She yelped and jumped a little – his voice was right next to her. She turned her head and her nose brushed against his chin, startling her again. She jerked back a little, but then his hands were on either side of her face, holding her still so he could kiss her.
Of course, Katya normally kissed with her eyes closed, like a lot of people did. So most of her kissing had technically been done in the dark, but literally doing it in the dark was a new experience for her. She was nervous as she reached her hands up and gripped onto his lapels. Held still while he kissed her thoroughly.
“This is weird,” she breathed when he pulled away.
“Why?” he spoke softly, moving his hands to her hips and pulling her closer to him. She stepped hesitantly, afraid of knocking into anything. She kept her eyes squeezed shut tight, as if that would help some how.
“I don't know, it's so dark. I'm scared of the dark.”
He chuckled at that, and she got prepared for him to make fun of her.
“Don't be scared,” he whispered. “I'm here with you in the dark. You never have to be scared with me.”
When he kissed her that time, she felt her fear start to flow away. Excitement and endorphins took its place. She pressed her tongue against his, moaned when his hands moved to her ass, squeezing hard before sliding up her back and into her hair once again.
He pulled gently on the strands, forcing her head back so he could move his lips over her throat and down to her collar bone. She smoothed her hands along his shoulders, then combed her fingers through his hair. She was feeling so good, she even opened her eyes.
She was shocked to find that she could see. There was light. Only a little, more like a glow. A soft, orange glow, originating from the wall by the door. She finally found the source – one of those scented plug-ins that doubled as a sort of night light. It wasn't enough to fully see everything, but she could get the basic idea of their surroundings.
It was a supply room. Shelves lined the walls on either side of the narrow space, and they were filled with bulk packages of paper towels and toilet paper, cases of glasses, promotional displays, tons of dish towels, napkins, all kinds of random odds and ends a bar might run out of that they'd want close at hand.
“Wulf,” she moaned. “We can't have sex in here.”
“I beg to differ.””
As if to drive his point home, he yanked on the zipper at her back. In one fell swoop, he had it all the way down. The material fell away from her chest but the dress was tight enough to stay clinging to her hips.
“I've never done something like this,” she whispered.
“Good, then I get to be your first,” he said, pushing at the dress, causing it to fall around her feet.
“This is so screwed up. We can't just have sex every time we get into a fight. This isn't … isn't right,” she stressed as he finally stood upright and looked down at her.
“No. No, what isn't right is the fact that I've never seen you in something like this before,” he breathed, stepping back so he could look over her whole body.
She glanced down and realized she was standing in only her sheer bustier, a pair of satin black panties, and her strappy black heels.
“It's only underwear,” she replied, gripping the sink behind her.
“Katya,” he sighed, stepping close enough to touch her. He traced a finger from the hollow in her throat down through her cleavage. “You are too beautiful to sell yourself so short. You, Miss Tocci, are a work of art. Pure perfection.”
Why can't he talk like this all the time? It would make everything so much easier.
She had his tie and jacket off in record time, then he was shoving her up against the shelves next to them, running his leg up between hers. They kissed with passion and tongue and biting teeth, her fingernails clawing at his shirt while his hand dove into her underwear.
No foreplay there – her eyes crossed as two fingers began thrusting in and out of her. She whimpered and dropped her forehead to his shoulder for a moment, trying to catch her breath. Then she bit into her bottom lip and worked shaky hands down his chest, managing to undo the buttons on his shirt.
Everything was happening so fast. She couldn't have stopped it if she wanted to – the room was loud with the sound of their panting, the air growing hot from their body heat. She whimpered and mewled and cried out at everything his lips and fingers were doing to her.
But she didn't stay idle. Once his shirt was unbuttoned, she went to work on his other clothes, yanking his belt clean out of the loops before almost ripping apart his button and fly. Then her hand was down his pants, wrapping her fingers around his dick and making him hiss.
“God, it feels like it's been forever since you've touched me,” he panted, pulling his hand free of her underwear.
“We just had sex the other night,” she reminded him. He snorted and placed his hand on his crotch, wrapping his fingers around hers through his pants.
“We didn't do this the other night,” he replied, stroking up and down, setting the speed and pressure. Both of them groaned.
“Then yes. Yes, it's been forever,” she replied.
“Too long.”
His forehead was pressed against her chest and he let go of his crotch, raising both his hands to squeeze her breasts. She struggled to catch her breath, squirming under his touch.
“Wulf,” she breathed. “Wulf, please.”
He jerked upright, startling her and causing her to let him go. Then his hands were on her ass, squeezing tight and pulling her up. She was lifted off the ground, her legs forced around his hips, and then he held her up, pressing her into the shelves.
“Too much. You're too much for me, I swear,” he was whispering, struggling to use one hand to shove his pants down a little.
“Not enough,” she replied. “I don't think I've ever been enough for you.”
He didn't respond, too busy with shoving the crotch of her panties to one side. She was sliding her hands over his shoulders when he was suddenly very much inside her, so fast it shocked her. She gasped and dug her nails into his muscles before raking them down his chest.
“Too, too much,” he grunted, slamming his hips hard against her.
God, they were making so much noise – she hoped he'd been able to lock the door behind him. A box of napkins tumbled to the floor, breaking open. The shelves were rattling and shaking, shifting against the wall behind them. She was moaning at first, then was kissing him, aggressively and sloppily.
“Jesus, why is it always like this now!? So intense. Too intense,” she gasped when she finally pulled away, stretching her arms out to the side and gripping the shelves. It took some of her weight off him and he was able to free one of his hands, which he immediately ran up her body.
“Because,” he groaned. “If we're slow … you'll think too much … and make a mistake ...”
“A mistake? I – AH!” she cried out, throwing her head back when he leaned down and bit at one of her nipples through the material of her bustier.
“Yes,” he said when her cry turned into another moan. “Because stopping something like this would most definitely be a mistake.”
“Don't stop,” she gasped, looking down at him. “Don't ever stop.”