Heat, Nikko

I feathered my fingers on the sensitive spot just inside her entrance.

"Oh God!" She bowed. She was clutching the edges of the counter again. I feathered her again and her lip popped out from under her teeth on a gasp. Her boobs bobbed with her ragged pants. "More."

"More what?"

"More!"

I chuckle rose in my throat. I couldn't stop its escape. Katie looked pissed. I caught her holy-crap-I-didn't-know-anyone-could-have-eyes-that-beautiful eyes with mine and I rubbed my fingers over the spot again. This time I gave her a little more pressure.

Katie's face blanked. Those oh-fucking-God-gorgeous eyes rolled up. She trembled and her body retreated in a chiropractic wave. I rubbed her again. She screamed and liquid heat washed my hand. I kept the pressure up while she kicked and trembled. Her core spilled a second time.

"Oh God. Oh fuck. Nikko, fuck." She was trembling, twisting and shaking. She was looking in my eyes again. Her nose wrinkled. Panic washed over her expression and congealed within her gaze. She pinched her nose. She lifted her head. Her face turned red.

Katie sneezed.

She jerked into a ball while more girl jizz sprayed from her core. What the fuck was that? Had she sneezed herself an orgasm?

It happened a second time. She was going to dehydrate at this rate. "Katie?"

Katie shook her head. She rolled over on her belly, grasped the far edge of the island countertop and buried her head between her arms. "Fuck me." Her voice was muffled. Her butt was pressed against my lap.

I rested my hand on one cheek of her heart shaped ass and stepped back to drop trou. Something twisted in my stomach at the sight of this perfect woman. I massaged her butt with my right hand while I unbuckled myself with my left. I had been waiting half my life for a babe like her. It was wrong. She wasn't mine. I was going to fuck her and leave. Damnit, I was mad.

I hadn't realized I'd raised my hand until it crashed into her flesh. Sting exploded in my hand. Angry red, in the shape of my open palm, painted the right side of her ass. Her back bent as she raised her belly off the counter. Her knuckles whitened and it sounded like she'd bit her lip when she screamed.

"More"

"Katie"

"MORE!"

I spanked her. God, I spanked her. Fuck I needed to mark this woman, make her ass glow red. I wasn't allowed to keep her so I wanted her to remember me every time she sat down for the next week. She twisted and writhed but she kept her ass presented for my hand. She cried out with every blow but each time I stopped she roared for more. Finally, I couldn't hit her one more time.

"MORE!" she screamed when I stopped.

"No!" I grabbed her hips. Shit, her ass was red. If it were like a sunburn, she'd blister. Fuck, I had not wanted to damage her.

"Nikko!" Katie's voice was hard, demanding. She wanted me to spank her and I suddenly realized she wanted me to punish her. She was feeling as guilty as I. Damnit!

"No, Katie." I pulled her hips towards me until she was stretched across the counter. I kicked her legs open. "Tell me to stop!"

"No!" She braced herself.

Holy fuck. I had not expected that. My jeans had dropped to my knees. My hot rod was so stiff it fucking hurt. It was like a heat seeking missile and she was right there. I swear I could feel her from here. I tried to pry my fingers from her hips but it was like they'd cramped in place. My hands were fucking shaking.

"What?" I heard the confusion in her exclamation. A beat cycled. "No! I meant no, don't stop! Fuck me, Nikko!"

Relief and horror swamped me. Relief because I wanted nothing more than to fuck her. Horror because this would be the only time I'd get to fuck her. I stepped into her. My cock slipped in her lube and road up the crack of her ass.

She shivered. Her muscles flexed and I'm pretty sure she clenched. Fuck, this woman. I hot-dogged her ass. She twisted and moaned like she could come from just that. But then—

"Nikko, please, God, in me."

I realigned. I pushed in, feeling her stretch around me. She was throbbing. It felt good. Too good. My brain scrambled and I latched onto that time some soccer mom had turned her minivan into me at the intersection of Gentile and Fairfield. The memory of skidding across the asphalt in my leathers might be the only thing that could stop me from exploding. That might not even be enough because Katie was hot, and wet, and felt so unbelievable good.

"Uh..." Fuck. Shit. "Katie?" I choked on her name. "Condom?"

She cycled her hips. I thought she was pulling off, but then she slammed back into me. "I" She cycled again. "Don't" She crashed her ass into my lap. "Care!"

Oh God. I was going to come. In her. I had to hold it off. Pull out. Fire on her ass. No birth control was a hundred percent and some twisted part of me rejoiced in the thought she might get pregnant. If I left her a gift, I'd have a reason to stay in her life.

I wasn't worried about disease. I can't say why, but I'm pretty sure she'd never had sex with anyone but her husband. The fact that I was in her, the fact she was so...zealous, suggested he didn't do much for her. In a weird twisted way, I was her first fuck.

A crash sounded. A lunchbox spilt on the floor. A thermos rolled into view from behind the island. The short stocky, nondescript man from the wedding pictures stood in the doorway to what must've been the garage. He was wearing NOMEX coveralls that were smudge with oil and dirt. I had zero idea what Katie saw in him but I could smell the bearing grease. That, at least as far as I was concerned, was one check in the pros column.

"Carl?" Katie's voice was a squeak. Her core synched down so hard I was saw fucking stars. I tried to pull out but it was too late. Instead, I thrust into her. Our thighs met. I pushed in further.

I was both thick and long. Some babes found it uncomfortable when I bottomed out. But I couldn't help myself. Katie buried her head between her stretched arms and bowed her back in a way that lifted her belly off the counter. Her core fluttered and then bore down. She did another one of those lip biting screams and—

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

We came together.

***

My pants were up. Katie was holding her ruined shirt closed. Curtis was screaming at us. I tried to listen. I really did. I'd fucked this guy's wife and I deserved everything he wanted to dish out. Katie was ignoring him. Instead she was looking at me. There was blood on her teeth but she was still biting her lip. Holy fuck, if Curtis weren't here I be kissing her, blood or not, until we both saw stars. She put her palm on my chest.

"Go"

What the fuck? I wasn't leaving her here to face this alone. Not that I was facing it, I couldn't hear the dude. His rant was like one of those teachers in a Peanuts cartoon. He could've been using a bull horn, but as long as this woman was standing here looking at me like that, I'd not heart anything but her.

"Go," she said again. She gave me a gentle nudge.

"No"

Katie closed her eyes. When she opened them she said, "We started this when he asked and I said, 'yes.' But he's not happy. I'm not happy. I need to end it, for both our sakes. Go."

"Katie..."

"Please go."

Fuck. It was her house. She had every right to ask me to leave. I God damn didn't want to but I left. Katie followed me to the door. Curtis followed screaming. She caught my hand and slipped something into it. It was flexible and rectangular. The edges bit into the softer flesh of my hand. She gifted me a sad smile, and holy fuck, my heart cracked.

Katie shut the door.

I don't know how I got home but at some point my awareness returned from whatever black place it had fled to. I was sitting in my Maserati which was parked in my garage. I had no idea how long I'd been here. I could still feel her gift in my hand. I had a death grip on it. I rolled my hand over and found a business card.

It was an expensive card. One of those ones made from cotton paper. For paper, it was heavy.

The card was wedding cake white. An architecture company's name was scrawled across it in gold letters. In the lower left was Katie Fischer's married name followed by a whole bunch of letters such as EIT CIV. Her title was junior structural architect. There was a business address, websites, email and three phone numbers.

There was a crease in the paper. There was the slightest hint of a nude color where nail polish had rubbed off as Katie had dug her thumbnail into the paper. She'd given me her cellular number.