He helped her, simultaneously yanking her jeans down and off with a foot and fumbling in a pocket for the ever-present condom.
Once it was on, he didn’t even bother to remove her knickers but simply shoved them aside and entered her quickly and cleanly, gasping as he reached the hilt.
Lydia moaned and clung on to him, lips still locked on to his, legs wrapped tight around his hips.
He moved seamlessly into a fast rhythm. Lydia leant back so that he bent over her, the angle inviting more and more friction while his belt jingled and their skin slapped together.
Rough animal grunts jerked from his mouth to hers in time with his thrusts. Her fingers pinched and nails dug in while she used her body to grip him hard and lock him into her. She wanted to be flooded with him, part of him, belonging to him.
She chewed on his lips and he returned the gesture, teeth clashing, skin beginning to slide, clothes beginning to cling, steam beginning to rise. She stiffened, feeling the stirrings of orgasm, fingers flexing, tiny anguished yelps smothered by his domineering mouth.
He worked her through her climax, keeping her held fast while sensation ripped its way through her, then he sped into his own, finally breaking the kiss to roar into the crook of her neck, fanning hot breath beneath her ear.
Despite her trembling, she managed to hang on to him, taking great lungfuls of his scent until her breathing settled.
“I love you,” he said.
“Oh God, I love you, so much,” she blurted, on the verge of tears.
“But we have to rehearse.” He kissed her neck. “Come on. Let’s get dressed.”
As he stepped away from her, to pick up her jeans with one hand while the other dealt with the condom, Lydia caught a movement from the door at the top left of the auditorium.
She put a hand over her mouth in horror, hiding her indecency with the jeans Milan had just handed her.
Standing in a pose of absolute shock at the far end of the hall was Mary-Ann.
“Oh, God! Sorry!”
With those words, Mary-Ann turned and fled.
“Fuck!” exclaimed Lydia. “Fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck. What are we going to do?”
Milan finished buttoning up his trousers and shrugged, one eyebrow raised.
“Why does it matter? This could be our last day with the WSO. Tomorrow we quit.”
“No, but…Mary-Ann. I’ve lied to her, deceived her. About us. I feel so guilty. And about Evgeny. Oh, shit. What have we done?”
“Mary-Ann will survive.”
“But she…just now…she said she liked me. As more than a friend.”
Milan’s look of rueful amusement irritated Lydia.
“It’s serious, Milan. People’s hearts are serious.”
“Okay, okay. You didn’t ask her to fancy you, did you?”
“No, but I feel like I’ve been toying with her. Playing with her feelings. I feel like a bad person. You make me into a bad person.”
“Come on now!”
“You do! I never used to be like this, ruining people’s love lives left, right and centre. I used to be nice.”
“You’re still nice—” Milan reached out for her, but she snatched her arm away.
“I’m a bitch, sneaking around behind people’s backs. And so are you.”