Amelia eased into her jacuzzi tub and leaned back.  To her surprise, while she was downstairs spending time with their son, Hammer had come upstairs and prepared her bath.  He’d also poured her a glass of wine and left it on the tub’s extended edge.  She took a sip, smiling at the thought of a domestic Hammer, and then wondered where he could be.

He saved her, and she appreciated it, but she was into Hammer long before any rescues he might have done.

After that dinner party years ago, when they ended up in that cloak room, they would see each other periodically, at various functions around town.  But every time she saw him, she worked hard to avoid him.  Then she’d take sly peeps at him all evening long as if she had some schoolgirl crush on him.  But why was she even bothering, was always the nagging question in her mind.  And still was.

She pressed the nursery button on the monitor screen that was purposely installed within reach of the tub.  And her guess was right.  Hammer was in the nursery, sitting in a chair with his legs crossed, holding their sleeping baby boy.

Amelia stopped sipping her wine mid-sip when she saw him.  She stared at her baby’s father.  He was dressed to the nines, as usual, in a tailored suit, imported dress shoes, and had their baby snuggled closely and protectively against his big frame.  Hammer was a distinguished-looking man who always had the air of an aristocrat, even as he appealed most effectively to the common man.  And the way he stared at that boy, as if he was still amazed that his genes helped to create such a beautiful, precious child, showed why he was so endearing.

And Amelia couldn’t take her eyes off of him.  He was a nightclub owner now, although she was certain he still had an active and highly classified role in CIA operations.  But romance-wise, he was a man with more experience in his pinky than she’d had in a lifetime, and he only seemed to date women with similar vast experience.  But she was the one who gave him a son.  She didn’t know if it made sense to feel proud of that, but she did.  Ever since she first saw Hammer, he stood out in her mind.  She couldn’t even tell herself why.  He was more than a few years older than she was, when she swore, thanks to older asshole Bulldog Valtone’s abusiveness, that she’d never fool with older guys ever again.  And he was obviously a player.  But for some reason he seemed to be more than just a pretty face and a big dick to her.  Her attraction to him was much deeper than that.

But she still had no intention of allowing him to slip off that condom and impregnate her when she didn’t even want to bring a child into that bitter world.  But she did, and he did, and they both were still reeling from the implications.

 

They both remembered the night it happened.  She walked into JazzLight, his nightclub in Montreal, and immediately caught his attention.  Because he’d been taking sly peeps at her too as they saw each other at various fundraisers and soirees hosted by her husband at the time, or other mutual acquaintances.  Hammer was sometimes asked to attend such functions, to represent the various DCIs he worked for, and he showed up, over the years, as assistant director; then as deputy director; then as the newly appointed acting director; and then, finally, as the Director of Central Intelligence.  He was the DCI.  He was the undisputed top guy.  And a very powerful director at that.

Bulldog knew who Hammer was by then, and was no longer disparaging the fact that he wasn’t high ranking enough to attend his top-tier get-togethers.  He was eager to seek him out whenever he showed up, and urged Amelia to do so as well.

But she never did.  And Hammer avoided her, too.  Not just because she rejected his advances once.  But because she was married at the time, and he was wrong to want her.  But also because, every time he saw her, he still wanted her!  She’d already made clear she wasn’t interested in him.  It was unusual.  He wasn’t accustomed to being rejected by a woman so roundly as he was that night in that cloakroom.  But it was as free country and that was fine by him. 

Only it wasn’t fine by him.  He realized it every time he saw her.  She was always playing the beautiful, dutiful wife.  She was always there right beside her power-hungry husband, smiling and entertaining and playing her role to perfection even though she had admitted to him that she didn’t, in her words, give a fuck about her marriage.

But every time he saw her, he wanted her.  The way she walked, with that small, tight ass in those skintight dresses.  The way she leaned her head back in laughter, revealing her long, smooth neck.  The way she sipped her wine.  He wanted her.  He wanted all of her.

But he kept his distance.  He wasn’t the kind of man who begged to be with somebody.  He wasn’t the kind of man who had to.  And besides, he absolutely hated the fact that every time Amelia entered a room, she became the center of his universe no matter who else was in that orbit.

But it would be years later, after her husband was dead, and after she had flown so below the radar that he’d forgotten about her, that it would all change.  It changed when she walked into his club in Montreal one quiet evening, and he realized, as if a bulb had turned on in his head, that he’d been fooling himself all along.

