Pairing: Julian Sark x Rachel Gibson
Theme: 4 - Orgasm
Length: 545 words ^^;;
It was the smile that did it. Slow and knowing – and unexpected that way – it sent a shiver down Sark’s spine a bare moment before he rose to his feet in a single fast movement, like a coiled spring finally released.
Rachel gasped as he pushed her against the mattress, the silver laptop skidding to the edge of the mattress until she caught it with one hand. “Jesus, Sark,” she managed before slipping the computer carefully to the floor. Her eyes shut and her neck arched back against the pleasure that was already starting to thrum through her.
“You called me by my first name before,” Sark purred, his usual clear, crisp tones slurred with desire, and Rachel’s ice blue eyes slitted open, one eyebrow lifting.
“I called you Bob before,” she said as Sark’s mouth slipped down her throat, teeth and lips tracing the lacy edge of her camisole. “Bob’s not your name.”
“Lydia wasn’t yours either,” Sark murmured. One hand slipped up the hem of her top, trailing slowly up her stomach. “Call me Julian. I’ll call you Rachel.” His hand curved around one breast, his thumb rasping against her nipple. He grinned when she drew in a sharp breath, and he bent his head, brushing his lips against hers. “Call me Julian, Rachel.”
“Julian,” Rachel sighed. She arched up into his touch, parting her lips to deepen their kiss. After a moment, she leaned back, her eyes blinking open. “You like to take things slowly, don’t you, Julian.”
It was his turn to lift an eyebrow. “Yes,” he said.
“That’s funny,” she said, pushing him away from her, sitting up. “Bob didn’t. Bob made me feel like I was going to burn up, and he made me want to.” She sidled out from under him, reaching up to pull her hair down from her high ponytail, letting it fall around her shoulders in sleek waves before unhooking her charcoal gray pants and pushing them to the floor.
Sark’s eyes sharpened as he took note of the fact that Rachel’s underwear exactly matched her camisole. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” he said. “I can make you burn up again.”
Rachel grinned, and the mattress sunk under her weight. She leaned over him. “That’s good to know, Julian,” she purred. “But I’m going to make you burn first.”
Sark groaned as slim hands moved over him, unfastening clothes, pulling it away from his skin. Her short nails scratched down his chest as she leaned forward, lips burning against his neck as she straddled his hips, silk rubbing smoothly against his unfastened pants.
She was wild, he thought; he didn’t know why he hadn’t realized it before.
He gasped as her hand slid between them, slipping inside his pants and curling around his cock. Her thumb brushed against he head, and she grinned as he jerked forward.
“I don’t think we’re going to go slowly this time, Julian,” she murmured as she began to move her hand along him, her smile widening as he moved against her hand.
It didn’t really take long for him to shudder and come against her hand, and she was laughing as she bent and kissed him deep and hard.
“It’s your turn,” she murmured. “Make me burn.”