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Amanda sat in the back of the Uber, thinking about not going home.

Instead, she kept glancing down at her phone, watching the map track her progress. She’d texted Rohan while she was waiting for her flight to board. She asked him if, hypothetically, she was going to redirect her ride home, what address she should give the driver. And that’s the address she was heading to now.

It had been a long week away. These sudden business trips were always productive but draining. Amanda liked her job and enjoyed the respect she got from the managers she supported. Well, she thought, most of them. Some of them still weren’t sure if she was there to be eye candy or their mother.

She thought about how these trips used to be, coming back into the unpredictability of life with her ex. She never knew what she was coming home to face. He was emotional, and at first, she’d mistaken his overblown reactions for passion, for a sign of his investment in her. It hadn’t taken her long to find out that he was out of control, with all the maturity and emotional intelligence of a thrashing toddler in the chocolate aisle.

It had taken his undeniable betrayal to open her eyes. He couldn’t lie or bully or gaslight his way out of being caught red-handed. And his rage, his fury at her unwillingness to accept his reality over the proof of her own eyes, made her see just how fragile he was. She’d packed that night.

It had taken months to get past that gut-wrenching realisation. Amanda was proud of having survived it – the crying storms, unexpected flashbacks, the hindsight realisations of how many times he’d screwed her over and lied to her. She knew she couldn’t go back to who she’d been. And she liked who she was becoming now. She still found herself caught up in the grieving for that girl, the girl she’d been who had been trusting, who had genuinely thought the best of people. She missed her optimism, her faith in people not being inherently shit.

As the cab pulled up, she looked up from her phone and through the car window. She smiled to see him standing at the big central door to his apartment building, waiting for her. He still wore his work clothes, what she thought of as ‘tech-firm casual’ – tee-shirt, hoodie and jeans.

The driver came around to open her door, smiling as she stepped out, and then retrieved her suitcase from the trunk. She took the handle and wheeled it over to where Rohan was waiting for her.

He smiled. “I thought you’d be coming in an armoured car.”

She stopped, maybe too tired to get the joke. “What? Why?”

He grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Isn’t that usually how something that looks like a million bucks is delivered?”

She chuckled. “That was terrible! But I’ll take the sentiment all the same”

He took the handle of the case from her, wheeling it with her down the hall to the lift. “How was the trip?”

“Not terrible. Mostly the same talking in circles they always do. I struggled a bit, to be honest.”

The lift came, and he waited so she could get in first. “Did something go wrong?”

She sighed, not wanting to relive it. But she did want to talk to Rohan about it all. She liked his mind, his way of pulling things apart that she couldn’t see.

“Today was the worst of it. The partners want us to be seen as a good place to work. They’d like for us to have a sterling reputation. But they don’t want to do the work to be a good company. So much bias, so much talk about perks and benefits instead of talking about what people need.”

He nodded. He’d been in these meetings too.

She continued as the lift stopped, and they walked to his door.

“Can we have better parental leave? No. But we can fund new pool tables with neon under the rails, so they’re on-brand. Can we implement policies that support our people? Nope – but we can get a new set of hoodies designed and made, so people feel ‘loved’. Poor Alex – he was going mad.”

Rohan smiled. He knew Alex, the marketing department manager, pretty well. Alex was famously outspoken, a big-chested guy with a kids’ soccer coach’s easygoing demeanour and the cutting wit of a stand-up comic. He’d been one of Rohan’s closest allies in the battle to improve the company culture – a living case study that you didn’t have to be a massive jerk to be effective. As work friends go, he was a good one to have.

“Did Alex go nuclear?” asked Rohan, opening the door.

“No, he was pretty restrained. I think he knows how to handle them now. He was on the flight back – said he’d call you tomorrow.”

Rohan pulled the suitcase in and closed the door.

“Hi,” he said, smiling, and kissed her. She kissed back, breaking it off before it got too heated.

She looked at him, enjoying back in this closeness with him. “Hi, stranger. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He leaned in to kiss her again, but she pulled away.

“Before we get too carried away, I need to decompress. So how about you pour me a glass of wine, and I’ll have bahçeşehir escort a shower, and we can start our Friday night the right way. Sound good?”

