Chapter Salzburg, September 25 #3
My eyes pop open. It′s still dark, but dawn's gray light filters through the curtains.
“Hey,” I whisper, nudging her ear. “You wanted to watch the sunrise with me, so it′s time to get up.”
She blinks lazily and closes her eyes again. “I′d like to sleep,” she mutters.
I stroke her curled backside, grinning.
“Sweet dreams, then,” I smirk and reach for a condom, and roll it on.
She does not open her eyes when I start teasing her entrance, but her pussy melts under my touch. Slick wetness coats my finger as I slide it in.
I lift her upper leg for better access and slowly, carefully slide into the salty heaven of her cunt. She moans, dropping the sleep pretense entirely.
“That′s the best alarm I′ve ever woken up to,” she purrs.
“Time for a little morning workout then,” I grin and shove deeper, quickening my thrusts.
I flip her onto her stomach, yanking her hips up, ass perfect, cunt glistening from us, and I smack it once, sharp, watching it jiggle as she moans into the pillow.
"On your knees then. Let's see how loud you get when I claim you from behind."
I thrust in deep, balls slapping her clit, her walls fluttering like she's made for me. My hands grip her hips firmly, pulling her back onto every pounding stroke. She pushes back, grinding filthy circles, one hand sneaking under to rub herself, whimpers turning feral.
"Harder, Thomas, fuck me like you mean it."
I oblige, railing her relentless, sweat-slick skin slapping, my hand fisting her hair to arch her back, mouth at her ear: "You're mine tonight, every scream, every squirt."
She breaks spectacularly, body convulsing, drenching my thighs as I follow, pumping her full, collapsing in a tangle of limbs.
By morning, we're spent, Prosecco warm, music off, bodies marked, spent beyond counting.
"Stay till checkout," I murmur, arm banded around her. Whatever her name, she's carved into me deeper than any race win.
But I′m spent, morning light breaks lazily through the curtains, and I can′t hold my eyes open anymore. As morning comes, my own private night closes around me, and I fall asleep with her perfect tit in one hand.
***
Her pussy was delicious. I will never forget the taste and how tightly she clenched around my cock.
I would fall asleep with my hand holding her perfect breast, knowing I wanted to own every piece of this woman.
Not that she would let me.
She would not let go of her control. At every second, she was sure of what she wanted.
And ready to take it.
The way she touched herself, making herself come, I have never seen a woman do that so openly.
It irked me, too. I was ready to take away that control the first minute we woke up.
To fuck her senseless again.
But when I opened my eyes, she was gone.
Like a dream.
Two glasses on the nightstand and used condoms in the bin proved this was no dream.
As perfect as she was, she was real.
I reach for my phone, half-hoping she left her number.
Or at least her damn name.
No such luck.
I open Instagram. She’s a journalist; she’s got to be somewhere in the endless scroll of followers. There must be a way to track her down.
Maybe that’s what she wants.
Women like to play these kinds of games, right?
At least they do in the movies.
I sit up, rub my eyes, and head for the bathroom.
Cold water hits my face, sharp enough to bring my brain back online, taking control from my betraying dick.
Then it hits me: the dinner.
Her clever words.
The way she saw straight through me.
I walk back to the bed and shut off my phone.
As nice as it was, maybe she’s got more sense than I do.
I don’t need a woman like that in my life.
I definitely don't need such a distraction.
Not with the Olympic season coming and my focus already thin.
I gather my things and open the door, bracing myself for the shit the guys will give me for not returning before the morning light.
I shoot one more glance inside the room.
The crumpled sheets silent, just as the statement I am not about to make.
With a deep sigh, I shut the door, the sound echoing through the hallway.
***
Salzburg, September 25
Katharina
The mountains outside my window are perfect. Postcard-perfect. And about as warm as heartbreak. Sharp blue sky, fresh snow on the peaks. Perfect. And completely indifferent to human heartache.
I'm on the couch in sweatpants, mug in hand, trying not to reread the same skiing article for the third time. It's about Thomas Kern, of course. Another flawless training session, another stunning sponsor contract. Another media quote about how focused he seems before the season even starts.
I close the tab, grab the mug, and find the coffee in it cold.
So long did I spend rereading the article, throat tight, eyes stinging, and heart racing.
What am I doing?
It was just one night. Just a dinner. Just a sunrise. Not that we watched it. Too busy pretending it meant nothing.
It's not that I'd expect roses and perfumes.
If I had thought there was a chance for something more with him or wanted anything more, I wouldn't have jumped into bed with him so soon. I saw a chance and took it. I didn’t even care if he knew my name.
Though it was kind of adorable, how he kept avoiding it—too embarrassed to admit he never caught it.
I sigh. Cute. Brilliant. Fascinating. And gone.
My phone buzzes.
Maddie: Remember that team comms job I told you about? They're finally hiring. You NEED to apply NOW.
I stare at the screen, heart thudding.
Am I this excited about a job or the bed stuff?
No, Katharina, this is a chance of a lifetime.
Right, and like hell will I let one cocky smile and sculpted body ruin it for me. I will apply, and I will get the job.
And Thomas Kern? He can wait. My future won’t.