She showed up at his hotel room door one morning. What was he to do? He had spent the night before on a red eye flight from San Francisco to New York City, and wasted the better part of the morning arguing with the concierge about the suite he had that looked more like the size of horse stall.

She was just a breath of fresh air, and he couldn’t help but grin as she shoved a pile of papers at his chest.

There was just something about her. The way she had her dark blonde hair swept up on top of her head. Or the tiny white t-shirt she wore stretched over her full chest. As he lowered his stare down, he thought that quite possibly it was the gray running pants she wore because they showed off her curve of her hips in a way that made him yearn to touch the soft, warm spot in between. After all, he was just a man, and it had been one hell of a night.

“You’re Clate Russell, aren’t you?” she asked, thrusting the papers toward him again. “My husband was running late this morning and asked me to give these to you. Would you take them?”

Her brown eyes widened with frustration. She pushed the papers at him again.

Clate licked his lips, then quickly combed his fingers through his hair.

“God. Yes. I’m Clate. Your husband?”

“No,” she said. “You’re not my husband. My husband wanted me to give these papers to you.”

If she rolled her eyes at him, he’d kiss her. He promised himself that.

“I… I knew what you meant. I’m sorry, it’s been a long night. The flight was hell, then the hotel…I could go on and on.”

“Please don’t. I really need to get going. Just so you have the papers.”

She kept looking at him like he was a French fried idiot, not that he blamed her. He couldn’t quit staring, and he couldn’t quit grinning. The reason for either of those things wasn’t clear to him. The woman was cute, but she wasn’t a beauty queen. She had a body, but plenty of women did. And he wasn’t necessarily sex starved or overly horny. It had been a week since he’d been with a woman and… oh… about an hour since he jacked off in the shower.

But this woman was frustrated, ready to bite someone’s head off then chew it up with a smile on her face, and it turned him on. Her flushed cheeks and wild stare that darted from him to the hallway and back again revealed a passion for something… a need for something. Even if it was a fight with whoever had her in such a tizzy. Damn, he loved hot headed women. They were always such a fun time.

He looked down at the papers in his hand and walked back into his room.

“Well, it looks like you’re going to be sticking around for at least a half hour,” he called over his shoulder at her. “I need to review these quickly then have you take them back to the office for me. And it has to be done or we’re going to lose the Barnum account.”

She let out a big puff of air. He tried not to crack a smile.

“Yeah, well, I don’t give a damn about the Barnum account.”

He looked at her and nodded his head.

“That’s fine. Just tell your husband, whoever he is, to send a messenger after these.”

Her arms were crossed over her chest.

“Are the papers that important?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t be in town if they weren’t.”

He sat the papers down inside his briefcase and grabbed the hotel room key off the desk.

“I’m going to go down to the restaurant for breakfast. If you stick around and save me the hassle of waiting for a messenger, I’ll buy yours too. But I really need to get these papers back as soon as I’m done looking over them.”

She shook her head.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to buy me breakfast. I’ll stick around. But can you just go over them here? It’ll save us five minutes of going down to the restaurant.”

His eyes wandered over to his half made bed, to his old boxers still laying on the floor. And he looked at her again. She was a married woman and willing to come into a strange man’s hotel room. He didn’t stand a chance.

“Sure, come on in,” he said.

She sat down on the edge of his bed as he sat down at the desk with his back to her. The woman was ready to blow her fuse, and he could feel it. The tension in her body pushed up against his back and made the tiny room feel even smaller.

“This isn’t my fault. I hope you know that,” he said to her as his eyes rushed over the first page. “I’m not holding you up on purpose.”

“I know,” she breathed. “It’s Alexander. He was going to be here an hour ago to go over this with you, but the alarm didn’t go off. So he insisted that I run down here and make sure that you signed off on everything before his meeting after lunch.”

“Alexander?”

He raised his head from the papers and stared at the white wall in front of him. She couldn’t be. No. He couldn’t be eyeing Alexander’s wife. It had to be a different Alexander.