He pointed to a door. “The shower’s through there. If you need something clean to put on, grab something from my room. Are you hungry? I wasn’t sure if you’d eat on the plane.”

“No, I’m not hungry,” she smiled, “just ready to put the week behind me. Get me a glass of wine, and we’ll be fine. See you soon.”

She wheeled her suitcase into his room, letting it fall to the floor and closing the door behind her.

She undressed, discarding her grimy work clothes with a disdainful kick. After a week of rushed hotel showers between day-long meetings and ‘team-building’ dinners with creepy managers, this felt like a luxury. She stepped under the steaming spray, feeling it coat her skin. The hot water washed away both the scungy feeling on her skin and the weariness of the last week. She looked around, finding the shower caddy full of his cleaning products, and grabbed the body wash.

As she opened it to pour on her hands, the memory of their first time together slammed into her memory. Maybe it was the body wash, part of his scent. Perhaps it was the feel of the shower on her, the memory of skin and steam. Whatever the cause, the thought instantly aroused her. The memory of his hands and his mouth, his power inside her, ran like a shock through her memory. As she soaped her body, washing away the week, she began to tingle with anticipation. Her hands became guides to memory, every brush of a palm or fingertip on her skin, bringing up another moment of their tryst.

She began to focus on the feeling more. She wanted to masturbate, as she so often did at home in the shower. And she knew she had the time if she wanted. Her mind, however, was already planning what she would make happen when she got out of the shower. He was right outside, waiting for her. If the last week had been as torturous for him as it had been for her, he’d be hungry for her too.

She turned the water off, stepping out and grabbing the towel on the rail. She ran the white, fluffy towel over herself, glancing through the door at Rohan’s room. On the bed, she could see that he’d put one of his t-shirts for her to wear above her now-open case. She slipped on some underwear and then pulled the comically oversized t-shirt over her head. His scent was all over it, and it felt oddly like a hug.

When she opened the door to the lounge room, the first thing she noticed was that it was dimmer, darker. There was soft music playing, and for some reason, Rohan had moved the coffee table off to one side. Where it had been, he’d laid down a thick blanket with a fluffy white towel over it. Her glass of wine waited on the now-moved table off to the side.

She looked at him with a question in her eyes.

“Lie down,” he said. “You’ve had a shit day and a shit week. And what better way to get past a shit week than with a shower, a glass of wine and a massage.”

She laughed in surprise. “Well, I can think of other ways, but sure, let’s start here.”

Amanda picked up the glass of wine, taking a swallow as she walked over to him. He was watching her closely, drinking in her figure and her presence. Even draped in his tee-shirt (baggy on her frame), Rohan could see the smooth, lean curves of her. He liked her vitality, the contained energy of her spirit, and the way it showed through her movement, her smile. He’d missed her, wanted her back here, wanted to see what this was going to be.

He said slowly, “I thought about you a lot. Just in case that didn’t come through in the text messages.”

She lay down, putting her glass on the table as she stretched her long legs out behind her. Rohan could see the edges of her underwear hugging her buttocks beneath the hem of the tee-shirt. Her face pressed against the fluffy towel, looking sideways and back at him.

“I missed you too. Knowing you were here when I got home made it a bit more bearable. Now, get to work, Mister Masseur.”

He grinned, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek. “Yes, ma’am.”

She closed her eyes at the first touch of his fingers on her neck. He curled his fingers over the tops of her shoulders, one hand on either side of her neck. He squeezed gently, a somehow patient but insistent pressure against her skin, compressing her aching muscles. After the warmth of the shower, his touch liquefied her. She growled, a small contented sound in her throat, and felt herself settle into the towel a little more.

She had been feeling small, fragile, and a bit squashed by the conflicts of the week with angry managers. It was nice to have quiet, no voices and no arguing. Not silence, of course – over the soft music, she could hear his steady breathing, the muted sounds of outside, the occasional sound of his body moving. She felt him settle softly on her back, holding himself up with his legs, anchoring himself so bakırköy escort he could reach all of her.

