by Luke Steel
She walks toward me, one careful step at a time.
Her nipples touch me first, grazing over my chest hair. She frees my hands from their death grip and guides them over her breasts. I brush my palms over her nipples, and she leans into me, offering up her lips. I take her mouth, less gently than before. Her hands are everywhere, clutching at my ass and digging into my back. I shudder and deepen the kiss, bringing my hands up to weave them in her sweet smelling hair. Despite the chill, our skin dampens. Her skin slides over my dick, trapped between us, with gorgeous friction. With a tug on her hair, I expose her neck and kiss the sensitive spot below her ear. The breathy sounds she makes test my control. I grit my teeth as lightning pleasure rips through me.
My control slips, and I swivel with her so she’s pressed against the railing, then flip her around to admire the curve of her back. I tease her by pressing my cock against her ass. My left hand wraps under her ribs to tease one nipple, and my right hand dives between her legs. I part her and slip one finger into her slick cleft. She reaches up to cup one hand behind my head. The action arches her back, pointing her perfect breasts to the sky. She’s so fucking wet. I pump two fingers inside, my palm applying rough pressure to her clit. She moans, and I bring my fingers out to circle the slippery nub. Does she know, I wonder, how good she tastes?
I drag my fingers up her stomach, between her breasts, and slide it into her mouth. She sucks her juices off, working her tongue along my fingers like she did with my dick.
“I’m going to go get a condom,” I croak. I need to be in her.
One hand reaches back and grabs my thigh.
“Emma?”
“Are you clean?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent, actually, but—”
“I’m on the pill,” she says. “I fucking trust you, Nate. Don’t screw me over. Just fuck me. Now.”
My forehead falls against her back, and I press a kiss at the top of her spine.
“Fuck, Emma, are you sure?”
“Dammit, Nate. I know what I want. I trust you with my company, and I trust you now.”
She leans toward the railing and backs her ass toward me.
I am only a man.
With my feet, I nudge hers apart. My balls draw up tight and my dick throbs almost painfully. As I stare at her goddess’s body in the glow of the moon and city lights, trying to draw out the delicious, tortuous wait, she reaches between her legs and rubs herself.
“Nate.”
My mouth goes dry. The same hand cups her breast, then teases her nipple with the palm. Trembling with the effort of holding back, I grip her hips and slide my cock between her legs—not in, but teasing my length along her pussy. The warm, wet slide of it against her draws a ragged groan from my throat.
“Nate.” She pants my name. A plea. Begging for my cock in her.
It’s been so long since I had anything but casual sex. I can’t remember the last time I fucked someone without a condom. Years, maybe. As I guide my cock to her entrance, my fingers dig in, as if I’m clinging to the last shred of control. Not just sex. With her. I’m panting with the effort of waiting one more second, two more, when she braces against the rail and pushes backward. She cries out as I fill her.
I pull out slowly, inch by inch, take a deep breath, and rock into her again.
“Fuck, yes,” she says. “All of you, Nate. Harder.”
Another stroke. In, her pussy squeezing me. Out, watching her reach between her legs. My heart thunders in my ears like I’ve run five miles, and my fingers slip on her skin. Then I break.
I change the angle, adjust my grip on her hips to support her, and give her every inch she begged for. I slam into her. Our flesh meets with a satisfying slap. As I find a rhythm, pressure builds to a fever pitch. Emma cries out with each thrust, pushing against the rail with both hands. She rolls her hips forward, matching my pace. The tempo of her moans increases, and I lean forward to find her clit without breaking our building tension.
She’s close, I feel it all around me. A few light circles around her clit with my fingertip, and she arches, her muscles tightening. Trembling. She calls my name as she comes, spasming against me.
My dick swells in the moment just before I know I will blow, and she yells again as I explode in her. Pleasure blanks out my thoughts. We catch our breath together as our bodies come down from the climax together, aftershocks rolling through us in decreasing waves.
