CHAPTER 1

Shade of Wetness

Chapter 1

The rain started the moment Lena crossed the threshold of the old loft.

She had not planned to come here. The key had been left under the mat like a dare, and she had taken it because the alternative was another night of staring at the ceiling in her own apartment, counting the hours until dawn. The loft belonged to Marcus. He had texted once, three days ago: *If you need a place don’t ask questions.* No signature. No explanation. Just the address and the key.

Lena walked deeper into the room. A single lamp was burned near the low platform bed. The color of the bedsheet were storm clouds already spread on the bed. On the nightstand sat a bottle of water and a folded black towel. Nothing else. No photographs. No clothes scattered. The place felt scrubbed clean of history, as if Marcus had prepared it the way a man prepares a stage.

She peeled off her soaked coat and hung it on the single hook by the door. Her blouse clung to her skin. The fabric had gone translucent in the rain; the lace of her bra showed through like a second shadow. She did not bother changing. The heat in the loft was low, almost cool, and her nipples tightened against the wet cotton. She liked the sensation. It kept her present.

A soft click sounded behind her. The door she had just locked opened again. Marcus stepped inside, water dripping from the ends of his dark hair. He was taller than she remembered from the gallery opening three weeks ago, his chest is broader across the shoulders. His shirt was open at the front, the collar darkened by water. He did not smile. He simply looked at her the way a man looks at something he has already decided to take.

“You came,” he said. His voice was low, almost conversational, but it carried across the open space without effort.

“You left the key.”

“I left the key so you could choose.” He closed the door. The lock clicked with a heavy sound. “You made your choice Lena.”

Lena’s pulse kicked hard against her throat. She did not step back. She had spent too many nights rehearsing this exact moment in her head, turning it over until the edges frayed. Now that he stood in front of her, Her breathing, the rehearsals felt thin.

Marcus crossed the room without hurry. When he stopped in front of her the heat of his body reached her first—rain-cooled skin giving way to deeper warmth. He lifted one hand and brushed a strand of wet hair from her cheek. His thumb rested just beneath her lower lip, pressing lightly.

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m cold.”

“No.” His thumb traced the seam of her mouth. “You’re not.”

He kissed her then, Not gently. The first press of his mouth was deliberate, open, tasting of rain and the faint burn of whiskey. Lena’s hands rose without thought, her fingers curling into the damp fabric of his shirt. He made a low sound in his throat and deepened the kiss, his tongue was sliding against hers with slow, thorough strokes. The kiss did not ask permission. Its took another turn.

When he broke away she was breathing hard. He kept his forehead against hers for a moment, his eyes were dark and steady.

“Last chance to walk out,” he said. “After this I don’t stop.”

She answered by pulling his mouth back to hers.

Marcus moved with controlled force. He walked her backward until the backs of her thighs hit the edge of the platform bed. One hand fisted in the wet fabric of her blouse and he yanked it.They put their clothes on the floor. The ruined blouse was hung open. He stared at the lace covering her breasts, then simply tore the bra open. The cups fell away and Cool air kissed her nipples; a second later he brought his mouth over to the left one, hot and insistent. He sucked hard, his teeth grazing the peakand his tongue working in tight circles. Lena’s head fell back. A broken sound left her throat.

He switched to the other breast without pause, sucking just as fiercely while his hands dragged her skirt up her thighs. The fabric bunched at her hips. He found the edge of her underwear and ripped it aside.He pushed two fingers between her legs and sank into the heat there without preamble. She was already slick. The wet sound of his fingers sliding in and out filled the room.

“Fuck,” he muttered against her skin. “You’ve been thinking about this.”

She could not form words. Her hips rolled against his hand, chasing the thick glide of his fingers. He added a third and curled them, pressing hard against the spot that made her vision narrow. His thumb found her clit and rubbed in rough, precise circles. The dual pressure built fast, almost too fast. Lena’s thighs trembled. She clutched his shoulders, with her nails digging in.

Marcus pulled his fingers free just before she tipped over. She made a sound of pure frustration. He wiped the wetness across her lower lip and kissed her again, forcing her to taste herself. Then he turned her roughly and bent her forward over the bed. The platform was low; she had to brace on her forearms, She then presented her ass, her skirt was still on her waist.

She heard the soft sound of his zipper. He freed his cock and settled it against the cleft of her ass, hot and thick. He dragged the head through her clit once, twice, coating himself, then notched against her entrance and pushed in with one long, relentless stroke.

Lena cried out. The stretch burned and then bloomed into something sweeter. He did not give her time to adjust. His hands clamped on her hips and he began to fuck her in deep thrusts that brings out every thing. The wet slap of skin on skin mixed with the rain. Each stroke forced a broken sound from her throat. He kept the rhythm steady, almost clinical in its intensity, until her arms gave out and she collapsed onto the mattress and her cheek was pressed to the sheet.

Marcus followed her down without breaking the connection. He slid one hand under her body and use one to cup her breast, pinching the nipple hard enough to make her buck. The other reached between her legs and found her clit again, rubbing it this time with his thrusts. The dual assault left no room for thought. Pressure coiled tight and slowly. When it broke it ripped through her in hard, pulsing waves. She cum with a ragged cry, her walls were clenching around him, her body is shaking.

He did not slow. He fucked her through the orgasm and passed it, chasing his own. His breathing became loud. The strokes grew shorter, harder. He buried himself to the hilt and held there, a low groan tearing from his chest as he emptied into her. Heat flooded her. She felt every throb.

For a long moment the only sound was the rain and their breathing. Marcus stayed buried himself inside her, his chest against her back, one arm braced beside her head. When he finally pulled out creampies slipped down the inside of her thigh. He watched it for a second, then pressed two fingers back into her, pushing his cum deeper.

“Stay open for me,” he said quietly. “I’m not finished with you tonight.”

Lena turned her head enough to see his face. Rain still streaked the glass roof above them. Lightning flashed, throwing the loft into stark white for an instant. In that light his eyes looked almost black.

She did not close her legs.

Outside, the storm kept pouring. Inside, the night had only begun.