The Office

The Loft

He slowly understands himself and his secretary is the reason why.
"Mr. Coulter?" I close my laptop and let it slide into my briefcase, running a hand through my short hair and over my tired eyes to wake me up. My phone in my pocket vibrates probably to notify me that my ticket for the plane was sent to my e-mail. My long legs carry me over to the door. I right my dress shirt before I open the door to find a young man dressed in the colors of the hotel – dark blue and off-white – infront of it. I raise an eyebrow and he nods respectfully in greeting taking a step back to not invade my personal space.

"Your cab is here, Sir." He says and I sigh in relief. His gold placate indentifies him as George, the name in black letters under the name of the hotel – Woodmark.probabaly a student at the University of Washington that wants to earn a bit of money because god knows how expensive a good education is.

"Thank you, George." I pull my wallet out of my backpocket and fish for some money to tip him. Before I can, he speaks up again.

"Shall I wait for you to help with your luggage, Sir?" He asks and I can't help myself, a smirk pulls at my lips at the question. I know its protocol in hotels like this one, five stars and all, and the poor lad has probably to deal with remarks – nice and mean – enough at it is, but I look him up and down, this portion of a barely old enough boy to be called a man and snort.

"Thank you, but no. I can deal with it." George's cheeks color lightly and I give him his generous tip as a silent sorry, turn around and close the door. Why my secretary decides that I need high class hotels to stay in whenever I travel somewhere, I have no idea. I would think she knows me enough to be aware that things like luxury, 10ish courses of food menues and around the clock availability of masseurs is nothing I care about one way or another. I even pointed out to her after one of my first stays in a hotel she picked that it won't be necessary to spend so much money on something I don't need in the future. There was something in her eyes back then – I think it was her fourth month in Dauntless – somthing that said she knew something I didn't when she answered me and said that I will just have to deal with it from now on.

I didn't like that she thought she could boss me around like that but felt it was a too small detail to make a scene about and just let her behavior slip. Thinking of it now, maybe because she knows me the way she does, she purposefully decides to book these hotels because she herself can't make sure I eat or relax enough when I am away. Maybe she is the reason why I find a good, still a bit bloody steak with potatoes and vegetables – one of my favorit dishes – in my room a cold German beer beside it whenever I stay somewhere. It would fit her caring character and the thought makes me smile slightly. But it also makes me aware how deep her affection or her will to take care of me has to root in her being. Its frightening and I can't bring myself to believe that she does all of this just because she is good at her job.

She is brilliant in the things she does, a real help and everything a man like me, a man in my position could ask for. And I am sure she would still be that good even without her feelings for me, because she is smart and can live two roles at the same time: the professional and the devoted while I picture her devoted to her job and professional in the sexuality she showed me. Delicate but determined. I groan slightly when images that bothered me for the last two hours enter my mind and hurry up to get my things together.

The hotel is brightly lit but I don't encounter anyone on my way down, my fast steps echoing slightly in the empty corridors. I make my way over to the reception, a middle-aged man in a black suite standing behind it, lecturing the boy I ridiculued slightly about one thing or another but stops immediately when he sees me closing in on them.

"Mr. Coulter. It was such a pleasure to have you with us." The black suite-clad man says with a warm smile and a strong handshake. I nod in his direction and want to already have everything finished, the cordialities too much for my tensed nerves and preoccupied brain.

"Yes, it was great. Good steak. I want to check out now, so please give me the bill, my flight won't wait for me." I know I sound blunt and impatient and I am and don't really care. They get a lot of money and I think it will lighten the burden of having to deal with my tired and on edge self.

"Don't you worry about it, Sir. Everything is already taken care of by a woman named Ms. Prior, your secretary I presume." Of course she would do this. Maybe I am too tired to keep up with the normal proceedings when I am on a business trip. I close my eyes for a moment, her scent around me and gritt my teeth.

"Good. Goodbye." I nod in his direction, my briefcase and bag in hand and go outside, the night cold but at least its not snowing again. A cab is already waiting for me and without things and annoying talks holding me back we make our way through Seattle to the airport.