“Not Alexander Cross?” he asked.

It was a huge company. There had to be a dozen Alexander's floating around.

“Yes, Alexander Cross,” she replied as if his question was the dumbest thing she’d ever heard.

Alexander Cross was the owner of the company. The founder. Although Clate only met the man a few times, he remembered the stern, no nonsense, no fun pall he cast over any meeting he attended. The man had no sense of humor and enforced his bland personality on everyone who worked for him. It was nose to the grind and don’t look up until you’ve done everything… twice. Then clean the floor with your tongue if you’re bored. To put it mildly, the guy was a hard ass and seemed like a real douche.

“I’m Abby Cross,” she offered. “His wife. I can’t believe you didn’t know who I was when I said my husband sent me.”

“I figured your husband was one of your actual husband’s clerks or something. How was I to know?”

He kept staring at the wall, listening to her voice behind him and the tinge of laughter in it as she spoke.

“That explains why you ogled me like that. For a minute there, I thought you lost your mind, eyeing up Alexander’s wife like that. He had men’s head on platters for a lot less than scoping out his wife’s body.”

This time, Clate had to chuckle. She had a point. Cross’ company was his property, his pride and joy, and he didn’t let anyone do anything to mess with it. He was in total control. There was no reason to believe he was any other way with his wife – especially with how sweet she was to look at.

“Well, I apologize for that,” he said. “But like I said, it was a horrible flight in and this room…” he waved his hands around. “I think it may be smaller than a prison cell.”

“Alex is tight with his money, but if you want I can ask him to get you a bigger room. It is kind of small.”

Clate smiled to himself and lowered his eyes back to the report. “

Nah, actually this wasn’t your husband’s doing. I reserved a suite and the hotel lost my reservation.”

“A suite?” she asked incredously. “Charged to the company? Just for you for a few nights? Wow!” She let out a long “shooo! You want to get fired, don’t you?”

“He can’t fire me, Abby. I’m only a consultant. And if he tried to get rid of me, he’d owe me more money than he’d want to pay for breaking contract.”

“So you’re just here for the Barnum account?” She asked.

“I’ve been working with your husband and his San Francisco office for six months now. That’s where I’m from. If your husband lands this project, our work together will be done.”

“And if he doesn’t, he’ll make sure you never work again,” she finished for him. “He can be such an asshole.”

He flipped over a page of the report. So that’s what had her so mad. Alexander Cross himself.

“His company is just important to him. I can’t say I’d be any different.”

She stood up and walked over to the desk and stood beside him. He could feel her eyes looking at him, then down at the report.

“Are you married, Mr. Russell?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“Call me Clate, okay? And no, I’m not married. Never been.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty four,” he replied, looking up at her and catching her big chocolate brown eyes in his for a second before she looked away.

“You're only a few years younger than me. Why haven’t you ever gotten married? Haven’t found the right one yet?”

She was looking at him again, those beautiful eyes digging into him for an answer. He wasn’t sure what she wanted to hear.

“I found the right one a few times,” he said honestly. “But I think the right one deserves more than a man who works ninety hours a week.”

Abby nodded her head, resting her eyes on his face and finally dropping her arms from over her chest. He dropped his attention back down to the paperwork or he’d stare again at those perfectly round, pillowy breasts straining against the fabric of that damn shirt.

“I wish Alexander felt the same way,” she sighed.

“How long have you two been married?”

Page three of the report was as blank to his eyes as the other two pages. His eyes could only hear every sound she made.

“A year. And in that year I’ve realized I cannot compete with his work. This company is his first love. "That’s not very long,” Clate replied.

“We’ve had one quick dinner in the past three months before he fell asleep, and we haven’t had breakfast together in five.” She let out another sigh and walked to the window. “But why am I telling you the problems with my love life?” She paused. “You’re a stranger.”

And here he thought they were talking about food, not sex. His groin twitched. He shifted in his seat to get comfortable.

“Sometimes it’s easier to vent to a stranger.”

