Chapter 26 ALEX
THE CLICK OF HEELS ON POLISHED MARBLE was the only sound in the lobby as we crossed to the lift, my hand resting on the small of Nancy’s back. Inside, she shifted her hips, dancing from leg to leg, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths as she looked down at her heels.
“Do your feet hurt?”
She looked up, her eyes hungrier than I’d expected. “A little.”
I stepped in and rested my hands on her thighs, then in one swift movement, I lifted her.
She moaned into our kiss, trusting my strength as she wrapped her legs around my waist. I pinned her against the steel wall, my desire piquing as she ground into my crotch.
The doors opened, and I carried her along the corridor while she caught her breath.
She tried in vain to slot the right key into the lock backwards while I nuzzled her neck. “You’re distracting me.”
I snickered and doubled my efforts, breathing in a light floral perfume mixed with the heady scent of her. After a few more tries, she freed the lock, and I pushed inside, nudging the door closed with my foot.
She tossed her bag on the dining table, where a dim light shrouded the long room from pre-set lamps.
I walked to the sofa and lay her on the cushions.
Her legs remained wrapped around me, inviting me to snuggle into her lap.
The kiss we shared wasn’t as hasty as in the lift.
We had time now, and I was going to make every second count.
She moaned low and sweet. I was already hard, but fuck, that sound vibrating against my tongue turned me to granite.
I pressed my hips in and began to grind.
Stiffened denim rubbed against her panties.
She hissed out a “yesss” as I released her mouth and grazed my teeth along her jaw.
She matched my rhythm, circling her hips in desperation to come from the friction.
But before she could reach her peak, and the thump in my blood took over, I pulled away.
“Alex?” she moaned at the loss of my body and her climax.
I looked down at her, breathy and beautiful, lips plump, skirt ruffled up to her waist, exposing her G-string and every inch of her silky legs.
“I’ve got you,” I whispered, and lifted one of her legs so I could trail my nails over her bare buttock, up the smooth line of her hamstring, all the way to her sunshine stiletto.
She squirmed, bowing her back, already more aroused than I’d ever got her.
I loosened the clasp of her ankle strap enough to slide off the heel, and it hit the floor with a thud.
I pressed my thumbs into her arch, massaging along to the soft pad at the base of her toes.
It was such a sublime a release of pressure after a night of confinement that she groaned out in ecstasy.
I took my time, working out every knot of tension, then repeated the sequence on her right foot until she was boneless on the cushions.
I’d never seen a woman react so authentically to my touch. She was completely open and in tune with me. I parted her knees and lowered back on top, my ridged zipper pressing in demandingly. She folded her arms around my back and bathed in my warmth.
“Can I pleasure you, bella?” I whispered, trailing kisses to her ear.
“I don’t know, can you?” she managed with a snigger.
“Ah, a challenge,” I purred with delight. “I gladly accept.”
I traced my tongue around the ridge of her ear to the large gold hoop, then tugged the edge of the soft lobe between my teeth just enough to make her writhe against my body.
My lips followed the column of her neck down to her shoulder.
I slipped the strap of her dress and explored the dip of her clavicle, lingering on each part like a ceremony.
With one hand, I flicked the belt buckle free, then popped each button on the front of the dress, marking kisses like an arrow down her cleavage as I went.
She felt incredible, soft and sinuous, filling my hand as I kneaded her breast. I drew my mouth across and sucked the bead of her nipple, soaking the lace.
She hissed an inhale and drove her nails into my shirt, scraping down my back. I fought the urge to pin her arms above her head as I usually would’ve when a woman lost her composure, and instead locked my mouth over the top of her breast, branding her with a love bite.
“Shit!” she cried out hot and breathy, squirming beneath my weight.
I returned to her nipple for a second round. Every move was mine because she allowed it, and now she had, there would be no half-measures. I moved over to her other breast for the same treatment. She sank into the cushions, running her fingers through my hair in surrender.
I pulled her dress apart, exposing the gentle contours of her body. Every inch a woman. With relish, my eyes traced what came before and what was yet to come.