I like the feeling of the steering wheel in my hands, the sounds my car makes as I turn the key and the power I feel when I push the gas pedal. Being in control again after the four hour flight back to Chicago feels calming. I hadn't planned to be back until much later, the clock in my Mercedes showing me it is three in the morning and the long day slowly creeps up on me. But I just needed to drive twenty minutes and could take her in my arms. My own need for her surprises me, makes me gritt my teeth and I try to convince myself that it stems from me missing her clenching around me instead of her soft body next to mine in sleep.

I thought after getting off on the phone with her sweet sounds in my ear I would sleep through the night without problems, only to find out that after tossing and turning for over an hour her voice in my head called me to go back this instance. I am a dominant man, sure of myself, but discover that she can manipulated me without even trying to, without her consciously deciding on it. Maybe its my body longing for the contact I denied myself often enough because I don't want drama in my life. But maybe its her and the things she makes me feel aside from the best sex I had in years.

The streets are empty at this time of the night, only a few driving to shifts at the docks or students going home from partying all night. I feel the calmness of it all around me while within me a flame burns for the woman that shouldn't be of any interest to me beside being my helping hand in Dauntless. But my flesh is weak and my mind seems even weaker when images of her start to appear in it. I shouldn't think of her like that or at least should continue to control my own emotional and physical needs. Making the decision to go back to her in the middle of the night makes me scowl at myself, my muscles tense in anger because its a bold sign for my weakness. A weakness I can't stand, that presses heavily on my chest and lets a foul taste appear in my mouth. A weakness I would give anything to get rid of.

But at the same time not. It would mean to get rid of her, forget about the last day and a half, scratch her from my life. And with her the reminder that I am human after all would be gone as well. And I think I couldn't live with myself anymore if I would make myself do just that. It would be easier, it would maybe be better – at least for her – I am aware of that. But I am a selfish man and thats the reason why I will keep her and with her the knowledge that I am human. Though the notion is foreign, a bit painful and lets my chest tighten uncomfortably, I feel lighter because of it at the same time. It makes me vulnerable, but it makes me see my own limits as well and with that gives me new things to overcome. It gives me new goals, personal goals to put my focus on. And maybe I will keep her not just for that but because she is a challenge herself. Soft and stubborn, clever and naive, passionate and sweet. A contradition herself and maybe even my equal.

I frown at the thought. I am an arrogant male, hold myself that way and I am proud of it and myself. I know that I accomplished the things in my life on my own, worked hard and it payed off. I know I control the things in my life to a fault, am sophisticated, well-mannered if I want to be as well as charming. And to call her my equal would mean that besides the feelings I already know she evokes within me something deeper is there as well. My eyes narrow at the discovery, my body tensing and I know my muscles reaction is an unconscious sign from my subconscious mind to get the hell away from the danger. The danger is her.

I leave the interstate, driving along the streets now that will lead me to her loft. It is in an old part of the city that once was an industrial area with big storehouses built with red bricks and high, coal-stained windows. In the hard years before the second World War when the States found themselves in a financial repression and Roosevelt hadn't come up with his magnificient plan yet to rebuilt the system, most of this area was vacated, the storehouses empty, their windows dark holes against the grey sky of Chicago. In the years after the devastating war the buildings were forgotten, demolished for the most part and instead of being used for the newly florishing industry new storehouses were build, further down Lake Michigan to have better access to it.

A young investor bought the area in the 60s, saw potential in it to be the new hot spot for luxury quarters for the adult children of too rich parents and started reconstructing it. He used the old structures – the broad transportations ways, the loading areas, the many parking spaces – to construct a dream for any young adult, single or fresh in a relationship, of bars, shopping opportunities and living quarters, redesigning the once forgotten storehouses to luxury lofts, open and bright, with hardwood floors and the rough, industrial charm artists, their agencies and people without a practical approach to life yearned for.

Though the 60s long in the past and the then new flair gone with the years as well, the area was still highly populated, a nice part of Chicago with charming people living their alternative lives, growing organic food on the roofs or their balconies, music sounding through the streets and artists highlightening the red brick walls with their grafitti. I am not surprised that she loves to live here, that she chooses this part of her hometown to go to after her job in the city is done for the day. I think because she grew up in the same bleak, grey and oppressive environment Four grew up in its normal for her to compensate it with the colorful life in this area, just like Four chose a life full of adrenalin and danger.

