Lena’s fingers tremble as she pushes down the handle. The rain has soaked through her t-shirt, it clings to her skin like a second, cool layer. “You’re shaking,” Marc states, his voice a rough whisper that fills the narrow hallway. He closes the door behind her – a soft click that locks the world outside. She laughs, a brittle sound that fades in the silence. “Just wet. The walk was longer than I thought.” She tucks a wet strand behind her ear and feels his gaze, heavy and warm, like a touch. They’ve lived next to each other for two years – stairwell encounters, a nod, a smile – but today she’s in his apartment for the first time. His hand hesitates on the latch, as if he’s reconsidering letting her in. But he invited her, in the stairwell, as they brushed past each other, soaking wet and laughing. “Come up for a sec, I’ll get you a towel.” A sentence that sets everything in motion.
He hands her a fluffy towel, and while she dries her arms, he stands there, hands buried in his jeans, appraising her. A tension lies between them, pent up like the dark clouds outside. Lena knows about the girlfriend – a pretty blonde who sometimes stays for the weekend. He knows about Thomas, her boyfriend, who travels a lot for work. But today, in this room, those people seem like shadows at the edge.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Marc says, gesturing to the sofa. “I’ll get us something to drink.” She sinks into the soft cushions and listens to the clinking of glasses in the kitchen. The rain drums against the windows, a relentless rhythm that underscores the silence. When he returns, two glasses of red wine in hand, he sits closer to her than necessary – his thigh brushes hers. She takes a sip, the wine is velvety, with notes of cherry and a hint of vanilla. It warms her stomach and relaxes her shoulders. She closes her eyes briefly, enjoying the moment of security. When she opens them, she sees he’s still looking at her, with an expression that wavers between hesitation and desire.
Their fingers touch as she takes the glass. A brief startle that turns into a smile. “Cheers,” she says. The wine is heavy, warms from the inside and loosens the tension in her shoulders. Marc sets his glass down and turns to her. “You know,” he begins, “I saw you at the window this morning. You were dancing, to the music from your headphones. All for yourself.”
Blood rushes to her cheeks. “You were watching me?”
“Just a moment. It looked beautiful. Free.” His hand now rests on the back of her knee, a light touch asking for permission. She nods, barely perceptibly, and his fingers slowly stroke the sensitive skin behind her knee. A shiver runs through her body – not from the cold. “Marc…” His name sounds like a question, a confession. She feels her stomach tighten, her heart beat faster. She wants to tell him that she craves this too, but the words get stuck in her throat.
“Don’t say anything,” he whispers, leans forward, and kisses her. A hesitant kiss that quickly gains intensity. She tastes the wine on his tongue, his warmth, his closeness. She returns the kiss, lets herself sink into the cushions, while his hand slowly travels from her knee up her thigh. The touch burns through the thin fabric of her shorts. She moans softly into his mouth and opens her legs to give him more room. His fingers glide along the inside of her thigh, leaving a trail of fire. She can’t help it, she presses her thighs together, trapping his hand, pressing it tighter against her.
“I want this,” she gasps between breaths. “But we…”
“I know.” He looks at her, eyes dark with desire. “Just this once. Today. Tomorrow everything will be like before.”
She nods, even though deep down she feels that nothing will be the same. But the thought is too distant, too unimportant, as Marc’s lips travel down her neck and his hand slides under her t-shirt. She raises her arms, he pulls the garment over her head, tosses it carelessly to the floor. His gaze on her naked breasts is full of hunger, making her feel desired like she hasn’t in a long time. She leans forward, kisses him again, while his thumbs stroke over her nipples, turning them into hard buds. A shiver of pleasure shoots through her body, and she presses against him.
“My God, Lena,” he breathes, bends down, and takes one of her nipples between his lips. A stifled sound escapes her as his tongue circles it – a soft, wet vortex sending signals straight to her core. She digs her fingers into his hair, pulls him tighter against her. He switches to the other side, while his hand caresses the free mound, arching her back. She feels her nipples glisten with moisture, and the sight arouses her even more.
She’s already wet when his fingers find the waistband of her shorts and push the fabric aside. He strokes over her panties, feels the heat radiating from her. “You’re so wet,” he states, a hint of pride in his voice. She writhes under his grip, wanting to feel him, completely, without barriers. “Marc, please…” Her whisper is hoarse, urgent.
He understands. In one fluid motion, he pulls off her shorts and panties, kneels before her on the carpet. The falling light casts shadows on his features. He pushes her thighs apart, bends over her. “I want to taste you,” he says, and then he lowers his head. She feels his hot breath on her most intimate place before his tongue touches her. The first contact of his tongue with her clit is a shock of pure pleasure. A scream she stifles with her hand, while Marc explores her wet slit with flat, long strokes. He sucks gently on the little pearl, circles it with the tip of his tongue, dips briefly inside her, then travels back up. Lena claws at the carpet, her hips lifting involuntarily to meet him. Deep in her belly, the orgasm builds, a wave growing powerful. “Not yet,” she moans, but she also doesn’t want him to stop. Marc grins against her skin, changes tempo, slows down, drawing out the tension. He slips two fingers inside her while he keeps licking, and she cries out softly. The feeling of fullness drives her to the edge of the abyss.
Only when she’s trembling and begging for more does he straighten up, hastily stripping off his shirt and jeans. His cock stands stiff and ready, the tip glistening wet. She opens her arms, pulls him onto her. “Come inside me,” she whispers, and he obeys.
As he enters her, it feels a
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