“Yeah.” She walked back over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “The office is only ten minutes away. I’ll send a messenger over as soon as I leave so you won’t be held up anymore on my account. I’m keeping you from your work.”

The heat from her palm seared into his skin and solidified the problem inside his trousers. There was just something about her. Maybe it was the frustration he could feel trapped in her body. Or maybe it was the fact that he looked at her like he did and she didn’t run. She made it clear she wasn’t happy with Cross. And she also made it clear she felt comfortable with him. Enough to touch him anyway.

He reached back and put his hand on hers.

“You don’t have to go anywhere. I’ll be done in five minutes.” Clate leaned his head back to look up into her eyes and smiled. “I’m enjoying your company, especially after the night I had.”

She returned his smile and left her hand planted under his. “Me too.”

He searched her face and explored her eyes. The report was waiting for him, and he knew he should get it done so she could get it to Cross. But he couldn’t. There was just something about her that told him she wanted him too. He had her hand. He had her gaze. And her cheeks flushed a sexy shade of pink as he winked up at her. Dammit, she was a married woman. That was against the few rules he had. He patted her hand and moved it off his shoulder.

“So you said you haven’t had breakfast yet this morning?” he asked, going back to the report.

“No.”

Her voice was as soft as a feather floating across the air.

“I wanted to this morning, but Alex pushed this report at me instead. It’s work, and you know how important that is. But I am hungry. Starving, in fact.”

Clate nodded his head.

“For Alex, right? I mean, you want to have breakfast with Alex.”

She let out a deep breath through her pursed lips.

“Actually, no.” She inhaled and exhaled again. “We could have breakfast if you still want to. I guess we could. It wouldn't hurt anything, right? As long as it doesn't take too long. Who knows. We might enjoy ourselves."

Clate looked up at her. He pushed his chair back from the desk and stood up to face her. His hands wanted to go to her hips, to pull her to him, but he didn't dare. Instead, his eyes burrowed deep into hers for the real meaning of what she meant, searching for the answer to if she meant what he thought she did.

She was Cross’ wife, for the love of Pete. There was something about her, though, and the way she was looking at him.

She licked her bottom lip. Her dark eyes were flecked with light and the light danced in circles, daring him, captivating him, making his cock so hard it was starting to hurt.

"So do you want to?" she asked.

The impatience was still weighing on her voice, but it was sort of smoky now too. Clate took a deep breath and held her words in his lungs.

Second hand smoke is bad for you, boy, he told himself.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered, hoping his outer composure wasn't crumbling as badly as he was on the inside. "What would you want to eat? I really need to look over these papers."

She tossed her head back and laughed, a single sultry laugh that made him swallow hard to avoid a groan.

"God, you men," she said, looking at him again. "Talk about breakfast, and you think we mean food. Talk about work, and you get an erection, then run out the door. You shouldn't look at a woman like you do me or stand there with a knot inside your pants if you want to get to work so bad."

Her face flushed and her eyes darkened to the color of fury as she glared at him. "As I said, I'll send a messenger by."

Without thinking, he grabbed her arm.

"You're a married woman," he said as calmly as he could.

The muscles in his arms twitched. He wanted to jerk her body to his, but he didn't dare. She was married, he reminded himself again. And if he did that, all his control would be lost until his cock went soft. Inside her.

"Yeah, I am," she replied.

He was shocked she didn't try to pull away from him, but her eyes were still on the door.

"To a man who I woke up naked beside. To a man who got hard the instant I touched him this morning. And to a man who swung his legs out of bed and told me he didn't have time for things like 'that' instead of touching me. His wife. That's my marriage, Mr. Russell. If you can call it that."

He let go of her arm and let out a deep breath.

"You're still his wife. It's not that I don't want to. I hope you know that."

She turned to him, her eyes summing him up as she sighed.

"Yeah, I do. That's still pretty obvious."

Her hand pressed against his crotch for a second, and her fingers managed to squeeze his hard shaft inside his pants.