JazzLight was jumping.  He was on the second floor, in his personal VIP section, sitting at his table and holding court with the big wigs who came through to pay him homage.  Unlike Bulldog Valtone, he didn’t give donations to politicians to get them crawling at his feet and begging for his support.  The fact that he once ran the CIA.  The fact that he now ran the hottest club in town.  The fact that he didn’t give a shit if they came or didn’t come or stopped by or didn’t stop by, got their attention.  They always stopped by to impress their ladies, or their associates, or even themselves.  Hammer’s coolness, and lack of excitement whenever he saw some powerful politician or A-list celebrity, impressed them.  And made them even more determined to win him over.  It was a losing challenge.  But they didn’t know it.

Then Amelia walked in.

Hammer saw her as soon as she dawned the door, and just like all those years in their past, she commanded his attention right away.  What the fuck, he thought.  After all this time?  It had been years since he last saw her!

But he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.  She wore red that night: a skintight red dress that hugged her curves so magically that Hammer began to get a hard-on as soon as he took one look at her ass.  Her hair was long and danced down her back full of bounciness and curls, and her smooth brown skin radiated a kind of sophisticated elegance that couldn’t help but fascinate him. And instead of wondering which one of the gorgeous ladies in his club was going to be in his bed that night, as he had been wondering before her arrival, he stopped wondering when he saw her.  Because she was going to be in his bed.

She sat at the table on the main floor, and placed her drink order.  Men immediately began eyeing her, Hammer noticed, and some even seemed to be contemplating making a move.  Hammer glanced to his left.  His main man, Ozzie Jones, pushed away from his perch against the wall and headed his way.  Oz had already spotted who his boss had eyeballed.  It wasn’t a matter of who.  It was a matter of where.

Hammer leaned over when Oz leaned down to him.  “Upstairs,” he said.

Oz was surprised.  It would be the first time Hammer wanted any woman in his private residence upstairs.  But he didn’t become the infamous Hammer Reese’s righthand man by arguing with him, or asking unnecessary questions.

“Yes, sir,” he said, and headed downstairs.

Hammer shook hands and spoke briefly with another high roller as Oz made his way toward Amelia.  But when Oz made it to the table, and whispered in her ear, Hammer’s full attention was back on Amelia.

Amelia had just pulled out her compact and was freshening her lipstick when Oz walked over.  She saw him coming through her periphery, and knew who he was, but she kept her cool.  She wasn’t there by happenstance.    She knew JazzLight belonged to that blue-eyed devil she couldn’t get out of her mind.  Loneliness, desire, an unshakeable sense that he was not her enemy, drove her there that night.  Because it was uncanny to her.  Every time they were in the same room together, at some stale function she was forced to attend, she couldn’t stop feeling his presence, and wanting him near her.  And whenever she looked his way, she would see him staring her down.  But he never said another word to her.  After that kiss in the cloakroom that didn’t go according to his lustful plans, he didn’t approach her again either.  Why should he?  She all but told him to take a hike, and he took a hike.  Why should she be disappointed when he did what she asked him to do?  But she was.  She couldn’t believe how disappointed she had been.

But after that night she could still feel his eyes all over her, as if they were hands undressing her, every second she was anywhere near him.

She knew where he was this time, too.  And she could feel his stare all over again.  But tonight was different.  They weren’t at some fundraiser her now-deceased husband was sponsoring.  They were on his turf tonight.

“The club’s owner, Mr. Reese,” Oz said as he leaned down to her, “has asked that you come with me, ma’am.  He has invited you to his residence upstairs.”

Amelia didn’t expect the invitation to be that blatant, nor did she expect some third party to deliver it, but she kept it together.  It was damn disrespectful, she thought, but what did she expect from a man who gave up after one rejection?  It hurt her that he didn’t pursue her.  Not that she wanted to be pursued.  But every time she looked into his eyes, she saw her rescuer for some crazy reason.  She needed rescuing when Bulldog was alive.  Why didn’t he see it?  But it wasn’t as if she expected anything more.  Nobody else, not in her entire time with that monster called her husband, cared enough to see it either.

She tossed her lipstick back into her small clutch.  “No thank you,” she said.

“If you’ll just follow me,” Oz began saying, and then realized that he had been turned down.  Or, more incredibly, his boss had!  And it angered Oz.  “Look, sister,” he said, “I don’t think you understand.  Hamilton Reese, the former director of the Central Intelligence Agency, has requested an audience with you.”