I pull out and turn her by the shoulders and pull her into a hug. When we kiss again, it’s as lovers, not strangers. Her arms snake around my waist, and I engulf her shoulders in my embrace, pressing my cheek to hers. She sighs and pulls away.
“Maybe we should … ah … put some clothes on. Or go inside.”
“Better idea.” With a flourish, I scoop her knees from under her. Careful not to bang any limbs on doorways, I carry her to the shower and set her inside the tub. I turn on the oversized shower head that simulates a hard, slanting rain.
“Oh, God, Nate,” she moans when the spray hits her. “This is better than—” She squeals as I flick water in her face. “Ice cream! I was going to say ice cream.”
I crush my lips against hers as water sluices over us. “Emma, that was amazing.”
She pushes heavy, wet locks of hair away from her face. Her slick body presses to mine, coaxing life into my spent cock. Her palm cups my cheek. Her quiet intensity gives this moment weight. Meaning. Her gold-brown eyes hold absolute trust, and I shiver. I don’t ever want to lose that.
“For me, too. Thank you, for everything tonight.”
I press a kiss into her palm. Steam billows around us. I pick up the shower gel and wiggle it.
“Now let’s get you clean.”
“Well, you can try,” she says.
I work up a lather and begin with her hand, working soap between her fingers with mine. My hand circles the delicate bones of her wrist, but the lean muscles of her arm remind me she’s stronger than she looks. Holding that arm up, I spin her carefully and press her hand against the wall. I work down her back in large, massaging circles. My palms skim over her ass and down one thigh. She’s starting to move with me, lean into my caresses. With another squeeze of soap, I go to one knee to reach her ankle, and then work back up the other leg.
I slide a soapy hand between her legs. She gasps and pushes off the wall.
“Not yet, Emma. It’ll be your turn in a minute.” My left hand weighs on the back of her neck while the right searches for the prize. Feather light touches on her clit, still swollen with arousal, have her gyrating on my hand. When she turns, she grabs the shower gel off the shelf. I tweak one nipple as she coats her hands in liquid soap, and for reply she slides one lathered hand under my balls.
“What do you have left?” Emma teases. One finger slides further back behind my balls until she teases around the rim of my asshole.
“Holy hell,” I growl. My dick surges back to life, rising between us.
She grabs me in a slippery fist and slides her hand from root to head. Her fingers circle the shaft just under the head, and the other hand grips the base of the shaft, giving the sensation of being buried fully in her sex.
My sight blurs as my eyes unfocus and roll upward with the intensity of the sensation, and I steady myself against the wall. When I focus on her face, the gloating satisfaction there snaps me back.
“Mmm, do you like that, Nate? I think you should tell me.”
I jerk my hips away, capture her hands, and bring them together over her head. Her chest heaves, and spray bounces off her nipples. Her hips arch toward me. I spin her to the wall again and flatten her palms against the tile. I admire the sight of her, wet all over and ass out.
“I definitely like this,” I say. My lips find her shoulder, followed by teeth grazing the skin. My weight pins her in place, and I lift my hand between her legs again. I part her folds and slide two fingers in. When I wiggle them back and forth
in a scissoring motion, she moans.
“Oh my god, Nate. What the fuck—”
One of her hands escapes. She gropes behind her and manages to get my dick in her hand. Within a few strokes the teasing playfulness has evaporated, and raw hunger shoots through me. I release her, and she turns. My mouth covers hers. She draws me in with both hands behind my head, her tongue thrusting against mine. She nips my lower lip with a sharp sting.
Emma grabs the chrome bar on the wall and lifts her leg along the outside of mine. I catch it as I brace a hand by her head. She hooks the leg around my ass, and I impale her with a single thrust that takes me all the way in. I press her thigh higher, angling deeper. She kisses my neck where tendons stand out with the strain of holding back. And then I grunt as I pull out and thrust into her again. Again. She’s holding on to the bar with one hand, and her other one wedges between us, seeking her clit.
“It’s sexy when you touch yourself, Emma.” I slam into her. “You’re so tight. I can feel you getting close. Are you there?”