I shut down the engine, look out through my windshield for a moment and get lost in the snow falling down. I could still turn around and drive home, sleep away the time and maybe find an excuse to stand her off in the afternoon because I don't want to talk about what 'it' is. The thing between us. I scoff at myself because even though I am just pretending and its nothing more than an unlikly plan in my mind it also shows how frightened I am. So I pull the key out of the engine, stuff it in my pocket to not find myself suddenly in my driveway and discover I am a coward after all I thought I knew about myself.

I try to pretend for a second that my body makes the decision to stay instead of my mind, but know I am a fool to do so. A fool that can't accept that his sweet, caring secretary possesses a part of him he wasn't even aware is there. I hate myself for it and wish just for a moment I would be, could be another man. Maybe even a better man, a man well rounded, perfect. A man that can cherish the feelings a female or male awakes in him. A man that didn't need so long to accept his weakness and turned it to his strength long ago instead. But the wish is fleeting because I already know I will do that in my own time. This resolve makes me calm, makes me strong.

So I open my door, lock my car after getting my bags and jog up the stairs to the second floor. I find myself infront of her door, can see through the glass beside the door that the curtains are pulled close to stop the cold air from the corridor to seep into her loft. I gritt my teeth, can't really control the painful pull at my heart for her to open the damn door when my knuckles connect with the wood. She sleeps, I tell myself, try to be patient and failing, my knocking louder, my breath ragged in my own ears. I hear a groan and smirk, I hear shuffling and think my heart will stop for a second and then her pale, sleepy face appears, mussed hair and all from behind her slightly opened door.

"What are you doing here?" She whispers, opening the door a bit wider, her voice adorably rough. Instead of answering I push open the door, let my bags fall to the ground and engulf her in my arms, enjoying the feeling of her petite, soft body finally pressed against mine. I lift her up a bit and press my lips against her warm ones. She is probably overwhelmed by my sudden appearance and needs a moment before she responses. I groan when I feel her nails lightly scraping my skin when she puts her arms around my neck and begins to kiss me back with this clever mouth of hers.

I take a step forward, my secretary secured in my arms and push the door closed with the heel of my foot. I stumble slightly, not able to stop kissing her and make my way forward. Her scent is sweet around me, makes me feel warmth slip into my body. Her mouth wanders to my neck, her hot tongue darting out, caresses my skin. I grab the backside of her bare thighs to hoist her higher up on me, legs wrapped around my waist to secure her against me.

I groan slightly as her teeth scrape my skin and close my eyes for a moment, holding still and enjoy her ministrations. I feel the strain of my pants and try to orientate in the foreign loft, her touches and kisses not helping me but feeling too good to stop her. I am fascinated that she can easily distract me when I am otherwise a focused man. Finding her bed on a podest I carry her to it, the only light provided by her bedside lamp. I set her down on her bed, her eyes meeting mine and aren't as dazed anymore from sleep but burning with a fire that makes me breathless for a moment. I have to concentrate to not let my instincts take over, taking her right here and right now.

I lean over her, push her down to her lay on her back and watch as her hot tongue darts out, the movement of it against her plum lips, moistening them driving me insane. Her hands find my shoulders, want to push my coat from them, but I catch them in my own hands, marveling at the contact, how feminine and gentle these hands are, how they would be of better use taking care of children instead of typing reports for a boss that only a few months ago started to realize how important she is – not only as his secretary but as a human he trusts.

I let my lips brush her fingertips before I press her hands down next to her head, into the soft mattress with a bit more force then necessary. A small part of me still holds on to my control though I feel it slipping because she is so close, her scent lingering in her covers invading my nose and my walls lowered because I am tired and have missed her so freaking much.

"Lay still." I command, my voice even to my own ears rough. I push myself up on my knees, stand a moment after at the foot of her bed and slowly start to undress myself, eyes never leaving her form. I like the way she watches me, eyes huge, hair around her head. Then something changes, a slight ripple in the atmosphere around us and I try to brace myself – for whatever may come.

