It was dark when Alana got home. She kicked off her heels as she entered the house, a bag of groceries in her arms. A fluffy ginger cat raced to greet her and rubbed her ankles furiously, nearly tripping her up in the process.
“Okay, Cyrus. I’ll feed you in a minute,” Alana said, setting the groceries on the counter. She began unpacking the perishable items and stowing them in the refrigerator, which was bare save for beer, an assortment of cheeses, a carton of milk, and something green that had once been edible. She fished out the last item with a wrinkled nose, disposing of it in the bin.
With the groceries put away, or at least away as they ever got—she rarely had the patience to put away the dry goods—Alana turned to the cat. She filled his bowl, stroking his back a few times as he tucked into his food.
Only then did Alana pay mind to her rumbling stomach. Lunch was a distant memory, and really she just felt like ordering in. But she forced herself to cook at least once a week. She looked down at the ravioli she had bought, scanning the directions before she put a pot of water on to boil.
While she waited, Alana pulled out a hardcover book from her briefcase. The cover depicted an illustrated cityscape, identified as Washington, D.C., by the inclusion of the White House. A key also adorned the cover, alongside the bold letters recording the author’s name as Dan Brown. She opened the book to the marked page, quickly becoming absorbed in the actions of the hero, Robert Langdon, as he tried to uncover the secrets of a cathedral using Masonic principles.
Alana had reached a particularly gripping passage—the kidnapping of Langdon’s offsider, the heroine—when she heard the hiss of the water boiling over from the saucepan.
“Fuck!” She cast the book aside and turned down the stovetop. Once Alana was satisfied that the kitchen wasn’t going to burn down, she added the ravioli to the pot and set a timer, following the directions on the packet.
Alana glanced over at her book. She couldn’t risk getting engrossed again. So she cracked a beer and watched the steam rising from the pan.
Now she was free from the burdens of her job for the day she let her mind wander. It had been a routine day with the exception of meeting the enigmatic Dr. Williams. She wondered if he’d mind if she called him Hugh.
Not for the first time Alana wished she knew more about literature so she could better participate in conversation with the young professor. It was a problem she frequently encountered with her father, himself a retired English lecturer.
It wasn’t that Alana didn’t read. Far from it. It was just that the thrilling best sellers she used to escape from her relatively lonely existence were not considered literary enough for serious study or critique.
The timer buzzed, snapping her out of her reverie. Alana served the pasta with a simple bottled pesto. Despite its simplicity, the food tasted more satisfying to her for the effort she had put in.
After dinner Alana washed up and then set about her nightly ritual of cleaning and preparing her percolator for the morning. She was decidedly not a morning person, and having everything ready at the push of a button was a great advantage to her at 6 a.m. The most essential task done, she turned out the kitchen light and headed into the bedroom.
Her bed dominated the spacious room, its deep cherry wood and cast iron decidedly masculine when coupled with the dark-gray sheets and herringbone quilt. Alana cast her smartphone and novel onto the foot of the bed and went into the walk-in wardrobe.
It was neither tidy nor a disaster. Most of her clothing was black, white, and red or had an eye-catching but corporate-appropriate print. She favored skirts and dresses over trousers and had a large pile of stiletto and sensible heels in various colors.
Alana carefully hung her black tailored skirt with her other bottoms and put her blouse in the laundry hamper. Next, she removed her nude push-up bra and stowed it in a wire drawer filled with other examples of sexy but practical underwear. Last, she removed her pantyhose and full-brief underwear.
She crossed the short distance from the closet to her en suite, unashamed of her nudity. First, she gathered the waves of her long, dark hair into a messy bun and then set about removing the remains of her makeup. Alana was quite minimalistic when it came to adorning her face—usually, a thin layer of foundation, a lick of mascara, and a smear of red lipstick were all she bothered with.
After she’d donned a shower cap, Alana stepped under the steaming spray. She let the water wash away the stress of the day, in preparation for doing it all again tomorrow. If she could just keep on keeping on, she knew the dean’s job would be hers someday.
Despite their dogged focus on getting everything done as soon possible, the holiday crowds meant Markus and Alana spent more than an hour in the supermarket. As they waited for the cashier to ring up their groceries, Markus rested his hand on the small of Alana’s back, stirring the desire that had settled in her blood.