Clate's breath hitched in his throat. He looked at her and hoped she saw his resolve fade away. He hoped she saw his resistance escape his mind and body as his mouth fell open and a guttural sound vibrated in his throat.

She looked into his eyes and chewed on her bottom lip again. Her hand fell away.

“Abby,” he said softly.

He pulled her body against his and cupped the back of her neck with his hand. Her skin was so soft, her lips parted like a sweet strawberry cracked from all the juice inside. “God damn, Abby.”

He looked at her face one last time, searched her deep gaze for some trace of no as he lowered his lips on hers. She fed her slender warm tongue to him, one inch at a time, sliding it against his until his mouth was hers and he could taste the cinnamon on her breath.

She pushed and pulled on their kiss, sucking his tongue deep into her mouth and moaning softly as she wrapped her lips around it and guided it back out. Clate slid his hand down her hips and nudged her leg. Her breath caught in her throat as she hooked it around his waist and the bulge in his pants pressed against her crotch.

“Clate,” she mouthed against his lips.

He groaned and backed her toward the bed. She lowered her pants for him, and he took a step back and watched as she exposed her hips, her long slender legs, and then her pink toenails as she stepped out of her panties. Abby stood up straight. His cock twitched hard as he stared at her smoothly shaven snatch.

"God," he moaned.

"We really don't have much time," she whispered.

Clate watched as she sat down on the edge of the bed and laid back, pulling her legs up and placing her feet flat on the edge of the mattress. Her hands cupped her breasts and she kneaded them through the t-shirt.

"Oh God," he whispered.

Clate dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed. He leaned his head in and saw the droplets of arousal coating her pussy lips. He touched his finger to them and Abby reacted, a small "mmmm" floating into the room as she pumped her hips slowly.

He stared at her sex for a minute, content to touch her soft, full lips with his finger, then to press his finger inside and bury it in the wetness. When he brushed against her clit, she gasped. If he rubbed the sides of her clit, she'd moan, her moan coming out as short puffs of air. From between her legs, he looked up at her.

Her chest heaving beneath her hands, the sight of her tongue darting out of her mouth as his touches grew from teases to steady caresses. He wanted to bury his face against her and devour her all at once, but she was already so sensitive, so ready.

"Damn," he groaned, parting her lips with his fingers and kissing her clit.

How did a man neglect a beautiful woman like this for so long?

His cell phone started to ring as he buried his tongue into her depths. She was so wet, she dripped off his lips and onto his chin as he tongue fucked her softly. Her hips writhed on the bed. She put her fingers in his hair and guided his attention back to her clit.

Clate obliged her. He'd wanted her clit all along. He wanted to make her cum so badly. But he also liked her hunger, and he liked the way the sweet taste of her had made his cock soak his boxers with puddles of pre-cum.

Abby's phone started to ring as soon as his stopped. They didn't have much time. She was right about that. He latched his lips around her clit and sucked her into his mouth as deep as she would go. Abby cried out. She pushed on his head and mashed his face into her. Clate inhaled deeply, the scent of her pushing him close to his own orgasm as she started to cum for him.

He groaned, his voice vibrating against her. His tongue flicked her clit side to side until she was so swollen, he knew it must hurt. Then he sucked her again, pressing his lips tight against her, trying to flatten her clit in his mouth just to taste her sweet juices.

Abby pulled at his hair, then pushed his head closer to her.

"Oh...oh...

god," she panted.

He looked up and watched her breasts heave. Up. Down. His hands reached up to push hers away and squeezed the soft mounds. He bit down on her clit, then pressed it into her pelvic bone. His groans wrapped around her guttural cries as she spilled onto his tongue. Her legs fluttered softly before she clamped her thighs around his head. Clate sighed and sucked her in.

Her juices. Her scent. Her pleasure.

Their eyes met as he lifted his head a few minutes later. He wiped his face with the back of his palm and thought about shoving his cock inside her beautiful mouth. Her tongue darted out and moistened her lips. Her eyes were so soft, yet so dark, and they reached for him as they smiled at each other.