"I thought you won't be back until later and I thought..." She says, crease between her brows and stops herself. I can only imagine what goes through this pretty, clever head of hers and hold her gaze with my eyes that probably express the fire I feel for seeing and feeling her again. But I am also aware that I can't just ignore the sadness that seems to drown her at the moment – a sadness I am responsible for. I am not good with emotions, not sure how to handle her but I have to try at least, have to show her that she doesn't need to worry. My voice is gentle when I answer her and I hope I can be enough for a woman like her.

"That I won't come back to you first chance I got? How couldn't I? You were the one thing on my mind the whole day." I finish for her and she averts her eyes, her face turned into an expression I think is a mixture of self-consciousness and happiness.

I lay down next to her, bracing my head on my hand and look down on her. She bites her lip before she looks up, meets my eyes head on. The atmosphere around us changes again, embraces me and I think her, too. A foreign sensation of being right where I should be raises within me and I sigh not up to push it away. I let my thumb run over her bottom lip, enjoying the soft texture of it against my finger. She surprises me with biting it softly and I smirk down at her before I pull her on top of me easily, my erection pressing against her core through my shorts, her hands bracing herself against my chest, fingertips brushing over my pierced nipples.

My hands grab her hips, pushing the fabric of her shirt up in the process and in the soft glow of her light on the nightstand I see she doesn't wear any shorts or underwear under it. I feel my lips pulling into a smirk, my hands tightening at the realisation.

"Is it a habit of yours to not wear underwear or just something you consciuosly decide on to tease me." I ask, voice husky, my fingers wandering over her perfect hipbones to her folds, vanishing in them. She is hot and wet, shudders at the contact and lifts herself up a bit circling her hips to get a more relieving friction, using my fingers the way she likes it. My eyes wander from my hand at her sex over her arms to her pure face.

I pull her shirt above her head, my bare chest connecting with hers, her pink perked nipples brushing against me. I scoot back, pull her with me, hands on her ass and lean against the headboard. I let my hands wander to her waist, push her back lightly to have a better access to her pussy. She braces her hands against my thighs, aches her back back when I pinch her clit, my middlefinger slowly wandering down to her entrance. She shudders above me and I am transfixed by the way her breasts move from her skaky inhale. My other hand strokes her breasts, my eyes fixed on her, lean forward again to take a nipple into my mouth and bite down gently. She hums above me, her hips moving on their own accord again and I think she is the most perfect woman I was ever with, responsive, soft but strong.

I continue to tease her, enjoying the soft sounds leaving her mouth and the feeling of my slightly rough hands featherlight on her heated skin. My eyes are drawn back to her face when she bites her lip, maybe at the intensity and want with which I observe her grinding and shivering body over mine. My hand brushes down her side, my thumb stroking under her breast, over her ribs before I pull my hand from her sex, angling her body a bit to have enough room to push my shorts down, the fabric in the way to feeling complete.

She sinks down on me slowly and I squint my eyes close at this first relief of feeling her ready against me, for me. Tris grinds her wet folds against my hard cock, the movement of her hips sure and teasing. My hips move on their own accord, pushing up against her but stops me from entering her. I bite my lip at the wild fire I see burning in her when our eyes met, a growl leaving my mouth when she barely brushes her soft folds against my length.

I lean my head back, groaning and see through half-lidded eyes a small smile appear on her soft lips. I hope she understands what I want to give her with this. I hope she feels powerful for having the control. I hope she understands like she always does that there is something more behind my gesture that would be normal for any other man but not for me because I am dominant and giving her this moment means giving her power over me like no one got before.

She continues to tease me, grinding against me softly, hovering above my length and bites my neck. I open my eyes then and the glint in her eyes lets me know that she understands what I need to take back again to be the man I am. My hand goes between us, Tris staying still for a moment and I pinch her bundle of nerves, enjoying the way her eyes close in pleasure. I grip her hips afterwards, lift her up to align my cock to her waiting entrance, the teasing making my nerves highly aware. My eyes hold hers when I penetrate her in one powerful jerk of her hips down and a cry leaves her lips, nails boring into my skin, my own relieved groan accompanying her.