They drove wordlessly back to Alana’s home, and she unlocked the door while Markus fetched their purchases. Alana removed her coat and set about putting away the perishables. Markus chuckled and kissed Alana on the ear from behind as she maneuvered the bird into the produce drawer.
“Didn’t your family ever live on the Christmas leftovers until New Year?”
“I guess,” Alana replied, more than a little distracted by Markus’s hot breath on her ear. “Are you going to help me?”
Markus placed his hands on Alana’s hip bones and pulled her back against him so she could feel his erection. “Are all the cold things put away?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.
Alana nodded, turned slowly in Markus’s arms, and kissed him.
He deepened the kiss impatiently, hooking his arms underneath Alana’s buttocks and lifting her so she was straddling his crotch. Alana moaned deep into his mouth, grinding against him. Markus set her on one of the counters that wasn’t littered with grocery bags. He unzipped her boots, pulling them unceremoniously from her feet before he unbuttoned her jeans, pulling them out of the way just as swiftly.
“Damn this weather!” He chuckled, returning to kiss her and moaning as Alana worked on his trousers.
She sighed as Markus slipped a hand into her underwear, finding her slick and ready after the afternoon of teasing and interruptions. Alana rolled her hips gently against Markus’s hand, biting her lip as he glided his fingers over her swollen clitoris. She pulled his mouth to hers again and wrapped her legs tight around Markus so his cock rubbed along her slit.
Alana hissed, somehow having the presence of mind to pull down Markus’s underwear. He mirrored her action, dropping her panties on the counter beside them. As Alana kissed him, he pushed his cock inside her, sighing at the slick heat enfolding him. He kept his mouth on Alana’s as he thrust inside of her, kisses growing rough and punctuated with groans as he fucked her.
Alana kissed Markus breathlessly. She needed him to be closer than her own skin. She whimpered against his mouth as he sent her hurtling toward orgasm, pawing at his back with her fingernails.
Eventually, he broke the kiss to catch his breath, grabbing Alana by the hips and pounding mercilessly inside of her. He found her neck, nipping at the skin as she climaxed. The rolling of her vaginal muscles sent Markus over the edge with a loud groan.
Alana and Markus held each other for a moment, trembling as endorphins flooded their bodies. They were reluctant to part, but Markus was trapped with his shoes on and his jeans and underwear bunched around his ankles. He planted kisses along Alana’s neck before he kissed her, withdrawing his spent cock from her with a low groan. She whimpered softly at the loss, arching her hips toward him.
Once Markus had gotten dressed again, he helped Alana off the counter. “Let me put the rest of this stuff away.” He smiled tenderly. “Why don’t I meet you in the bedroom in ten minutes.”
Alana nodded, leaning up for a kiss before she left the kitchen. Once she entered the bedroom she lay on top of the covers.
Markus joined her a few minutes later, leaning against the door frame with a smile on his face. She returned the smile, reaching out a hand to him. He came and sat beside her, allowing her to hover over his lap while she unbuttoned his shirt, planting soft kisses down his torso. There was a reverence in her touch as she unbuckled his belt and stripped away his trousers, pausing to tug off his shoes.
Once Markus was naked, Alana pulled him down atop her, pressing her body up against him. He kissed her lazily. His body had not yet recovered from their recent lovemaking, but he was still eager to express his desire. Markus planted kisses down the length of Alana’s body, from forehead to toes, pausing on the way to suckle expertly at her breasts. She drank up the touch, still as on fire for him as she had been before their encounter in the kitchen.
Markus savored the sound of Alana’s soft whimpers, returning his mouth to her core and kissing it with a wet, open mouth. She tasted musky and sweet, her cunt still dripping with arousal. He cupped her buttocks, laving her slit and swirling his tongue around her clitoris as she rolled her hips against him. He struggled to maintain an even pressure and pace as she writhed. Eventually, Alana found release with a series of fevered cries. Markus dipped his tongue inside Alana, slurping up as much of her juices as he could. Finally, he rolled over onto his side, tugging gently on Alana’s pubic hair as he caught his breath. Alana reached down and stroked his hair.