It was the middle of the night when we finally left the hospital and headed home. Another patient taking a turn for the worse, another bleary-eyed brainstorming session fueled by coffee and adrenaline. Eventually we just couldn't think anymore, couldn't make any more headway without the necessary test results. The patient would live until morning, at least. The four of us walked like zombies to the parking lot and mumbled incoherent goodbyes.
"Feels like rain," she said as she swung her leg over the seat and adjusted the strap of her helmet.
She clasped her hands together just over my belt buckle, her chest pressed against my back, as I started the bike's engine and tested the throttle noisily before speeding off into the hot, humid summer night. Her body moved with mine, leaned into the curves with practiced ease, counterbalanced my weight perfectly. She always balanced me perfectly in everything.
The raindrops started out small and scattered. No need to stop and put on the rain gear. But as we turned onto our street, the drops grew fatter and more insistent. A distant rumble of thunder told me the storm meant business now. Only a few more blocks to go. We'd arrive home wet, but no worse for the wear.
There's something about riding the bike in the warm rain. It's cleansing, purifying, invigorating, thrilling. Maybe a little scary, even. You never know what will happen, how the bike will respond. A small, innocent puddle can instantly become your undoing.
But not tonight. Tonight, we pulled into our usual parking spot and I killed the engine. She hopped off first and removed her helmet, shook her hair out. It hung in wet curls on the bottom half, and the top half was quickly becoming soaked as well. She looked up into the night sky and stuck her tongue out to catch rain drops, then closed her eyes and laughed.
She looked so uninhibited, living completely in the moment. I loved that about her. My Allison. My lifeline to reality. My constant reminder to get out of my own head and pay the fuck attention to things that mattered. Like her. She mattered. More than anything else.
So I stood close to her, took her hand in mine, and threw my head back and opened my mouth to taste the summer rain. She stood on her tiptoes and pulled my head down for a quick kiss on my lips, just a tiny peck before she ran off across the slippery grass. I watched her run in circles, take her shoes off and throw them in opposite directions, splash through a puddle, laugh like a little kid running through a sprinkler.
She came back to me, stood in front of me and wrapped her hands around my neck. I kissed her temples while she caught her breath. We laced our fingers together and walked to the front door of our condo, not caring that her shoes were still laying in the grass.
My fingers fumbled with the key as she suddenly grew frisky. I could barely get the key into the lock because her hands were unbuckling my belt, reaching into my jeans, stroking me.
I finally got the door opened, and once inside, she was all over me, pushing me against the wall, dragging her nails down my chest, yanking my drenched jeans down to my ankles. She was soaking wet from head to toe and had to be freezing in the air conditioned condo. A flash of lightning lit up the living room, and several seconds later we felt the rumble of thunder, like the sonic boom of fireworks. She laughed again, ran down the hallway shedding clothes as she went, and I followed her as fast as I could.
I found her already stretched out on our bed, rubbing her legs together sensually. That was a sure fire way to tell just how ready she was. Whenever her legs started moving like that of their own accord, I could count on her being dripping wet and eager to be filled.
My t-shirt and boxers were still on, but those were quickly discarded as I approached the bed. God, I loved watching her like this. She always tried to keep her eyes locked with mine, no matter how intense the sensations became. Tonight, her eyes were dark green, almost a deep emerald. Maybe from the lack of sleep, or maybe from the thrill of playing in the rain. I lowered my body on top of hers with one hand on either side of her head and nuzzled my nose against hers, maintaining that focused gaze that we both craved.
"Greg," she whispered against my lips, a plea for me to take this a step further.
My hand crept down her body, around the fullness of her perfect breasts, across the plane of her taut stomach, nestling in the warmth between her welcoming thighs. Just like I expected, my fingers encountered a slick entrance into which they easily slid. I pushed two fingers inside her, curled them against her inner walls, and captured her moan in my mouth. I wanted to always be there, right there in her hot, wet embrace. I belonged there.
I fucked her slowly with my fingers until she squirmed beneath me, threw one leg around my hip and tried to pull me closer to her body. She smirked, an expression she surely learned from me, and wrapped her cool, petite hand around my cock, guiding me into her.
Usually by this point she would abandon any self control she had left and rock her hips against mine mercilessly until we both saw stars. But tonight, the thunderstorm had her entranced, and she moved slowly, setting the pace for my thrusts. I found a rhythm in the storm, in the swaying of the tree branches next to our bedroom window and in the claps of thunder growing louder and louder. My hips matched that ebb and flow, pushing and pulling along with the gusts of wind.
Her legs wrapped around my back and drew me deeper inside her. I felt the first flutterings of her oncoming climax and I urged her forward every way I knew how. I was damn close and I had to get her there first. I shifted my weight so that I could balance on one arm, and my hand wrapped around her tiny wrist, pulled her hand down between our bodies. She knew exactly what I wanted her to do. With just a few swirls of her finger around her clit, I could already feel her getting exponentially tighter.
"Come on babe, I know you're close," I said, my voice surprisingly deep and husky to my own ears. She nodded her head against my shoulder and dug her nails into my back while still rubbing her clit with her other hand. That act alone could send me over the edge every single time.
I saw a massive bolt of lightning dart across the sky through the window. It couldn't have been more than a mile away, and I knew I had a couple of seconds at most before the thunder would come crashing through the house. My brain somehow got this message to my hips in time, and I slammed into her hard just as we felt the boom.
She instantly clamped down around my cock, and I felt her pulsing around me as she cried out my name.
"Fuck, Allison…" And then I was there too, coming inside her, grunting with the intensity of my orgasm.
I emptied myself, but she was still writhing underneath me, still moaning. I loved it when I had come down off my high and she was still going strong. That meant I got to watch her facial expressions, feel every spasm with overly sensitive nerve endings, coax her on with my words and my touch. I knew exactly what made her squirm, and I used every trick in the book until a single tear spilled from the corner of each eye and she was gasping for air.
I rolled our bodies so that she was on top of me, her head resting on my chest, tucked just underneath my chin.
"Fuck, Greg…" she said in broken syllables as she tried to control her breathing. "How do you do that?"
I looked to my side at the window, watched the fat rain drops hit the pane before running down in rivulets. My fingers combed through strands of her wet hair and I grinned with masculine pride, knowing that I had rendered my woman nearly speechless.
We drifted off to sleep to the sounds of the storm dissipating until eventually all we could hear was the gentle patter of lingering droplets against the window. Tomorrow, we would save a life. But for right now, I had everything that mattered right here in my arms.