AN: My first story in a very long time, written as a challenge from The Very Last Valkyrie, in just half an hour. Set-up is one of the, I'm sure many, unseen hate sex encounters in season four.
Insatiable
She had to end this.
The business paper in front of her had been staring back at her for hours unaltered.
But her mind was not in it- her heart wasn't it in. She could not stop thinking of his fingers on her skin, all electric and searing heat, the flash of hazel eyes.
"Ugh! No more!" she groaned, slamming the tomb of a textbook shut. She slipped on her Roger Vivier's and wrapped the silky Burberry trench around her petite frame. Her soft chocolate curls gently bobbing as she whirled down the spirals stairs on her way out of the penthouse.
The elevator climbed effortlessly, carrying her higher and higher, towards the devils' lair. It halted as the abrupt 'ding' announced she had arrived, the pounding of her heart in her ears. Heat flushed her face and her fingers tingled. The door slid open and though it felt like fractions of a second, he was waiting for her. His lithe body leaned against the doorframe; arms crossed, his legs casually crossing, one glossy Ferragamo resting on the other. His eyes, half closed, he looked upon her through his thick dark lashes, twinkling. It was his mouth that was the worst- that half smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as it tugged on her heartstrings.
Her mind went fuzzy with lust, how did she end up in his arms? His fingers tangled in her silken curls, his mouth was hot, burning her lips, begging them to open to him so he might sear their souls together. Her deft fingers, despite their trembling, undid his shirt buttons with ease. The slight clink as she undid the Hermes belt around his waist, he groaned as she unbuttoned his pants, a slight shutter as the zipper passed over his straining desire. He clawed at her dress, his mouth pressing on her neck, teeth nipping at the soft skin.
He pressed her against the floor-to-ceiling window; the breathtaking view of the city beyond was lost on them as they attempted to sate their craving for each other. His hands found the soft flesh of her breasts as she moaned his name. He ached for the heat he knew was waiting for him, and he gives, slipping between her legs, a devil in the night, coming to collect what is his and his alone.
It's messy and much too fast, though it was also an age. On the desk, the floor, she left nail marks in his back, his legs, his teeth had sank into her shoulder, and he gripped her so hard, pounding her flesh against him as though he could meld their bodies together, there were sure to be faint bruises. A low growl, his mouth crashed against hers, as he shuttered, pressing into her one last time.
His breath was hot on her neck as they lay together. He felt emptiness fill him as the warmth of her body pulled away. She looked worn down as she lifted her discarded dress off the floor and it played a melancholy chord on his heartstrings. He reached out for her when she whispered with pleading eyes," I can't keep doing this, Chuck."
His heart sank, immobilized with the thought of losing her again, even this sliver of passion she allowed him to touch. And as suddenly as she had been before him, she was gone.