Clate stood up without taking his eyes off her face. He latched his fingers around the waistband of his pants and smiled as he got ready to tug them to the ground.

Abby sat up and reached over on the bed.

"Oh God," she said, her voice still wrapped in a hoarse fog. "Oh God," she said, louder this time as her eyes flew wide open. She looked up at Clate with her phone in her hand. "That was Alex."

He let go of his pants and reached for her phone.

"Put it down," he said softly. "It can wait."

The woman's husband was calling, and he had the nerve to tell her to wait until he fucked her. He didn't care. His balls were swollen and aching. His cock was drooling, just thinking about her.

"No, no, it can't," she said, holding the phone out of his reach. Her hand shook. "You don't understand. This is business. If we don't answer him, he'll come looking for us."

Clate stifled a frustrated groan and leaned back against the dresser behind him. He thought about jerking his drawers down, tempting her with this cock while she tried to talk her husband. He could put it to her lips, push her back on the bed and stick the head inside her cunt. She wanted him. That look in her eyes after she came... God, she wanted him to fuck her so badly.

But now she stood up and paced the room, still naked from the waist down.

"Yes, Alex, he's going over the papers right now," she said into the phone. "Yes, dear. I'll be leaving here in five minutes. He's almost finished reviewing the papers."

Her voice was normal again, so composed and void of any emotion that Clate cringed a little. His cock was still hard. That wasn't going to change without a good hand job or a cold shower, but he sat down at the desk and got busy anyway.

"Okay, sweetheart," she said. "See you soon."

He stared at the papers as the room went silent for a second. He heard her start to move around. The rustling around told him she was getting dressed. It was probably for the best anyway. He started the read the text and look for errors.

God, he was still so turned on, but sticking it to Alexander Cross' wife wasn't the best idea he'd ever had. At least like this, he'd only given her a little relaxation. She'd be sweeter to Alex and less needy. Maybe they'd get along today because she wasn't frustrated anymore. But if he had fucked her like he wanted... God! He ran his fingers through his hair. That could be his undoing.

"Clate," she said. Her voice was small behind him.

He ignored her and kept scanning the documents. He was moving fast now. She had to get out of his room.

"Clate," she said again.

This time her voice was soft, tingly. At least to him.

He looked up at the wall in front of him.

"Yes?"

She let out a sigh. "Maybe you like fruit for breakfast, Mr. Russell. But I like meat. Think you could help me out?"

"Fuck," he groaned.

His cock squirted into his britches, and his mind was already fucking her before he could tell it no. He pushed back from the desk and stood up. She was splayed out naked on his bed, her legs spread, and his eyes fell on her long slender fingers slowly rubbing up and down between her legs.

"Well?" she asked, putting her free hand on her bare, round breast and twisting a hard nipple.

He walked to the bed and stretched out on top of her. It was too damn late to stop now. God. He pushed her hand away from her chest and leaned over to suck her dark pink nipple into his mouth. His cock lurched in his pants as she groaned.

Her fingers tangled in his hair. Her legs wrapped around him so tight, he pushed harder against her to try to get inside. Fuck, he wanted inside. Damn pants. He scraped his teeth against her nipple and listened to her gasp for air. He did it again and, as her back arched off the bed, he arched his hips off her and grabbed her pussy in his hand.

Between her nether lips was spun silk, hot, feminine wetness that coated his fingers as he slid them inside. He bit down on her nipple and shoved inside her as deep as he could go. She writhed beneath him and muttered something he couldn’t understand as he licked around her nipple and moved his attention to her clit.

He wanted to make her cum. Again. He wanted to feel that sweetness pouring from her body. Her legs twitched and her body shook as he drew creamy circles on her swollen bud, and as he looked up at her, she let out a soft yelp as a rush of liquid filled the palm of his hand.

“Oh gawd, Abby,” he groaned, pressing his mouth to hers and cramming his tongue as deep as it could go.