She nods, panting.
“Tell me, Emma.”
“I’m—I’m—oh, god—” She screams as she comes. I adjust my grip, leveraging more of her weight against the wall so I can increase my speed, pounding until I spill into her again.
“Nate, I don’t know if I can stand,” she says in a quivery voice.
“I’ve got you,” I promise.
We rinse off, and then I wrap us in fluffy robes. She’s brushing her hair as I retrieve our clothing from the balcony.
“Oh, shit,” she says. “How did it get to be four a.m.? There’s no way I can catch the red-eye home.”
“Can you stay another day? I don’t have any meetings.”
“I do. Unbreakable appointment at one today. I was supposed to be on the early, early flight from Vegas right about now.”
“How about a quick nap, early-early breakfast, and the use of my plane? We’re business partners now, you know.”
Her lips twist to the side. “No nap, but I’ll take the breakfast and plane.”
“Hardass.”
9
Nate
The board meeting adjourns with handshakes all around. Though it’s one of my smaller companies, this board often acts like a prima donna roundtable. I see the last one out, and then stride toward my office. Emma is on my mind, as usual. I’ve normally heard from her by this time in the day, a note or sexy voice mail if nothing else.
Marge nods as I pass, her headphones in as she types furiously. She could be transcribing or listening to aggressively cheerful show tunes.
The last month with Emma has passed in a blur of work and sex. We’ve finalized the SocialTech merger, and Emma has already started raising capital for her next project, a business incubator for young women who don’t have access to an Ivy League MBA.
“I can fund this project,” I told her one night over a rare dinner. “At least in part. My philanthropic budget has some wiggle room each year.”
“Screw you, Stone. This isn’t charity. This business will pay for itself inside two years.”
“How sure are you? Sure enough to put money on it?”
“Hell yeah, I will.” She laughed. “You can take the man out of poker, but you can’t take poker out of the man.”
“What did you say? Poke her?”
She laughed at my lame pun. I smile and touch the ace of spades onyx cufflinks at my wrists. She gave me these that night.
Sometimes all the time we have together is a hurried quickie between meetings or sleepy phone sex after grueling days of work. Occasionally, we have a night together, her place or mine. It’s in these nights that something bright has begun to grow in secret spaces of my heart. My plan to screw her out of my system is working the opposite way. Every time we’re together, she leaves me wanting more of her.
Will there ever be enough with her?
I hope not.
Emma is a woman to test you every step of the way and make you fight to be better. Then she’ll light up your nights. I could do the same for her. I’m starting to think seriously about the possibility I want to be more to her than this. In the hours of conversation that passed, we’ve never discussed what we are to each other. Neither of us wanted to be the one to ask, probably. Don’t ask, don’t tell; the best way to avoid getting hurt.
I drop into my chair, but don’t look at the computer monitor.
Women have loved me since I grew six inches and broke out in muscles as a teenager. And I love women, but I’ve never loved a woman. Building this business has taken up that space in my life, and it’s always felt like enough. No woman could bring the challenges and mental thrills of global business. How could she?
But Emma is a lifetime of adventure in one package. She’s stubborn and brilliant and restless. Sexy as hell. I have this driving urge, not to protect her or give her things, but to appreciate her. Because not every guy is man enough to walk beside a woman like her. But I am.
Sex isn’t enough anymore. Nope, I want the full Emma experience. And I sure as hell don’t want to see her with someone else. Sometimes the hottest flames burn out the fastest, and we freaking exploded. But the way we connect, argue over politics and business, expand each other’s ideas, that’s more than heat. One of my advantages has always been to see what I want and go after it.
I stand and pace in front of the window. I’m tired of waiting, but unfamiliar doubt nags at me. She might not feel the same way. Persistence gets me most of what I want in life, but feelings are immune. You can’t force the heart.
I need to know if this is just a casual thing for her.
What if it is?