We stay still for a moment, her eyes squinted close maybe because the intense feeling of me inside of her overwhelms her as much as her warm and wet pussy around me overwhelms me. I capture her lips then, kiss her deeply, tongue meeting hers, sucking at it and biting her soft bottom lip. When we pull apart I brush my knuckles over her perfect nipples and feel her walls tightening around me in response letting me moan throatily.

I grab her hips again and she starts to move slowly and just a bit, probably savoring the friction and all of me deep inside of her. Her eyes are fixed on my face, her hands braced against my shoulders. I watch her move above me and the feeling is so much more intense because I can see her pleasure, hear her pleasure and feel it, too. And though she knows I am the one in control, her eyes glint with strength and affection that makes me admit something to her I hadn't planned but feel it is the right thing to say.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you." My voice is a whisper in her otherwise silent loft, my voice raspy, breath labored and I know my eyes shine with the fire she awakes in me. She bites her lip, her eyes dark with an intense emotion I can't grasp. I wonder what goes through her head, if she knows I thought about her every minute consciously or unconsciously, if she knows that not only her willing body but her beautiful mind made me miss her and feel her absence. I should tell her as much, let her know what I think, but I don't.

The soft sounds leaving her body as she leans forward a bit to change our angle make me groan in reply, one of my hands wandering up her back to lace my fingers through her blond hair. I pull softly, the hiss leaving her mouth a mixture of pain and lust, and I think she beggs for more when her teeth bite my shoulder. My other hand wanders down her back, her ass already in a position where I can reach her second entrance. She clenches her muscles around me, making my head fall back in pleasure, when I start to message her anus.

Her movements above me drive me wild and I pull her hair again, her head following the movement of my hand, exposing her throat to me. I take back my hand at her ass, supporting her back instead when I lean forward, my tongue running over her heated skin, making her hum in pleasure. I nuzzle her neck for a moment, sucking at her pulse point, the sound leaving her mouth making it vibrate against my lips. I bite down then, a throaty groan my response and I pull her hair again.

She leans back even more, her shoulderblades nearly connecting with my legs, my cock close to leaving her pussy and I bite down on her collarbone, latching my tongue at the spot to alleviate the pain. She moans when my mouth connects with her nipple again, teeth softly pulling at it, twisting it slightly, her hands going to my hair, pulling at the strands, her thighs shivering against mine in pleasure and straining her muscles.

"Eric..." She moans and I am close to being undone at the breathless sound of my name leaving her mouth. I pull away from her then, go to my knees and lay her down, enjoying the view of her flushed skin. I let my hands wander down her body and pull her hips up. Her shoulders are down on her bed, her hands fisted in the blankets and I slowly glide into her, watch my cock disappear slowly, to appear moments later.

Her walls are tight around me and I moan from deep in my throat when she tenses them, my eyes rolling back in my head at the intense feeling. My hands are clasped at her hips, probably a bit too hard to be comfortable and leaving marks on her pale skin, but she doesn't seem to mind, tries to meet my trusts instead, her knuckles white against her green sheets. I lower us down a bit, one hand leaving her hip to go between us, finding her clit and pinching it. She groans, throws her head to the other side.

I continue to trust into her, my movement slowly going frantic and I am transfixed by the way I see her wind up tighter, by the way she fixes her eyes on mine, her soft lips parted and red from kisses shared and being bitten. She clenches her muscles around me again and when I pinch her bundle of nerves in response she moans from deep in her throat, her eyes widened to let them stay open through the waves of her release I feel flowing through her, taking me with her.

I fall forward, bracing my elbows on either side of her head to not crush her. Our eyes are still fixed onto each other, grey meeting grey-blue and in this moment I accept the part of me that already decided that this woman is my undoing.

I kiss her softly, her lips molding against mine, her movements muted just like mine are. When I pull back our breaths mingle and I feel the tiredness catching up on me finally. I roll next to her, pull her against my side and let my fingertips run along her bare back. She sighs, presses a kiss to my chest, her hand wandering around my waist making my muscles ripple with her touch.

"Welcome home, Eric." She whispers and I smile.

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