“You’re gorgeous,” I murmured and kissed along the faint striations marking her stomach.
Her diaphragm quivered as my tongue circled her navel, teasing the entrance before licking down to the top of her G-string—black and sparkling with woven golden strands that made a wave pattern across the small triangle of fabric.
Knelt on the floor, between her legs, I watched her heavy-lidded gaze focus on me. I gave her a playful smile, then grasped her thighs and yanked her closer.
“God, yes!” she bit out with a whimper.
I slid my fingers under the lace strings and pulled her panties up and over her legs. She’d left a perfect little bikini line of dark curls for me, the rest of her skin freshly shaved smooth in preparation for this moment. “You ready?”
“P—Please,” she managed.
I spread her legs wide, exposing her sex, already slick with arousal, and caught sight of a curious mark on her right upper thigh.
A little thumb-sized x, slightly raised.
Intrigued, I traced it with the tip of my tongue and felt her skin prickle.
I continued, kissing up the line of soft skin to her nest of curls where I nuzzled in, savouring her scent.
She was sweet and potent, so deliciously feminine it made me salivate and my dick ache painfully against my zipper, but I put lust aside to concentrate solely on her.
My first lick caused her to jolt with shock. “Deep breaths, bella. Try to relax. I'm going to make you feel so good,” I said, interlocking our fingers and placing my forearms over her thighs to keep her wide. I waited for her trembling inhale and exhale, then went to work.
I began lower, teasing her lips with kisses, then licked upwards, avoiding her knot of nerves. She fidgeted, and I tightened my grip around her. I circled the hood of her clit with the tip of my tongue over and over, waiting for her to writhe against me before I enclosed the bead and sucked.
She cried out my name, gripping me like a vice. I squeezed her hand in reassurance, then freed it so I could spread her with finger and thumb. I licked down to her opening, unable to get enough of her taste—tart and sweet and all her.
“Oh, god, please!” she begged through ragged moans as I feasted. The pad of my thumb teased the head of her now swollen clit, bringing her to the edge of an orgasm as I knew it would. It was tried and tested.
Her hands gripped down on my shoulders, her toes curled into my flank, her gasps came fast and involuntary, lost to the feeling. I readied for her climax, dying to hear that sweet sound from her lips after so much restraint.
I took it up a notch, licking up to her clit, and running my finger along her soft lips to her little hole. Slowly, I pressed inside to her deep groan.
“You’re so snug,” I murmured, although ‘snug’ wasn’t the word. She was almost unyieldingly tight to the point I was concerned I’d never fit.
I teased her wider to the sounds of her moans of pleasure until I could slide in a second digit, filling her a little more with each stroke.
The feel of her hot flesh gripping my fingers was so delicious, and her reactions so visceral, my animal brain grew desperate to free my belt and fuck her over the edge.
But what if she’s a virgin? The thought shot through my mind like an arrowhead, and I stilled. No, she would’ve said something.
“Alex, please,” Nancy moaned in frustration, and I shook it, sliding my fingers back inside. I maintained an even pace, thrusting to the knuckles while sucking in just the way I knew made a woman fall apart. She built back up to the same point as before, but again, something refused to let go.
The minutes passed as she rode the rough edge of her peak, squirming and panting to come.
I didn’t stop, and she didn’t ask me to.
Maybe she hadn’t had an orgasm in a long time, I thought, panic rising.
I considered stopping, but I was too invested in the moment and what it meant for us.
I wanted this badly, and so did she. She would come on my fingers, no question, no debate.
“Give it to me,” I growled against her clit. It was my baritone command that threw her over.
Nancy’s climax was like nothing I’d ever encountered before.
Her chest pressed skywards with a guttural cry, then her whole body tremored as muscles contracted and loosened, desperately holding on and pushing away.
It was such an incredible release, I continued circling the hood of her clit, drawing out her orgasm.
After a time, her contractions settled, her hormones sedating her until she was limp on the sofa—that was when I heard her sob. It was small at first, but quickly grew. I sat bolt upright.
