Eraser Crimson by Megan Keith, Renee Kubisch

didn’t seem to fit the space.  It felt cold, not homely at all.  Shiny, stark white tiles lined the floor, modern white leather seats were arranged sparsely, white walls holding detached-looking bland colored artwork framed the room and a lonely potted plant sat on the floor to her side.  The small palm the only splash of color and life in the whole room.  It was nothing like his beautifully decorated mansion.  That felt like a home, an overly large one, but still inviting.  This place felt clinical.  Definitely more Sir than Nate.
    Nate butted his cigarette out in the ashtray, the blistering cold wind biting his fingers and cheeks.  Sliding the glass door open he stepped from the balcony back into the warm apartment and froze at the sight of the beautiful woman standing in the center of the room.
    “Mackenzie,” he greeted her, his legs making quick work at eating up the space between them.  He cupped both of her cheeks and placed a tender kiss on her lips.  He had been waiting more than thirteen hours to have her back in his grasp, his lips on hers.  Too fucking long .
    Mackenzie shivered at the coldness of his hands.  She sighed into his mouth before his hot tongue dipped in and she fell into his kiss.  He tasted of cigarettes, scotch, and just HIM .  His hands rested on the sides of her face when he pulled back to look at her, his dark eyes focusing on her green ones.  She was struck by the thought that all day a part of her had been missing and now, back in his arms, she felt whole again.
    “Hi,” she said, almost shyly.
    “You’re finally here.”  He pressed another kiss to her lips before moving his hands down to her neck, back, then lower to cup her ass.  Pulling her against his body, he said, “It was a really long day.”  He kissed her chin, neck and collarbone as his hands skimmed the edge of her skirt.  He inhaled her sweet perfume, loving that she was back in his arms.  His fingers trailed up her thighs, lifting her tight black skirt as they went. 
    “Nate,” she whimpered.
    He glided his fingers over the garters on her thighs, she shivered and his cock hardened.  He found the edge of her panties, quickly tugged them aside and slid a finger inside her.  She was already wet and ready for him.  He sucked in a quick breath.
    “ So fucking good. ”
    “Ahh,” she gasped.  He withdrew his finger then re-inserted two.  She bucked against him.  “Your fingers are cold,” she whispered, her hands tangling in his dark hair as she leaned into him.  He started pumping his fingers in and out of her body, the coldness of his flesh only adding to her pleasure.  She was clenching and climbing, aching to climax.
    He could read her body, she was close, she needed it.  Tightening his arm around her waist, he increased his pace, bending his fingers to hit that special spot.  She leaned her chest against him, her head lifting, back arching, she was gasping into his neck, her hot heat clenching around his fingers.
    “Come for me,” he pleaded .  He needed her pleasure as much as he needed his own.  He wanted to give her all that she desired, he wanted to give her … fucking everything .
    “Ahh …”  Her whole body twitched and writhed against him.  “Yes,” she croaked out, desperate for oxygen in her lungs, her mouth dry as her orgasm ripped through her.  “Mmm.”  She clung to the lapels of his jacket, resting her forehead on his chest, just below his shoulder, breathing heavily on weak legs.
    “Hi,” he murmured into her hair as he withdrew his fingers.
    “Some greeting.”  She smiled, squeezing her eyes shut tight, trying to regain some composure.  “I thought I was meant to decide what we do tonight.”  She was out of breath as she spoke.
    “Ah, yes.”  He stepped back to look at her hooded eyes, trying to appear at least a little apologetic, though he felt nothing of the sort.  The look on her face made it obvious she didn’t believe him for a second