As Beck approached the light switches, he heard Sukol yell out. “Whatever happens, make sure you kill Stepanovich.”
Beck answered by flipping on the overhead fluorescent lights as he ducked back into the tunnel between the two buildings. He checked his watch. Maybe he could get two hours of sleep. He needed ten.
59
When she entered his room, he was on his back, fully clothed except for his shoes, completely motionless, having fallen into a deep exhausted sleep.
Olivia sat on the bed next to him and laid her left hand on his chest, the one with the cast. The weight of it made Beck open his eyes.
She didn’t say a word. She waited, hovering over him until he focused on her face. Then she slowly leaned down and kissed him, taking her time, exploring his lips, her soft, full breasts just barely touching his chest.
She sat up and stared down at Beck.
The only light in the room came from a small lamp on Beck’s night table, turned half on. He checked the clock next to the lamp. 9:30.
Beck looked back at her.
Perhaps she’d come in to wake him before ten o’clock, when she was supposed to leave.
But this was not just a wake up. They both knew what this was.
What Beck didn’t know, was what he wanted to do about it. Reject her? Why? Just to show her that he was one man she couldn’t control?
Still, neither one of them spoke.
Beck could have reached up and gently pushed her aside so he could sit up. Or he could have reached up and touched her face, but he did neither.
Doing nothing ensured that something would happen.
She began to unbutton Beck’s shirt with her good right hand. Her encased left hand resting on his shoulder.
Before she reached the third button, Beck got up and started undressing himself.
Olivia stood up with him. She had changed from the white shirt into a black, long-sleeved knit top. She lifted it up and over her head, taking it off and letting it fall to the floor. She slid down her jeans and stepped out of them.
As he watched her, Beck unbuckled his belt and slipped off his black jeans.
Olivia waited, letting him see her in the flimsy underwear he’d seen hanging on the shower curtain rod at the Four Seasons. She looked even better than he’d imagined she would.
Beck stood wearing only his briefs. They looked at each other’s bodies, taking in the sight, both of them now seeing what they had pictured in their minds’ eyes.
He knew she was going to stand there until he moved for her. It would be the first time he reached for her. And she was going to wait, standing tall, unmoving, unflinching in her sheer black bra and black lace thong.
Beck smiled. The fucking bra and panties had to be black, didn’t they? He could see her nipples, dark areoles and a strip of pubic hair through the sheer material. There was no goddamn way this wasn’t going to happen.
Beck stepped forward, slowly put his arm around Olivia, and pulled her to him. Her skin, unimaginably soft and smooth, felt like a balm to him. Her lush body glowed with an inner heat. She put her long arms around him, held him, and kissed him again.
Beck didn’t want even the thin lacy fabric of her bra and panties between them. He unclipped her bra. It fell to the floor. He let go of her and sat back on the bed, reaching up to slide the thin straps of her thong down over her hips.
Olivia let the panties fall. She stepped out of her last bit of clothing and knelt in front of Beck to take off his shorts.
Beck lay back on the bed and lifted his hips so Olivia could strip him.
She spread his legs, and hands on his thighs, bent forward taking him in her mouth. Her thick dark hair fell over his lap as she moved. He could have let her do that for a long time, but he took her arms and pulled her up so he could see her face. Her skin glowed in the faint light from the lamp next to his bed.
For a fleeting moment, he thought about the fact that depending on what happened in the next hours, this very well might be the last woman he would ever make love to. And then he realized, no, there’s no love here. This is just sex. Just excruciating lust and sex. Without apologies.
He stopped thinking about what might happen to him. He refused to think about what might happen to Olivia.
Beck moved back onto his bed, Olivia following, swinging her long leg over him, gently coming to rest on top of him, straddling his hips, her soft backside against the rigidity of his almost painfully hard erection.
There was no pretense, no guile, no preening. Just the clear naked fact of it happening, now. Finally.
She placed both hands on his chest to steady herself as she rose up.
The cast on her left hand felt rough on Beck’s skin, reminding him of how unlike any other situation this was.
She maneuvered Beck inside her with her right hand, and he heard Olivia hiss with pleasure, a sound unlike any he had ever heard from any other woman.
She straightened up, then settled down even farther on him, pressing down and moving him all the way inside her as deep as possible. She pivoted her hips gently so as to completely engulf him. Beck felt her squeeze his cock, almost grabbing it, almost as if to say “this is mine. I have you now.”
Beck watched her. He put his hands on her thighs, feeling the taut muscles of her legs, sliding his hands up to her hips, seeing the muscles in her stomach flex, watching the sway of her amazing breasts. He smiled at how absurdly perfect she was. Elegantly long and thin, and at the same time so full and feminine and sensuous. Her saw her eyes, her face, her thick gleaming hair.
She kept working him now. Pleasuring herself, pleased at knowing whatever she did, Beck would be swept up in it.
Beck let himself give in to her rhythm, timing soft thrusts into her, just to communicate that he was with her. She was clearly fucking him, clearly in charge, intent on gleaning every ounce of pleasure she could.