“And I declined the invitation,” Amelia said bluntly, giving Oz a funny look.  “Tell him thank you, but no thanks.”

Oz was astounded.  She obviously didn’t know Hammer’s reputation for ruthlessness and viciousness.  Nor his reputation for giving a lady the best sex she ever had.  This chick was clueless!

He leaned down to her for the third time.  Every woman on all those previous nights didn’t exchange any words with him, other than okay, and got their asses up.  But this one?  Who did she think she was?  “Look,” he said again, “I don’t think you understand.  Hamilton Reese is not the kind of man you turn down.”

Amelia had turned him down before, and remembered how that turned out for her.  It went so badly that he didn’t so much as speak to her for years.  If it had been any other man: so be it.  But for some strange reason, Hammer Reese had gotten to her.  For some strange reason, she expected him, of all men, to go that extra mile when he didn’t even go an extra inch.

But that didn’t mean she was willing to give up her self-respect for him.  He wanted her sexually.  She knew that.  But she was hoping they could make a connection on a different level.  Maybe get to know each other first.  But she had apparently hoped for too much.  “It’s not a question of turning him down,” she said to Oz.  “It’s a question of whether or not I want to go upstairs with a man I barely know.  The answer is no.  But thank you.”

She returned her attention to the band on stage.  There was a very good jazz singer, a beautiful black woman, belting out serious tunes.  And Oz was stumped.  But his training had taught him how not to show it.  “Very good, madam,” he said, smiled politely, and left her table.

Hammer was surprised when Oz left her table.  The odds of her showing up at his club by chance were too miniscule to be true.  She came because she wanted to fuck him, was his verdict.  But why the fuck was she pretending otherwise?

When Oz came back upstairs, and leaned down to him, he was expecting a damn good explanation.  “She said thanks,” Oz said, “but no thanks.”

Hammer’s anger rose.  Fuck this shit, he thought.  Who did she think she was dealing with?  He knew he could just bump her.  It wasn’t as if he didn’t before.  She turned him down that one time in that cloakroom, and he gave her the cold shoulder for years.  It was in his DNA.

But he looked at her, sitting at that table.  She had a cigarette on a long, gold extender, and took a puff.  If she wasn’t the very definition of elegance and beauty, he didn’t know what was. And he had to have her.  Dammit, he was going to have her!  

To Oz’s shock, he rose up from his table and made his way downstairs.  All eyes, especially the eyes of the ladies, fell on him as he left his perch above the fray and went downstairs.  Oz followed right behind him, looking to make sure nobody else was making any moves toward his boss.  Hammer didn’t mind entertaining strangers who came up to him at his table.  But he very much minded when strangers came up to him as he walked.  That posed threats and dangers.  That was not allowed.

Amelia was stunned herself when she looked across the room and saw that the big man was heading her way.  And once again, just by looking at him, her heart began to pound as if she was either about to face danger, or pure, unadulterated excitement.  She could never tell which it was going to be when it came to a man like him.

He looked stunning, she thought, as he walked her way.  He was dressed to the nines in an Italian silk suit that fit with such perfection that it appeared as if it was his second skin.  His face was always serious: what CIA guy didn’t have that look?  But Hammer’s seriousness wasn’t so much what he did in his previous profession, Amelia thought, but because of who he was.  He was a serious man, unyieldingly comfortable in his own skin, who didn’t suffer fools well.  He viewed her as a fool when she turned him down that day, she assumed, and he probably still held that opinion.  But she wasn’t lowering her standards for him.  If he wanted her, he was going to have to work to have her.

But as soon as Hammer Reese walked up to Amelia’s table, and they were within inches of each other for the first time in years, he wasn’t interested in working at all.  And unlike Oz, he didn’t lean down and whisper sweetly in her ear.  He didn’t even say her name.

“Let’s go,” he said, turned around, and headed in the direction that led upstairs, to his residence.

Amelia was astonished.  Others in the club were too.  But they all seemed to have the look of surprise that she hadn’t gotten up yet and followed him.  Did she know who he was, their looks seemed to suggest?  What was she waiting for, was another suggestion?  And Amelia felt the same way, too.  What the fuck was she waiting for?  Because she knew, if she didn’t follow him this time, if she turned him down this time, there was not going to be another time.

Despite all of her plans; despite all of her internal dialogue about self-respect, she grabbed her small, beaded handbag and followed Hammer Reese across the floor of his nightclub, up the crystal spiral staircase, and into the door that led to his onsite residence.  It was almost uncanny to her that she was doing it.  She had been married to a domineering man.  Why would she want that again?  And as she walked, the question wasn’t about what was she waiting for, but why was she giving in so easily?  Who did he think he was?

