Dara

Tonight’s assignment had to be more difficult than any he had ever been given. 

Thud . . . Thud . . . Thud . . . 

The rhythmic pounding maintained a steady tempo against his back.  Rinaldo fought desperately to direct his mind to any topic other than what was happening directly on the other side of the door.   Like a drowning man, he desperately clung to the one lifeline he was suddenly given.

Amid the grunts and moans of the intimate act taking place just beyond the door behind him, almost inaudible strains of Anita Baker’s Sweet Love fought their way to Rinaldo’s ears.  With superhuman concentration, he attempted to narrow his focus down to the music alone.

Inside the penthouse Dara panted with the effort of maintaining her silence.  With each thrust of Sonny’s hips, however, her control grew less and less.  He was like a man possessed.  Or, more correctly, he was a man determined to possess.  Dara.

“Querida…” The word echoed like a chant in her ear.  “Mi amor…”

Gone were thoughts of discomfort or embarrassment.  Dara no longer felt the press of the hard wood door against her back.  It was all she could do to concentrate on the hard body between her thighs.  Between the melodic endearments Sonny moaned into her ear and the unrelenting rhythm he maintained within her body, Dara was near the breaking point.

“Oh…my…god…Michael.”  Dara’s strangled plea snapped the fragile bond of self-control that Sonny had left.  The pace of his thrusts became feverish as he raced toward release.

…Hear me calling out your name

I feel no shame

I’m in love, Sweet love….

Rinaldo jumped as a particularly loud thump sounded through the wood.  He winced and hoped that Miss Jensen would not be as sore tomorrow as he imagined she would have to be.  Immediately he realized the direction his thoughts had taken and closed his eyes.

Big mistake.