They bumped knuckles as they struggled to lower his pants, their tongues tied together as their desire throbbed between them and their breaths turned into growling moans. He rose off her as she inched his pants off his hips. He held his hard cock in his hands, rubbing the precum down over the shaft as she watched.

Abby pulled him down on top of her, wrapping her legs around his lower back until his cock slipped between her full lips. Her mouth pressed to his for a minute. Her tongue swept across his teeth as her hips bucked against his.

“Fuck me,” she growled in his ear, sucking his lobe into her mouth and letting out a moan filled gasp as he pulled back and drove his cock deep inside her.

“Abby. Fuck, Abby.”

He buried himself in her depths, feeling the narrow walls of her cunt squeezing his shaft in a slow, steady rhythm. The muscles in his back tensed and his ass cheeks puckered as her body sucked his dick.

She felt so damn hot and good. Forbidden fruit never felt this damn fucking good. He pulled out of her and rammed himself back in. Abby cried out beneath him and he gasped for a breath and held it in his lungs so he wouldn’t cum inside her too soon.

“Oh, baby,” he whispered, kissing below her ear and over to her neck. He pumped his cock in and out of her. “Fuck, I love your pussy.”

He buried himself inside again and moved his hips in small circles. She was so tight. So wet. Her walls were like a sponge wrapping tightly around him as he pulled out, then surrounding his shaft with hot cream as he forced his way back in.

She laid beneath him, her tits jiggling up and down, her lips parted, and the sweet sounds of moans and sighs vibrated in her throat. He fucked her cunt slowly and groaned as her eyes rolled back in her head. Her fingers gripped his arms.

“Faster,” she growled, offering her hips as he pulled back and rammed himself deep inside her orgasm.

He felt the cum swell in his balls as her pussy went mad around his cock, contracting, then letting go, and contracting again. She dug her nails into his back, pulling him deeper into her and fucking him as hard as she could with the weight of his body on top of her. Clate grabbed a lock of her hair. He pulled her head up off the pillow and bit into her neck. She cried out.

Up on his knees now, he fucked her as hard as he could. Harder, and harder. He listened to her gasp for air, heard his name buried in each breath she spoke. The sweat dripped down his face as he felt the painful twinge in his nuts. He shoved himself inside her once again and cupped her ass with his hands.

“Baby,” he muttered, pounding her pussy. “Fuck,” he cried out, arching up and tossing his head back.

The cum shot up through his shaft hard and fast, pushing out of him so hard that it made him wince. He lowered back down on top of her and filled her full, moving his cock up and down her cum covered walls as he kissed her lips over and over again.

“Abby,” he whispered. “God, Abby.”

He rolled off her and onto the mattress, pulling her on top of him. The truth was he could go again with her. His cock was still hard. Still throbbing. She was too damn hot for her own good. But they didn't have time.

"Oh yeah?" she asked, rubbing her pussy up and down his shaft. "You want it again? I'm impressed." Abby smiled as she spoke, her eyes sparkling down into his.

"See what you do to me?" Clate moved his hands to her sides and ran them up to her arms, then down to her hands. He laced his fingers with hers.

"I..." She lifted herself up and wriggled her hips until his cock poked at her opening again. "I like it," she breathed, tossing her head back as she filled herself with him again.

Clate smiled and groaned. He looked up at her, at the color rising on her cheeks again and the way her tongue darted across her lips as she started to ride him. Oh God. She felt so good. So warm. So wet. Like tiny little fingers running up and down his cock, squeezing him.

Her phone rang again, and he hoped she wouldn't answer it. She didn't. Instead, she leaned down and nipped on his bottom lip. She giggled as he nipped back at her. He kept nipping just to feel her cunt tighten around him as she laughed.

His phone rang as soon as hers stopped. There was no way he was going to stop her to answer. No way. He put his hands on her hips and tried to take over the rhythm. Faster. Their time was running out, and he wanted them both to cum again.

But his phone kept ringing.

Abby moaned and ground her hips in a circle on top of him.

