Avery

So we would be working together more. It was a good thing. It was good for Bucket. It was good for my firm. It was good for me and for Luke. It just wouldn’t be so good for our mutual sex life. I was sure he must have felt the same way. Maybe once we’re retired, if neither of us is in a relationship, we can pick up where we left off, without having to worry about things like careers. Maybe my new goal should be to retire by the age of twenty-nine. I could wait that long to have sex with Luke. It would be especially worth it if I had millions of dollars saved and never had to work again.

I got a text. It was from Luke’s personal phone.

Sailor: Certainly is quiet around here.

Me: Certainly is.

Sailor: So this is…awkward.

Me: Ya think?

Sailor: I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier…About Mr. Potter.

Me: Gulp.

Sailor: You’re a little bit crazy, I take it?

Me: Little bit.

Sailor: It’s charming. Sort of.

Me: Generous of you.

Sailor: I’m a generous fellow. Popping over to the kitchen for a late night snack. Care to join?

I wanted to join him. I wanted to be conjoined with him. But my stomach was doing somersaults. I was terrified. It was all so real and I didn’t know if it was a good idea or if I could handle it.

Me: Not too hungry right now…You go ahead. I’ve got some client emails to catch up on.

Sailor: Saturday night. Makes sense. Later, then.

Me: Later!

I shut my laptop. What was my problem? It was Saturday night. I was in paradise, alone with Luke. We’d already made out and my hand had touched his crotch. Would it make any difference to our ability to work together if we closed the deal? I mean, it would just be an English penis inside an American vagina. What could be more symbolic of the successful transatlantic merger he and I had just overseen? I could spend the rest of the night or the rest of my life coming up with excuses for not having sex with that man, or I could get real and admit to myself and him that I wanted to have sex with him. Now. It was now or never.

I looked down at my camisole and panties. I could play it safe and get dressed, just in case Luke really was interested in making pancakes in the kitchen, or I could change into the La Perla lingerie I’d brought along for emergency sexy times, or I could hedge my bets and throw the villa-provided robe on over what I was wearing. I didn’t want to waste any more time, I needed to get out the door before I changed my mind. I grabbed the robe and went to the door.

I opened the door and saw Luke standing there, a few feet from my door, his shirt completely unbuttoned, his hands in his pockets. He was trying to decide whether or not to knock. I dropped the robe to the floor. We stood there staring at each other, for what felt like several minutes, but was probably only a few seconds, and then he wordlessly stepped inside, shut the door behind him, and put his arms around me. He drew me close to him, as close as we could be. I held him tight and felt his warm breath on my neck, his heartbeat quickening. His hands traveled up and down the back of me and then slowly and confidently explored my front, cupping my breasts, and gazing down at them, admiring them, in a way that he seemed to have been longing to for quite a while.

“Promise me this won’t ruin everything,” I whispered.

“I can’t,” he said. “It will absolutely ruin everything.”

He ran his fingers along the lace top of my camisole and then along the bottom of it, his fingertips grazing my belly, my waist, and up under my camisole to my breasts again. I was surprised by how comfortable I was at letting him touch me and look at me like that--my body wanted it too--but soon I needed to be more involved.  I touched his chin with one hand, leading his mouth towards mine, as my other hand sought out the impressive bulge at the front of his pants.  I gasped as I took hold of it and he let out an audible sigh.  I looked up at him and saw that his eyes had clouded over, and I knew that he needed to be inside of me, as much as I needed to feel him inside of me.  There was nothing we needed to say to each other now that our bodies couldn’t say for us. In one swift motion he lifted me up into his arms and carried me to the bed, pressing down on me as he kissed my lips and my neck, and I loved how it felt--the weight of him on me, loved the smell and the taste of him--he was every bit as delicious as his voice had promised.

