As she came into the room, wearing only a towel, he grabbed her arm.
-What are you… but her words were cut off by his lips crashing down on hers. The air left her lungs just as a moan left his lips. Her hands shot to his hair, gripping it, her nails scrapping his scalp. Pushing her up against the wall, placing one of his legs between hers, he grabbed the towel and threw it on the floor.
He had been dying to do so for a long time. He had dreamed of running his hands on her naked and willing body, and so he was. He had known for some time that he was attracted to her; walking by her, he sometimes felt hot, his clothes seeming to tighten. That feeling would strike him quickly and remain for a while.
His knee went up to block her movements, his hands went to caress her curves, her breasts, her ribs, her hips and came to rest on her backside. She moaned into his mouth and her hands, which had come down to his shoulders, suddenly gripped him.
As his lips left hers, he started kissing and biting her neck. Her nimble fingers made a quick job of unbuttoning his shirt and pants. Just as she was taking off his shirt, his mouth enclosed one of her nipples. A hiss and a moan escaped her. His tongue laving the rosy peak felt like heaven, the hot flood of desire pooling between her legs.
-Stop, she said.
Surprised, he raised his head, just in time to see her push him down on the floor. Whatever article of clothing that was left on their straining bodies was quickly removed, leaving them bare and wanting more contact. She wantonly rubbed her center against his aching member, eliciting a strangled groan from her partner in crime. The delicious friction of their bodies was not enough though, and so she decided to lean over and capture his lips in a heated kiss.
He met her half-way, grabbing her hips as their lips and tongues met in a battle of wills. He lifted her up and then sat her down on his manhood, and heard the cry that fell from her lips. He relished in the feel of her tight heat, her liquid fire that enveloped him. He almost lost control.
In motion now, her body undulating above his, her breath coming in short pants, she was the picture of what glorious, oblivious sex is. And as they reached that pinnacle of sexual delights, both trembling and sweaty, she leant over and kissed him, biting his lower lip. The cry that was drawn out of her was his name: a cry of intoxicated rapture, of blissful contentment, which sent him over the edge of passion. In a soundless cry, the power of his climax too overwhelming, he released himself violently.
Lying on the floor of her apartment, sated, sweaty and happy, the two partners in crime drifted off to sleep.