew I couldn’t resist you.” His lips hovered above mine, our breaths mingling, growing shallower. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, Amelia.”
My heart was pounding, and my voice caught in my throat.
“Me too,” I breathed, trembling. “I’ve thought about you nonstop.”
He brought his other hand up to cradle my cheek, tilted my head back to expose my neck to his lips, and softly kissed the skin below my ear. I shivered, arching my back to press into his hard body, but he pulled away, teasing me. Lavishing me with tiny pecks and nibbles down my collarbone, he hunched to follow the low neckline of my dress down to my sternum and nipped gently at the curve of my breasts.
My nipples had hardened underneath my dress. I hadn’t worn a bra, and the texture of the fabric tickled and teased against the sensitive skin as Nathaniel trailed around, exploring.
I planted my palms on the door, dizzy with lust, desperate for something to ground me to the physical world.
“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this,” he said, his voice warm and velvety. “Wanted to touch you again. To feel you again”–he straightened up from nuzzling my chest to look me in the eye– “to kiss you again.” His honey-colored irises gleamed dark in the low light of the room, darting around my face. I could hardly breathe I was so turned on.
“Now’s your chance–”
Before I could finish the word, his lips slanted against mine. I melted into the kiss, humming as his torso pressed firmly to my body, feeling his length hardening against me.
I opened my mouth, letting my tongue sweep along his lower lip before delving further, wanting to be as close to him as humanly possible, locking my arms around his shoulders. He stifled a moan, deepening the kiss, hands sweeping down my body to my hips, my ass. I could feel his cock stiffening as it pressed tighter into my abdomen and whimpered at the thought of having him inside me again.
Then, bending slightly, he lifted me up, pinning me to the door. I instinctively crossed my ankles around his back, and our kisses turned ever more urgent, bodies grinding against each other in a rush before we could even get our clothes off.
“Amelia,” he gasped between kisses. “Baby–”
“Nathaniel–” I wanted more. Needed to feel more of him, take more, give more; I wanted everything. “Need you, now. Please.”
“I’m yours,” he said, slowing the feverish pace of his lips as they grazed against mine. “I’ll give you what you need.”
He pulled back slightly, gently letting my legs straighten, holding onto me so I stayed steady when my heels hit the ground. Before I could reach for him again, he dropped to his knees.
“Stay there,” he said, not quite a command but hardly a request. I was letting him lead the way, and I liked it.
He knew what he was doing. I wanted to learn.
Pressing kisses to my thighs, lips climbing higher and higher, he brought his palms to the hem of my dress and pushed it up inch by inch until he reached my panties. I was wearing a red G-string with mesh fabric in front, a tiny ribbon adorning the top of the elastic.
He took in a sharp breath. “Fuck Amelia,” he said, finger tracing along the thin strap at the top of my thigh, giving me goosebumps. “Did you wear this for me?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“Good.”
A whimper escaped my throat, and the heat built between my thighs.