Then he surprised me by becoming bolder than I ever would have imagined, given his very English manner--and it was awesome.  He pulled off my camisole and kissed my breasts hungrily, one then the other, while reaching his hand down into my panties and groaning when he felt how wet I was. My back arched and I ached for him.  I tried to rip off his shirt, but he disappeared down the center of me, pulling off my panties and licking between my legs, sucking and licking and circling and thrusting with his tongue, sucking and licking and circling, while clinging to my ass.  I was writhing, my hands gripping the bed covers.  The feel of his tongue exploring the insanely moist innermost part of was as divine as it was excruciating--I wanted him to pound away at me, there's no other way to put it.  As if reading my mind, his gorgeous, serious face, reappeared and I ripped that shirt right off of him, running my hands all over his firm chest and biceps.  I kissed one of his pecs and took a gentle bite.

I unbuckled his belt, threw it onto the floor, unzipped him and reached down inside his boxers. He was warm and hard and he was a mighty handful. I gripped the head tightly before slowly running my hand down. As he held himself up over me, I looked up at him, his closed eyes, his tense jaw, and I so wanted to make him feel good. I pushed him down onto the bed, knelt down between his legs, pulled his pants and boxers down and cradled his balls with one hand while grasping his shaft with the other hand, letting my closed hand follow my wet lips up and down the length of him, sucking and licking the tip of his beautiful cock. I’d never liked the taste of a man so much, or loved the way my name sounded, his voice low and husky, but still smooth and controlled. I could tell he was getting close, so I kissed his thigh, his pelvis.

I started to reach for the bedside table where I'd put my unopened box of condoms (I am, ultimately, a pragmatic optimist), just as he pulled out a single condom from the front pocket of his pants, grinning.  He tore it open with his teeth. I took the condom from him and put it on him myself, spreading my legs and wrapping them around his waist, and then he simply went to town on me.  

I closed my eyes and thought of England--not! 

He was so big and rock hard, I cried out when he thrust into me the first few times, more from excitement than pain, because I was so damned wet.

"You're so damned wet," he said, his voice a sexy growl.  "You feel amazing."

"Oh my God, Luke!"  I couldn't think of any other words, I just kept repeating that over and over--loudly, because I knew we were all alone.  Finally I felt the need to see his face, and I flipped over to climb on top of him.

"Avery Avery Avery," he said, and just the sound of him saying my name like that made me even wetter.  He kept his eyes open, watching me for a moment.  I rested my hands on his chest.  He gripped my hips while I rode him, and then he sat up to kiss me deeply.  He dragged his fingernails down the skin of my back.  It didn't hurt, but the surprise of it made me gasp. I reached down to massage his balls. He closed his eyes and moaned, then looked into my eyes again. He spanked me on the bum—a quick slap. Again, it was such a surprise, I felt it ripple through my body. I rocked back and forth, straddling him, electrified. He was so deep inside of me. He kissed my breasts and I leaned back.  He suddenly flipped me onto my back again and moved to the edge of the bed, deftly sliding two pillows under my lower back to relieve physical stress—ever the thoughtful gentleman, even as he thrust away, like an Olympic athlete.

I have no idea what I looked or sounded like, because it felt so fucking good and I felt so fucking amazing that I just didn't care. There was nothing in the world that I cared about besides that feeling of having Luke inside of me.

I didn’t want the feeling to end, but I was so ripe for an orgasm, my body was already screaming, and soon I was screaming too. It was an exquisite, agonizing tsunami of painful pleasure.  It was wild and thrilling and big and beautiful, and we gripped each other's hands while he finally let himself release and he let out the most heavenly groan. The sound of him coming vibrated through me, and I felt an overwhelming desire to be the only one who made him make that noise for the rest of his life.

I sat up and held him so tightly and we stayed like that for a while before he collapsed back onto the bed and let out a satisfied sigh.  I lay flat on top of him, my breasts pressed against his chest, his arms around my waist.

I must have fallen asleep, because when I woke up he had placed me under the covers, poured me a glass of water from the pitcher that was in the room, and he was fast asleep in bed beside me.