If I can change her mind, I will. And if not, then we drop the pleasure and go back to business like I promised her. If this goes further and she’s not in it like I am, I’ll be risking not just my heart, but her company. Because I don’t know if I’ll be able to go back if I wait another day.
Fuck this. I have to know.
My phone pings with a message. I swipe and open a photo of Emma in kickboxing gear flashing a thumbs-up from a small, padded room. No message, but she’s wearing the necklace I gave her. The need to touch her prickles under my skin.
If I leave now, I can see her in two hours. I need to see her eyes when I ask her what she wants from me. From us. A hasty plan takes shape.
Marge is taking her purse from a drawer to leave for lunch, but she always knows my schedule at least a couple days out.
“Before you go, what do I have tomorrow?”
“Clive is coming in to review budgets for next year at three.”
“Cancel it. Tell George to fuel the plane for a flight to Seattle and load the BMW bike. Two helmets.”
On the plane, I double check the weather—overcast but no rain—and use my phone to map a scenic ride north of Seattle. We’ll stop somewhere overlooking Puget Sound. I call some bed and breakfast places on the route and ask about rooms. As soon as we touch down at Sea-Tac, I spring out of my seat and shrug into my leather jacket.
George holds the other side as we walk down the loading ramp with the heavy roadster. Bulbous white clouds dot the horizon, but nothing looks like rain.
“Thanks, George. As soon as we decide, I’ll let you know if we’re headed back tonight.”
I swing a leg over the powerful machine, letting its dull rumble soothe me. My helmet is wired to my phone, so I activate the voice assistant for directions to the SocialTech headquarters. The smooth female voice guides me through an easy drive up Interstate 5 and deposits me at Emma’s building. I remove my helmet and strap it to the bike beside the spare one.
I push open SocialTech’s glass doors.
“Good afternoon. May I help you?” The young, bland-faced receptionist blushes when I walk in.
“Yes. Nate Stone here to see Emma Vance. Is she in?” I rest against an elbow on the desk.
“Ms. Vance isn’t in right now,” the receptionist says. “I can give you her email address, or I can take
down a message.”
“Will she be back today?”
“I—I’m not at liberty to say, sir.”
I want to tell her I’m Emma’s boyfriend, and that it’s okay to tell me how long she’ll be gone. But that’s probably premature.
Emma’s assistant steps out of her office. Her eyes get bigger when she spots me.
“Stephanie, right?” I call to her.
Stephanie crosses the hall to me. “Yeah. So, uh, what can I help you with, Mr. Stone?”
“I’m looking for Emma. She mentioned she was in the office today, and I thought I’d stop by and say hello.”
Oh you know, just in the neighborhood with my plane and some good intentions.
Stephanie cringes. “I’m so sorry, but she’s out right now.”
“So I heard. Can you tell me where, or how long she’ll be gone?” I smile reassuringly.
She hesitates, so I swallow my frustration. The occasion definitely calls for charm.
“Mr. Stone, I wouldn’t normally give that information out, but I know you’ve been …”
“Yes, we’ve been in touch a great deal lately.” I don’t know how private Emma is with her personal life, so I give the poor assistant an out.”
“Right,” she says, relief easing the discomfort in her expression. “Anyway, Emma left for the airport about ten minutes ago. She’s flying out to Spain this afternoon.”
My stomach drops to my knees.
Spain, home of the douchebag ex-boyfriend. Giver of gifts. The lover who wants her back.
“Stephanie, this is important. Can you please give me her flight information? I absolutely have to see her.”
“Uh, is this about the buyout? Should we be alarmed? Should I call her?”
“No, no. I just need to speak with her in person.” I force dimples, though the smile feels like it will break my face in half. “To be honest, it’s personal, not business related.”
Poor Stephanie’s eyes bulge out of her face, and then a toothy grin breaks loose.
“Oh. Ok, ah … follow me, please?”
I’m losing seconds here. If Emma gets behind airport security, she’s as good as gone. Stephanie leads me to her office. She glances at me as she types. Uncertainty crosses her features again.