His hands roamed out to hers, taking her palm in his fingers and kneading the stress from her joints. Methodically, he squeezed and stroked, teasing the tension out of her hands, arms, and shoulders. When his hands touched something sensitive or sore, he felt her arch her back under him. The light would wash differently on her shoulders and back, and she’d settle under him again. Every time she moved, every little gasp she made at his touch, drove him to think of her under his hands in the shower that first time.

Amanda felt his weight shift slightly and then flinched at the press of his lips on her neck. His weight on his arms, he began kissing a trail down her back, holding himself above her as he moved. She felt his lower body moving down her legs and only then noticed the feeling of hardness pressed against her skin. She suppressed a giggle, enjoying the kissing as it trailed down to just above her waist.

He rested his face there for a second, pressing his cheek into the small of her back. She could feel his breath, the steady tide of his exhales, the slight roughness of his face against her. Amanda lay still, pleasantly weightless and yet weighed down by his embrace, breathing, waiting.

Rohan rolled to one side, reaching up with one hand as his weight settled next to her. He slid a hand inside her underwear, gently stroking her cheek with his fingertips. He felt her hips rise just a little and moved his hand across, his fingers straddling her bottom. He brushed his hand down, fingertips pressing against her skin, trailing off her just before the curve of her buttocks. He slipped his hand out again and asked softly, ‘Do you need these anymore?’

Her only answer was to raise her hips, inviting him to slide the underwear down and away from her. He did, slipping it over her feet as she settled her now-naked hips back into the towel. The soft light sculpted the rise and fall of her body, painting shadows in the hollows and accenting the curves. He reached up between her slightly-spread legs, stroking her inner thigh with a finger, and then the roughness of his palm as well.

Her hips bucked again, and in the soft light, he could make out the valley of her sex. He leaned forward, planting a single kiss on her lips, and before she could push back into him, he placed his finger against her. The edge of his finger entered her, and her next convulsion drew him in. She gasped to feel him, her mind thinking about the echoes of having some part of him inside. His slowly pulsing fingertip, pressed against the inner wall of her sex, began slow circles and a carelessly eager, almost whimsical pattern of pressure. The urge to giggle was washed away with a sudden smooth flood of sensation. Each press of his finger added a little more to the tension already inside her, slowly coaxing her to a matching rhythm.

She looked back at him, her face pressed against the towel.

“When we were in the showers at work, you did something to me that I can’t stop thinking about.”

He smiled, twitching a finger inside her. “I did a lot of things. I hope they’re equally memorable.”

She smiled. “You did. And they were. But one of them was new. And I want you to do it again. Do you know which thing I mean?”

He stopped moving his hands, looking her in the eye. “You told me we had to ask for the things we wanted. No games, no shame, remember?”

She laughed, then met his gaze squarely. She felt more exposed than ever, lying naked before him and being reminded that she had to ask for what she wanted. But she set the rules, so she had to meet him halfway.

She swallowed, steeling herself for his reaction.

“I want your tongue inside me. Everywhere it can go. Is that clear enough?”

She blushed, closing her eyes, waiting for his scornful response.

Instead, he leaned forward, his face disappearing behind the curve of her hip so she could no longer see him. Then she felt the tip of his tongue pressing against her mound. He traced a straight line, running along her lips, his face moving upward, tasting her. She clenched internally, involuntarily, as the warmth of his breath and mouth washed over her sex. His tongue continued up, moving past her sex, up to ber bottom. She felt him push it against her, the sensation of it still a new thing, a delicious thing.

“I’m going to guess you meant this,” he said.

Without waiting for an answer, he pushed his tongue back against her bottom. His hands framed his face, pulling her buttocks apart slightly, giving him better access to her. His chin rested against her sex, a faint, bristled pressure she could feel as his mouth moved. His tongue pulsed, tasting the shower-clean skin, feeling her writhe and shift with the news sensations as he explored her.

She gasped, arching her back and pushing her body into his face. The tip of his tongue pushed başakşehir escort inside her, and she groaned, panting at the sudden wave of the new feeling. She felt his hands, still holding her open for his mouth, shift positions so that his thumbs lay along her lips, squeezing them together. His mouth continued to work, tongue thrusting into her gently but insistently.