"Baby," she whispered, looking down at him. "I think my husband's looking for us."

She stopped moving and leaned over again. Her warm breath tickled his ear. "I think you ought to tell my husband what you're doing to me."

Clate grasped her buttocks in his hand and moved her up and down on his shaft. "I don't think that's a good idea," he breathed.

She sat up straight again and smiled down at him. His phone was in her hand. It had stopped ringing. Thank God.

"Here," she said, pushing a few buttons before handing it to him. "Tell him we're almost done."

"Abby," he groaned, pushing himself up into her. He heard her breath hitch in her throat and considered flipping her over onto the mattress and fucking her with her feet pinned behind her head just to hear her cry out for him.

"It's ringing," she grinned, pushing the phone at him.

His cock was buried deep inside her cunt, yet his body tingled as his hand brushed against her. There was no way she called her husband. No way. Not while she was like this. With him. She wriggled her hips and giggled.

"You'd better talk to him before I moan and he hears," she whispered, running her palms up his chest.

Clate cleared his throat. There was no way she called Alexander. So he smiled at her and called her bluff.

"Hello?"

He didn't recognize his own voice. It sounded so deep, and so squeaky at the same time. He reached up and grabbed her tit and squeezed. She smiled at him again.

"Got those papers done yet? Is my wife still there? I can't reach her on her cell, and I need her back here to do something for me."

"Alexander!" Clate exclaimed as Abby rose up and slammed her cunt back down over his cock.

He felt his balls tighten and twitch. And his stomach too. He looked up at Abby who grinned at him like this was some cute game. Her hand reached back and cupped his nuts as she massaged his dick with her cunt.

"Well?" Alexander prompted. Impatience dominated his voice.

If he only knew...

Abby's hand moved back around and this time moved to her clit. She tossed her head back and rubbed herself as she started to ride his cock again. Oh God. Oh fucking God.

"Um, Abby's coming," he said, clearing his throat. "Right now."

He was amazed he managed to talk. Her cunt tightened like a vice around him. He heard a soft moan escape from her mouth and hurriedly moved his free hand to her throat, then to her lips as she sucked his fingers in. Oh geez, fucking God.

"Is she still there?" Alexander asked.

He wanted to tell the man to shut the hell up. He wanted to hang up on him and fuck the shit out of the guy's wife. His cock was harder than he remembered it ever being, and it hurt as her sweet pussy squeezed it from the shaft to the tip in a fast yet gentle rhythm.

"Yeah, yeah," he breathed, halfway holding his breath in an attempt not to cum.

"Well, tell her to come and hurry," the asshole demanded.

"Oh trust me, she will," Crate said between gritted teeth.

He hung up the phone without saying good bye. He had no choice. He couldn't remain under control any longer.

"You naughty little bitch," he breathed, grabbing her by the hips and flipping her over onto the bed.

"Me?" she laughed. "I think you got harder talking to my husband."

He smiled at her as he climbed between her legs and shoved his cock back inside her snatch.

"I could stay hard in an ice water bath as long as I'm inside you, I do believe." Clate grabbed her legs and forced them up until her knees were up by her ears. He pushed deeper inside her until the tip of his cock banged against her womb. "God, baby," he groaned, looking down at where they were joined.

Abby had a sweet, naughty grin on her face. She watched him fuck her. She watched him watch her pussy suck his cock in, and watched as he pulled it back out. At one point, she reached out and touched his face so gently that it made him shudder.

"You love your husband?" he asked, letting her legs go and stretching out on top of her. He liked the feeling of her soft legs against his as he moved himself up and down. Clate ran his fingers through her hair and watched the lust fill her eyes with flecks of color.

"Not right now," she replied, her voice steady and sure considering the situation. "Right now I love you."

Clate groaned as she squeezed him from the inside. He pushed deep inside her. Her nails dragged down his back as he pushed and pulled his cock in and out of her depths.

