Seoulmates (Seoul 2)

I clean up in record time, throw on the first blouse and pants I can find, and nearly get hit running down the street to hail a taxi. “IF Group,” I say. “Yongsan-gu, gamshamnida.”

The driver takes off and I slump in the seat, texting Yujun a reply.

ME: am in cab. on my way.

YUJUN: Excellent

The lobby of IF Group is empty but for two security guards sitting behind the reception desk. I wave my badge in their general direction and then swipe it over the security sensor. When the elevator doors slide open on the fourteenth floor, he’s waiting, looking deliciously rumpled with his shirt collar open and the tie nowhere to be seen.

“I thought you were scared,” I tease, slightly breathless at the sight of him. When was the last time we made love? The other night, we sloppily kissed each other and then passed out. It was in his apartment, a week ago. Maybe longer. Time’s a construct, and right now it feels like it has been an eternity since I’ve felt his weight pressing me into the sheets.

“I am. That’s why I’m waiting under all these lights.” He points upward to the LED panels in the ceiling.

I don’t look. I’m too busy staring at his body and the way his toned figure is still obvious beneath the white work shirt and the slim-fit pants. He has the perfect shape for a man, all wide shoulders and slim hips. His arm falls to his side.

“Hara?” he husks out.

My eyes jerk upward to see his dark brown eyes turn black. Heat skates up my spine. I don’t know if I fall into him or he pulls me close, but before my heart beats once more, I am flush against him. His erection presses into my stomach; his mouth slams against mine.

“Bathroom. Closet. Desk,” I gasp against his lips.

He laughs and it fills me with so much joy. He backs me down the hall, pausing only to swipe his badge against the security panel. We fall into the bathroom and tear at each other’s clothes. I hear a button ping against the tile, but I don’t know if it comes from his shirt or my pants and neither do I care. My hands are on his chest, sliding over his shoulders. His palms cup my ass and boost me onto the sink. The cold steel should have sent a shiver up my spine, but I only feel his hands stroking my back and his lips kissing their way down my neck. There’s only the heat of his mouth, the way his fingers tug on my blouse, the scrape of evening stubble against my sensitive skin.

I run my hands up his bare chest, skimming over the hard slabs of muscle, reaching his neck and pulling him back to my lips for a deeper, longer, sexier kiss. While our tongues are busy, our hands are busier. Shirts come off, pants are unzipped, underwear is pushed away, or—in my case—torn at the side. I hated this pair anyway.

He dips lower, tracing a warm trail down the column of my neck, pausing to pay sweet attention to my breasts, and then leaving me breathless as he pushes my thighs apart. I close my eyes and lean back against the mirror. Blood pounds in my ears and in other, sensitive places. My toes curl and my body shakes as the sensations roar over me. He rises to his full height and surges inside. Every node of my being is electrified. I’m on fire, on the edge of an explosion. I grip him fiercely, clutching him to me as if I don’t hold him tight enough I’ll lose him. I am greedy, like the oldest brother, but I will not let the goblins win.

With a harsh groan and thrust, he spends his last bit of energy and slumps his heavy body into mine. I wrap my arms around him and run my hands over his sweat-slicked shoulder blades, over the bumps of his spine. I am not with Yujun because he’s the first man to pay attention to me, the first one to say he loves me. I’m with him because the sun is brighter when he’s in its rays, the food is tastier when he’s at the table, the laughter is richer when he’s telling the joke. Being with him makes me happy. That’s why I am with him.

He plants a tender kiss on the side of my neck before straightening. “You okay?”

His fingers brush a lump of hair away from my face. I am a mess, but I don’t care.

“Yes. Wonderful.”

A smug smile stretches across his face, but I’m not irritated. He helped me achieve a spectacular orgasm, so he’s entitled. I wriggle off the counter and start looking for my clothes. Yujun scoops up my pants and shirt and helps me dress. It’s an odd but weirdly thrilling experience having him button me up. I return the favor. It feels wifely.