Nichy turned on her side. Her thighs felt like sticky silk, and between her legs throbbed with a delicious soreness. When she rolled on her back, she discovered her backside was bruised.And he was there, his arm across her body possessively. She was his, in this moment, if never again.
The business trip had been unexpected. That morning, an unexpected sick colleague, and she had to go to London in their place. Tyler helped her to get packed–throwing everything into her suitcase that she might need, and compensating for what was not there in London.
London reminded her so much of New York.
She wandered around Camden Lock where one of her former colleagues she used to work with lived…at a job way before this one. Carole looked bohemian and lovely as usual, in a dress that barely covered anything. When they went to a bar near Camden Lock, Nichy saw him–the man whose arm was now across her sprawled out body–and was sure he was looking at Carole.
But he was looking at her.
He had no reserve in ordering another round for them, before their drinks were finished.
When she spoke to him, as he walked over, she saw the timbre of her American accent caress his cheekbones.
“Where in the States are you from?” he smiled.
He might as well have said would you like to take off your panties? with the thick, delicious accent that he had.
When her panties did come off, he did not ask her. He pulled them off roughly, slapped her bottom and clutched her hips as if for dear life. They fucked like it was life and death, Nichy wanted something that mirrored what she had at home. They barely spoke in the bar. Their lust was so thick, words were liquified and useless between them.
She did not know what he was running from as he buried himself in her, but he fucked with an intensity that scared and captivated her.
Her body ruminated now with what had taken place between them, and she was not sure how she wanted to address it when he woke up.