But as soon as she crossed the threshold into his pristine apartment, and he slammed the door shut behind her, effectively slamming everybody else out, she got her answer: and it was short and firm.

Her back was against the door, and he was in front of her.  “Let me get something straight,” he said to her.  “I am not the kind of man who will be handled by a woman.  Not any woman.  Not even you.  I will respect you as the lady that you are, and treat you with the respect you deserve.  But you will respect me as the man I am.  I will accept nothing less.  Are we clear?”

Amelia didn’t quite know what to say.  She was accustomed to strong men.  That was all she knew in her life.  But she was not accustomed to a strong man telling her that she mattered too.  And that he would respect her worthiness.

“We’re clear,” she said.

He stared at her, a moment longer, and then his face moved down toward her lips and he kissed her.  She could tell a lot by a man’s kiss.  And what she could tell about Hammer was that he was not going to be a gentle lover.  He was his namesake: he was going to hammer her.

And he did.  He lifted her up into his arms and kissed her so hard and so passionately that she felt as if he was going to lose all control.  Until she felt what he was feeling.  And then she was lost too.  She dropped her bag, she didn’t give a shit what was in it, and wrapped her arms around him.  She came all the way from the states to be with him.  She wasn’t pretending any longer.  And she was going to let her actions speak for her.

Hammer’s actions were speaking for him as he kissed her.  She tasted as he remembered her tasting: warm and sweet.  And he couldn’t get enough of her.  He lifted her dress, and took it all the way over her head, and she gladly snuggled out of it.

She wore no panties, he realized, and her boldness only made him more excited.  He leaned her against the door, lifted her legs, and began eating her pussy with a ferocity that caused her to scream.  She was squirming against the back of that door as he did her.  She was grabbing his hair, and squeezing it to the roots as he did her.  She lifted her bra, and threw it aside, and began fondling her breasts.  Every inch of her body ached for him.  Every inch of her body craved him.  She wanted him in the worse way.

She got him.  He stopped mouth-fucking her long enough to removed his suit coat, his tie, and to snatch his dress shirt over his head.  He tossed it all aside.  And then he pulled a condom out of his pants pocket, dropped his pants and briefs, and stepped out of them.  And those old biddies at Bulldog’s party were right.  Hammer had a hammer on his hands.  Big and thick as a motherfuck!  She was going to have scars to prove it too.  And she couldn’t wait!

He removed her hands from her breasts and began sucking them hard, like a man who had been trained by vampires, as he put on his super-sized condom.  Then he entered her.  She was so wet, he could feel the warmth.  She was so tight he could barely move inside of her.  He looked into her eyes as he made his attempts.  He could tell it hurt her.  “Want me to stop?” he asked her.

“Don’t you dare!” she responded.

And that broke it wide open for him.  This wasn’t going to work.  It was as if he’d been waiting forever to have her, and he was having her from afar.  They said men sometimes made life and death decisions in a matter of a second.  Hammer made that decision that night.  For them both.

He pulled his fully aroused penis out of her, slung that condom off of it, and rammed it back inside of her.  Raw.  Because he had to have her, all of her, in the worse way.

And this time, he wasn’t trying to see if it hurt.  He knew it did.  But she’d given him the green light, and he took it.

He shoved his penis so deep inside of Amelia with one hard shove that her entire body shuddered.  And felt it was on fire.  And she bucked him as he fucked her.  She rode that rod hard.  She knew he was raw.  She knew what that meant.  But passion was their ruler that night.  And it was a dictator.

Sweat beads were dripping from her breasts, and sweat was dripping from his forehead, as they fucked.  They were like two teenagers having sex for the first time, when neither one of them knew what innocence meant.  They just fucked.  They cast every care they had to the wind, and fucked the shit out of each other.

Amelia came first, when that long lasting, relaxing feeling that gripped her pussy turned hard.  And she could barely contain the euphoria that followed.

Hammer came after her and spilled into her with such a gush that it took him to his knees.  She slid down with him, as they both felt the outpouring, and then he had her on the floor fucking her.  He was on top of her, and wrapped her in his arms, as he fucked her long and hard.  Until another gush came, and another orgasm escaped from her again.

It took several minutes for the last of his cum to come out, and for both of them to stop pulsating.