Chapter 3: Sex, Supper, Coffee, and Daydreams

Stepping out of the building, Maxim scanned the area for Olga, but she was already gone. With a quiet sigh, he slid behind the wheel of his BMW and closed the door a little harder than necessary. The engine purred to life with a low, throaty growl as he pulled out of the parking lot.

The drive home usually took no more than twenty minutes, but tonight every traffic light and every stop felt torturously long.

A persistent, heavy discomfort throbbed in his pants. His erection still hadn’t gone down after everything that had happened at the office. The fabric of his trousers chafed against him with every movement, and each jolt of the car only reminded him of the aching need he couldn’t shake. He tried to focus on the traffic, on the radio, on anything else — but the images kept flashing through his mind: Olga on her knees, her skirt hiked up, the delicate burgundy lace of her thong twisted between her smooth folds. And then her bold whisper at the exit, the scent of her perfume ... and the warm panties she had slipped into his jacket pocket.

His grip tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. His breathing grew ragged.

She knew exactly what she was doing, he thought. She set that trap deliberately. And damn ... it’s working far too well.

When he finally parked near his building, he let out a long breath — though the tension inside him had only grown stronger. He locked the car and strode quickly toward the entrance.

The elevator ride to the twelfth floor felt endless. Several times he caught his hand drifting toward the pocket where her panties still lay, warm from her body.

The moment he opened the apartment door, his eyes fell on a pair of elegant high-heeled shoes neatly placed on the mat. Kate was home.

A faint, predatory smile touched his lips.

Good, he thought, hanging up his jacket and tossing his keys onto the shelf. All the better.

His body was still burning. The memory of Olga — her knees, her voice, the way she had looked at him — refused to fade. For a split second he wondered if he was about to use Kate as a substitute. The thought flickered and vanished just as quickly, swallowed by raw impatience.

Kate was here. And that meant the pent-up tension raging inside him would finally find release.

As if on cue, a moment later Kate emerged from the dimness of the hallway. She moved smoothly, almost lazily, like a cat, and the faint smile on her lips clearly suggested that wine and a playful mood were swirling inside her. She was wearing nothing but a sheer blue tunic, its thin fabric draping over her body and offering no concealment whatsoever — it was obvious she wore nothing underneath. The light from the room fell at such an angle that the contours of her breasts, hips, the gentle curve of her stomach, and the smooth, hairless line trailing down from her navel were clearly visible through the material.

Maxim froze when he saw his girlfriend like this. Something stirred deep in his chest as the last remnants of his self-control burned away in a single second. He stepped toward her, his gaze locked on the way the delicate fabric clung to her curves with every movement. The air between them suddenly felt thicker, heavier.

Unable to hold back any longer, he closed the distance and squeezed her breast firmly with one hand, feeling its warmth and firmness through the impossibly thin fabric. Kate arched into his touch with a short, ragged exhale, as if she had been waiting for this exact moment. Their lips met in a long, hungry kiss that carried both her playful intoxication and his nearly uncontrollable desire.

With his other hand, he quickly reached for his belt. The buckle clinked loudly in the silence, followed by the soft sound of a zipper being pulled down. Their breathing grew heavier. Kate pressed herself closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, her body responding eagerly to every impatient movement he made. In that moment, the rest of the world ceased to exist — there was no hallway, no time. Only her in that sheer blue tunic, her hot breath against his skin, and the raw desire surging between them.

Maxim pushed her against the hallway wall, still kissing her as if he wanted to devour her completely. Her fingers slid into his hair and along the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. The cold, rough texture of the wall contrasted sharply with the heat of her body. Everything was happening fast, greedy, and unstoppable.

Kate didn’t flinch at his intensity — on the contrary, it seemed to excite her even more. The thin fabric of the tunic barely hid anything, and when Maxim squeezed her breast again, it slipped slightly, revealing the soft edge of her nipple. She let out a quiet moan and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss with surprising hunger.

Kate pulled back just enough to look up at him. Her eyes, glazed with wine and arousal, held a bold, challenging spark. She bit her lower lip, and that single gesture shattered whatever was left of his restraint. Her breath was hot, carrying the faint sweetness of wine, and her gaze dared him to go further. She wasn’t resisting — she was matching his rhythm, responding to every rough touch with her own growing need.

Maxim quickly freed himself from his trousers and boxers, then turned Kate to face the large mirror in the hallway and pressed her against its cool surface. Her palms instinctively braced against the glass, fingers spread, leaving faint misty traces. He paused for a second, drinking in the sight: the elegant curve of her back, the delicate tremble in her shoulders, and the reflection of her half-lidded eyes, already hazy with lust.

With one hand he gripped her waist firmly, while the other guided his throbbing length to her entrance. Kate let out a muffled moan as he pushed inside her in one deep, steady thrust. Her hips instinctively pushed back to meet him, welcoming the intrusion.

He kissed her neck — greedily, roughly — leaving faint red marks on her flushed skin. Every powerful thrust sent visible shivers through her body. In the mirror opposite, their reflections merged into one rhythmic, pulsating shadow. Her moans grew louder, more desperate; she no longer tried to hold them back. Her lips betrayed her desire far more honestly than her drunken smile had only minutes earlier.