Gemma lay smiling into Mac's eyes, then lifted up her head and kissed him softly. It was so delicious, she did it again. And again, again, brushing happy little kisses over his lips while his hands came up to cradle her head and hold her as he joined in. He deepened the kiss, tilting her back gently along the length of the desk until she was resting on the surface, cushioned by his palms, and he hitched himself up beside her, leaning over to kiss her intensely.
She slid her hands into his tawny hair, and raked them gently through the tousled locks as his tongue explored her mouth, his breathing beginning to deepen and roughen, the shimmer between them seeming to strengthen. Gemma sank into his kiss, breathing in the increasingly musky scent of his arousal, the sense of him all around her, cradling her to him, and a little sigh escaped her as the her limbs softened while her core tightened to his touch.
Her sigh was echoed from Mac's chest, and he lifted back slightly, nibbling her lower lip, running a light hand down the side of her chest and circling up, tracing a line between her breasts. Her breath hitched and her fingers stilled in his hair, she felt him smile against her lips as his hand circled down again, and then closed over her breast. He began to gently tease the sensitive skin, sending shimmers of sensation tingling down her spine, then abruptly he bent back over her to thrust his tongue deep into her mouth. A pulse of pleasure throbbed in Gemma's belly.
Breathing deeply, he gently withdrew, then thrust again, squeezing her breast and tweaking the nipple as his tongue invaded her throat. Gemma moaned into his mouth, feeling her heart pounding erratically as liquid heat began to seep between her thighs. Mac withdrew, and thrust again gently, deeply, squeezing the sensitive peak while he tilted her head to get the right angle. Then he parted her lips fully with his and began to slide and thrust his tongue deep within her throat, his breathing deepening as his own excitement grew.
Gemma could feel herself melting under his touch, melting into him, the tug at her heart easing and strengthening, as the demand in his kiss increased. He was kissing her as though there was no limit between them, no barriers, and her excitement seemed melded into his, no barriers, no separation, they were tuned together as he laid gentle, sure claim and she welcomed him in.
Then abruptly Mac lifted himself above her, and Gemma moaned and arched up to reach for him, pulling his head back down. He chuckled, and kissed her hard, but pulled back again, sliding off the surface of the desk, breathing deeply, tugging her after him. She landed swaying on her unsteady feet and slid her arms up his chest again, whimpering, to pull that tawny, proud head back down to hers. She moaned in satisfaction when he lifted her off her feet, kissing him deeply as her legs wrapping around his waist.
A hot, throbbing hardness pressed firmly against her slit as she tightened her legs, and a jolt of white lightening shot down Gemma's spine, shuddering through her limbs and shaking loose her tenuous thread of regained control as she fell back against his encircling hands, gasping for breath. She moaned again. Held herself steady, then gently rubbed against that jutting hard cock beneath his clothes. They both shuddered, and Mac hitched her a little higher, away, sliding her back so that her buttocks rested on his hardness instead.
With a frustrated little moan, Gemma struggled to shift against him, to press his throbbing erection back against the
right
place, then stopped abruptly as she realised they were out in the corridor, Mac pacing soundlessly towards the stairs. He murmured breathlessly into her ear, a thread of laughter to the hoarse sound, "Wait, my little picchu. We need a bit more room - and to find something for you to tie me to first."
She sucked in air abruptly as her heart stopped. Then it began to pound frantically against her ribs. They were really going to do this. Tie him up.
Shit.
She could feel his chest reverberating on a chuckle at her reaction, but all that emerged was an almost silent breath of sound, "And be quiet. The police are still downstairs."
Gemma pressed her forehead to his chest and clung to him, shuddering, as they silently ghosted their way up to the top storey and the greenhouse under the glass roof. As he carried her into the fragrant, damp warmth under the leaves and the heavy door shut behind them, she felt a little coil of tension in the body carrying her release. Mac breathed deeply, shutting his eyes, then opened them and the hot gleam smiling down at Gemma made her heart jump again. She reached up, pulled down his head and kissed that smile, deeper, deeper, as both of their hearts began to race, until she had to pull back, gasping short little breaths. Mac was trembling a little as he turned and began to brush his way past the overhanging leaves of the larger plants towards the outer wall, the dull orange light from the streetlights outside filtering through the large windows.
"Good," he grunted, setting her on her feet beside him. Gemma blinked and he wasn't there, then her eyes were caught by the shimmer of light on the tawny hair at her waist height; he had squatted down was reaching under the end bench. She leaned against him and caressed dreamy fingers through the ruffled locks, then bent over and nibbled his lips, upside-down, enjoying the way his breath hitched and his eyes glazed over slightly as he stilled, shuddering under her lips. Then he sighed and a hand came up to tangle in her hair, tugging her backwards then pushing her down to flop cross-legged on the floor half a foot away as he muttered, "Wait."
She giggled, and focussed on what he was doing - or undoing. Undoing one of the four huge bolts holding the metal roof column to the heavy cross-beam across the floor - with his fingers. Her first incredulity faded into awareness, tingling across her skin, as he pulled out the inch-thick metal bolt and instead threaded through the slim grey cord he had brought from downstairs. He looped it through a second time, while her breath shortened and began to get a little ragged. Then he turned to her with that wicked little hot smile playing around his lips and she felt her insides melt even as a huge lump formed in her throat.
"Now, Gemma," he murmured softly.
And she watched, slightly disbelieving, uncertain, incredulous, as he shucked off his shirt, lay down on the floor on his back and relaxed, wrists crossed above his head, smiling at her teasingly, challengingly.
She was staring back, wide-eyed, caught by that wicked black-and-green gaze, the knowing gleam in the depths. She swallowed.
"Come and tie me up," he said gently.
"Uh," Gemma managed a short little grunt, her eyes escaping from his, then they were caught by the expanse of his chest gleaming under the soft light. The ripple of muscles in his arms. The little scar on his chin, and the crease of his cheek from the little smile on his lips. Her eyes returned to his. She swallowed again.
"Won't it hurt you?"
His eyes softened on a smile, "Argen against the skin only constrains us, it doesn't do any damage. It'll stop me turning. Now please, Gem. At least come and kiss me."
Um.
His eyes had softened, and were beckoning her over.