"Abby," he whispered. "Abby." His cum trickled from his cock as gently and softly as she had touched his face. He kissed her neck and scooped her into his arms. More cum seeped from his shaft.

"Clate," she whispered over and over, kissing him in between saying his name.

After, he looked down at her. He watched the pinkish-red hue of pleasure leave her face as he pulled his cock out of her cunt. It made him smile. It made him feel soft inside, and he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against her lips.

"Take a shower with me?" he whispered into her ear as he rolled onto the mattress beside her.

She started to nod, but her phone rang instead. It was Alexander, and Clate knew she had to answer it. He wouldn't expect her not to.

"You know I can't do that," she said with a firm tone that didn't seem to belong to the same Abby she'd been just a second before. "Hello?" She answered her phone as she climbed out of bed. "Yes, Alex," he listened to her say. "I know, Alex... Yes. I'm leaving right now... Yes, Alex. Okay."

Clate got up and slipped back into his pants. He returned to the desk. There wasn't any use staying in bed. She made that clear.

A few minutes after she hung up the phone, he turned around to look at her. She was completely dressed. He turned back to the desk and gathered the papers.

"Everything's fine. It's ready to go," he said, picking them up and handing them her way.

She looked down, then cast a glance at her watch. It was the first time he'd noticed she was wearing one.

"Great," she said, skimming the documents.

Abby looked up at him. She looked frazzled again. Tense. Where in the hell did his hot, sweet little lover go? She stuck out her hand and gave him a polite smile.

"It was nice meeting you, Mr. Russell. I doubt I'll see you before your flight leaves, so have a safe trip."

He took her hand and shook it softly.

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

Maybe he was stupid to expect a kiss good bye. Or even a thank you accompanied by a soft blush. He wanted a kiss.

"Perfect," she replied with a small smile before looking down at the papers. "Business is just business. That's all. Neither of us are in a position to make this anymore than it was."

"And what was it exactly?"

"I'm sure you travel a lot, don't you? It doesn't leave much time for..." She cast a glance toward the bed. "Things. My husband works all the time, so I don't get things as much as I'd like. But that doesn't mean I don't love him."

Clate raised his eyebrows and looked at her. "But you still haven't told me what this..." It was his turn to look at the bed. "Was." He wasn't even sure what he wanted it to be.

Her stare was cold as he looked at him and, in her eyes, he saw a laugh.

"You surely didn't think it was anything more than a good time," she replied. "I'm married to Alexander Cross! If seducing me into your bed wasn't foolish, expecting me to what? Run off and be with you? That's plain idiocy!"

She stood tall, righteous, and looked downright bitchy as she spoke. There was no doubt she was Alexander's wife. She had the same demeanor. Why hadn't he seen it before?

"You and Alex must have attended the same college," Clate observed, squelching a smile as he waited to be able to deliver the punch line.

Abby fidgeted. "Why do you say that?"

"Because you both must have attended classes on how to sell yourself to the highest bidder. Alexander's a whore in the board room, and it's clear that you..."

He shook his head and smiled.

"Have the bedroom aced. And for the record?"

Abby's face flushed bright red, but he couldn't tell if it was anger or embarrassment. He didn't care.

"I have never seduced a whore into my bed."

He grabbed his wallet off his desk and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. "I just usually don't forget to pay for services rendered."

Abby stormed past him and right out the door, slamming it behind her. He put his money back into his wallet and headed toward the bathroom for a shower. For a minute, he almost felt badly for talking to her as he did. But, as he saw it, there were only two choices: make plans to fuck her again (and regularly). Or make it so she never came back since the woman was clearly trouble. She wouldn't give him the first, so he wrote his own insurance plan for the second.

But damn! He stepped under the hot spray and thought of her body and how good it felt around his. Truth be known, he'd fuck her again in a heartbeat, bitch or not. She made traveling all across the country and staying in a shitty motel room worth it. Oh yeah. He'd fuck her again. In fact, it was too bad all of his clients didn't have horny little wives like Cross. It would make work so much sweeter. Fucking sweet assed whore.