"You're going too hard," Ava gasped, her voice a breathless mix of protest and pleasure as Julian slid his cock into her, the slow, deliberate thrust sending a shockwave through her body. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, nails biting into the taut muscle as she arched against him, pinned between his relentless heat and the cool leather of the couch in his Manhattan penthouse. The city skyline glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a distant blur of neon and starlight, but here, in this moment, the world was just the two of them skin on skin, breath on breath, a collision of raw need.
Julian paused, his dark eyes locking onto hers, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Too hard?" he murmured, his voice low and rough, laced with a teasing edge. "Thought you liked it that way, Ava." He didn't move, holding himself still inside her, letting the tension build, his hands gripping her hips with just enough pressure to make her pulse race.
She glared up at him, her auburn hair splayed across the couch like a halo of fire, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. "I do," she admitted, her lips parting in a defiant smile, "but I'm not made of glass. Ease up, or I'm flipping you over and taking charge."
His smirk widened, a spark of challenge in his gaze. "Promises, promises." But he adjusted, his movements slowing, each thrust now deliberate, deeper, drawing a soft moan from her that she couldn't suppress. Ava's legs tightened around his waist, pulling him closer, her body responding to every shift, every angle, as if they'd memorized each other's rhythms over these past three months. No strings attached that was the deal. Just sex. Pure, uncomplicated, mind-blowing sex. But the way her heart pounded, the way his touch lingered a fraction too long, hinted at something neither of them wanted to name.
The penthouse was a cocoon of modern luxury sleek black furniture, polished marble floors, and the faint hum of jazz from a speaker somewhere in the room. They hadn't bothered with lights; the city's glow was enough, casting shadows that danced across their bodies. Ava's black lace lingerie lay discarded on the floor, tangled with Julian's shirt, a casualty of their impatient hands. It had started an hour ago, with a single text from her You free? and his reply,Get over here. No pretense, no small talk. That was their arrangement, forged in a haze of tequila shots and a one-night stand that had somehow become a regular thing.
Now, as Julian moved inside her, his hands slid up her thighs, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin where her hips met her waist. Ava arched again, her breath hitching as he found a rhythm that made her toes curl. "Fuck, Julian," she whispered, her voice raw, her hands sliding down his back, tracing the hard lines of muscle, the faint scars she'd never asked about. He was a mystery she didn't want to solve, a six-foot puzzle of sharp jawlines, dark hair, and eyes that saw too much. But God, he knew how to touch her.
"You say my name like that, and I'm not slowing down," he growled, leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss that was all heat and hunger. His tongue teased hers, matching the rhythm of his hips, and Ava kissed him back, fierce and unyielding, her teeth grazing his lower lip just enough to make him groan. The sound vibrated through her, stoking the fire building low in her belly.
She pushed against his chest, not to stop him but to shift the dynamic, rolling them until she was on top, straddling him without breaking their connection. Julian's hands settled on her hips, guiding but not controlling, his eyes dark with approval as she took over. "There's my girl," he said, voice thick with desire, and Ava shot him a look.
"Not your girl," she corrected, her hands braced on his chest as she moved, setting a pace that made them both gasp. "Just your… distraction."
He laughed, a low, rough sound that sent a shiver through her. "One hell of a distraction." His fingers tightened on her hips, urging her faster, and Ava obliged, losing herself in the rhythm, the heat, the way their bodies fit together like they were made for this. The couch creaked beneath them, the leather slick with sweat, but neither cared. The world outside could burn for all it mattered right now, it was just this, just them, just the electric pulse of pleasure that threatened to unravel her.
Ava leaned forward, her hair falling around them like a curtain, and kissed him again, slower this time, savoring the taste of him whiskey and want. Julian's hands roamed, one sliding up her spine, the other cupping her breast, thumb brushing her nipple until she gasped into his mouth. Every touch was a spark, every movement a flame, and she could feel herself teetering on the edge, her body tightening around him.
"Julian," she breathed, half warning, half plea, and he knew exactly what she needed. His hand slipped between them, fingers finding the spot that made her see stars, circling with just the right pressure. Ava's head fell back, a moan tearing from her throat as the tension snapped, waves of pleasure crashing through her. Julian followed moments later, his grip on her hips bruising as he groaned her name, his own release shuddering through him.
For a long moment, they stayed like that, tangled together, breathing hard, the aftershocks still rippling through them. Ava collapsed onto his chest, her skin flushed, her heart pounding against his. The city hummed outside, indifferent to the storm they'd just weathered. Julian's hand rested on her lower back, his touch softer now, almost tender, and Ava tensed.
"Don't," she said quietly, lifting her head to meet his gaze. "Don't get soft on me. We're not doing that."
His lips quirked, but there was something unreadable in his eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it." He shifted, helping her sit up, and Ava climbed off him, reaching for her discarded dress on the floor. The air felt cooler now, the spell of their intimacy fading as reality crept back in.
She slipped the dress on, smoothing it over her curves, and glanced at him as he buttoned his pants. "Same time next week?" she asked, keeping her tone light, casual, like this was just another Tuesday night.
Julian ran a hand through his hair, watching her with an intensity that made her skin prickle. "If you're not bored of me yet."
Ava smirked, grabbing her purse from the counter. "You're not *that* boring." She paused at the door, looking back at him, all lean muscle and quiet confidence. "No strings, Julian."
"No strings," he echoed, but as she stepped into the elevator, the doors sliding shut, Ava couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted tonight something neither of them was ready to admit.