He moved down again, pushing his tongue between her lips, tasting the incredible wetness he found there. She moaned, her breathing fast and shallow, feeling every stroke of his tongue as he tasted her. She felt his hands release their grip, his finger replacing his tongue inside her, pushing against the front wall of her sex. His mouth moved back up to her bottom, and he began to move his fingers and tongue in rhythm. Each stroke washed her in sensation, driving her wild.

She felt his wet finger move up to her bottom and pushed up on her hands, squaring her shoulders and looking back at him. “That’s an idea for another day. Right now, I want you in me.”

He lifted his face, raising his weight on his hands and moving up her body to cover her. ‘That I can do. For now.’

Rohan climbed off her, standing above her naked body while he undressed. She rolled over to look up at him, watching his eyes take her body in even as she watched his slow disrobing. The reveal of his tight stomach, the sturdy legs beneath the trousers, and the almost comical springing-up of his erection as the last layer fell. She couldn’t help but run a finger down between her lips, holding his gaze as he watched her.

“Here, please. Put it here.”

Rohan watched as she used her fingers to open her sex, stroking the length of herself with the tip of her middle finger before gently slipping it inside. His breath caught – he loved watching this. Her legs opened a little more, and her hand moved away from her body, reaching up to him.

“Now, please. Don’t make me ask again.”

The little note of iron in her voice, that take-no-prisoners command, made him twitch a little. He wanted to make her beg him or command him. Right now, however, he wanted her pinned beneath him, taking him inside. He knelt between her now-spread legs, and with one hand, guided himself toward her until they were just touching.

He leant forward, taking his weight with one hand, and pushed with his hips. Slowly, agonisingly slowly, Amanda felt him open her. Each renewed sensation was a pulse from her groin to her spine, a swirling orange feeling that got brighter as she took more of him inside.

He let go with his hand, comfortably in place within her, rocking slowly back and forth to match the reflexive rhythm she was creating. He held his bodyweight off her, just enough that each full thrust brought his chest against hers. He kissed her, trying to maintain control as they got used to each other again.

Amanda writhed beneath the avalanche of his movement. She wanted to reach down between them, to hasten the orgasm she felt building but didn’t want to let go of his shoulders. She tasted his tongue with each kiss, reliving the sensation of him licking her as she tasted herself. She clenched her fingers, catching his eye between kisses and gasping as his thrusts took on more force, more recklessness.

Rohan began to moan as the feeling of her body spurred him onward. He knew how he wanted this to end, so he began to slow down his thrusts to bring her back from the edge. Her eyes opened, finding his gaze, questioning as he shifted to a slower, deeper rhythm. He reared up, kneeling between her legs, still in her and moving gently.

“I can’t decide which of these I want more. So instead of asking for the thing I want, I’m going to suggest two things. And you get to choose.”

She nodded, solemn and attentive despite the twitching feeling in her sex as he continued to fuck her.

“We can keep doing this, in which case I’m going to come soon because you’re driving me crazy. Or we can try an idea I’ve had and maybe do this again later.”

Amanda didn’t want to lose what she’d built up, but she was intrigued.

“Whatever your other idea is, let’s do it. Where do you want me?”

He rolled off her, onto the floor, to lie on his back. “I want you kneeling over my face,” he said, “and I don’t care which way you’re facing.”

She sat forward, getting up on her knees and giving his erection a passing kiss. She crawled backward, pushing her sex into his face as she settled, and took his hardness in her mouth.

Immediately she felt his tongue invade her, and the gasp she let loose around him was followed by a moan as he began licking in earnest. She sank her mouth onto him, tasting herself on him, wanting more and more. As he devoured her, she felt herself wanting to win, to force him to orgasm first. She wanted the explosion in her mouth, the satisfaction of feeling him lose control because of her. She began to move faster, trying to push him to climax.

Suddenly she felt him move his face away from her, and the heat of his breath washed her buttocks. Amanda took all of him that she could, stretching her jaw to try and sink to the base of him. Then with a shock, she felt his arms wrap around her thighs, pinning her to his face as his tongue pushed against and then inside her bottom once more.

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