“Nancy?” Her hands covered her face as she trembled, crying. My chest hollowed. “What happened? Did I hurt you?” I scrambled up and stroked her hands, tempting them from her eyes. “Nancy, please look at me.” When her lids finally blinked open, she was barely there at all.
Everything felt too exposed.
I wrapped her dress back around her and drew her into my arms. She fisted my shirt, then grasped at my back, trying to burrow in. “You’re safe, baby, it’s okay,” I repeated, lifting her gently and carrying her to the bed while she wept on my shoulder.
I left her on the bed as I searched for a T-shirt, then removed her dress and pulled it over her head, desperate to cover her distress.
Mascara had bled onto her cheeks, so I retrieved her makeup wipes and cleansed her face, then carefully removed each of her hoop earrings.
Nancy sat quiet and withdrawn throughout.
I climbed into the bed beside her, still fully clothed, and rocked her in my arms, unsure if she even knew I was there.
In time, Nancy slept, her face buried in my chest, tears still wet on my shirt.
But I couldn’t settle. I lay awake, stroking her hair.
Thinking. After some time, I drew back, tucking the duvet in tight to keep her comforted.
She was so asleep she didn’t stir. I quietly shut the bedroom door and went to the kitchen.
Daylight had broken long before, although I could see through the window that the street was quiet.
I pulled out my phone to check the time.
It was only 5:45 a.m.. I paused momentarily, staring at the display, lost in a thought, but I put it aside, instead retrieving a can of black coffee from the fridge.
I sipped the bitter cold brew and looked around the room.
Nancy’s panties and heels were strewn by the sofa. She didn’t need that reminder when she woke. I put them on a chair and looked up to see her discarded clutch atop the table.
I hesitated as the thought returned, then I reached inside the opening, finding her phone and a keychain without a key.
Instead, the pink pompom charm had a personal alarm and a long piece of metal attached.
Checking the end, it looked like a window breaker.
It seemed an odd choice for someone who rode a motorcycle, but it could work for self-defence.
I put it back and took up her phone, feeling its weight in my palm, not just physically but what it contained—what it might tell me. I also clocked its make.
Having spent the last seven years designing state-of-the-art applications, I was well-versed in the design flaws of different mobile operating systems. That was why, when I crept back into the bedroom, activated the facial recognition, and held it before Nancy’s sleeping face, I knew that this particular OS wouldn’t evaluate whether the subject’s eyes were open.
I returned to a dining chair to examine the display.
It sickened me that I would stoop this low and break her privacy even further, but my concern and curiosity overcame my ethics as I sat draped in the early morning hue.
After Nancy’s panic attack and her repeated distress after our intimacy, I needed answers.
Why didn’t she trust me? The irony wasn’t lost as I gazed at the display, feeling terrified I was falling for a woman I didn’t understand, one who held a dark secret.
I don’t know how much you know about her, but…she’s fragile, AJ’s words repeated in my mind. It drove me over the edge.
First, I went to her phonebook, surprised to find only a handful of contacts and a few outbound calls—work, dentist, her mum—all ordinary.
I checked through her messages, searching for any mention of me or clues to her past. There was nothing except the thoughts of a bright, funny, and considerate person.
Next, I checked her health apps (most of which my company had designed) to review past appointments, medications, or test results that might point to anything triggering.
Except for the fitting of an IUD a few years back, there was nothing—no anti-depressants, no out-of-the-ordinary examinations, no regular check-ups or tests at all, in fact.
Not that this was surprising. I knew from the national health data used to create our algorithm that her demographic was much less likely to engage with primary care services.
Nancy hadn’t installed any social media apps as she had no accounts, but she did have YouTube. However, this only had a few saved university lectures and a music video playlist I made a mental note to check out later.
There was nothing that rang any alarm bells.
Lastly, I set up the Find Device app, enabling me to track her in case some influence was affecting her day-to-day life.
I justified this by setting my phone’s location on her handset so she could find me in return…
If she looked. Once done, I placed the phone back in her clutch and went to the kitchen to make something for our breakfast.