Gilded Obsession

EXPLOSION

The day hadn’t started well for Albert. His analysis of a trade setup on the AUD/USD pair hadn’t played out as he’d hoped, costing him fifty-two thousand dollars that morning. The loss stung, not because it was crippling, but because it was unnecessary. He should have seen it coming.

Still licking his wounds and contemplating Lucilla’s offer—and the uncomfortable feeling of being caught in a pincer that it came with—he was pulled from his thoughts by the chime of the doorbell. He glanced at the security monitor. Marcia.

He buzzed her in.

“I’m not expecting you, Marcia,” he said as he opened the door.

“Good afternoon to you too, sir,” she said, stepping inside with a smirk.

"Albert frowned, giving her a quick once-over as she stepped inside. Her long red hair draped across her chest, and as she moved, he caught a whiff of lavender-infused musk."

“Your grandmother sent me. You’re supposed to sign these, make copies, and I’m to leave with the originals,” she said, extending a brown envelope.

“Why did she send you? No dispatches available?” he asked, reaching out to take the envelope from her.

“I had a bank run to make at Chase, so I offered to save her some money,” she said with a shrug.

“Have a seat,” he said, already flipping through the documents as he walked toward the center of the living room.

“Thank you. And may I please have some water?”

“Yeah, help yourself,” Albert said, motioning toward the kitchen.

“Cool apartment,” she noted, grabbing a bottle of Evian from the double-door refrigerator.

She ran a finger along the trackpad of Albert’s laptop, which was resting on the marble island. The screen illuminated, revealing a forex chart. She had always been intrigued by the complex lines and numbers, though she only understood the basics: buying low, selling high. The deeper intricacies eluded her. But she wanted to learn, not from some random YouTube course, but from someone who actually made money—someone with real losses and real wins. Albert seemed like just the guy. She could see his trade history from that morning. Oof. He had taken quite a hit. But her gaze shifted to his balance—whoa. He was more than fine. The loss stung, sure, but he had quite a cushion. And even with that setback, his week-to-date net profit was still impressive.

Albert walked back into the room, and for the first time since arriving, she let herself really look at him. He was built. His shoulders were broad and square, his triceps more pronounced than his biceps, his chest and upper body tapering into a trim waist. He was wearing blue sweatpants and a white vest, effortlessly exuding an energy that she had barely stopped thinking about since their brief flirtation last weekend at that w***e cousin of his, Clarice’s birthday party. When his grandmother had mentioned needing a courier for these papers, she had conveniently inserted herself into the errand.

She had flirted with him for fun. Why not? He was desirable. But now, alone in his apartment, she wondered if she would let things go a little further. Maybe she’d let him touch her. Maybe more.

“All good. Here are the original copies,” Albert said, handing the documents to Marcia.

"His voice was smooth, rich. Was that deliberate? An invitation? She stepped closer, taking the papers from his hand before slowly walking to her bag. Bending fully, her already short skirt rose even higher as she tucked the papers inside."

“Bad day at the markets?” she asked, nodding toward his laptop.

He merely looked at her, one eyebrow raising slightly. “It’s rude to snoop around.”

“I saw your balance, though,” she said with a knowing smile. “Looks like you know what you’re doing. You’ll be alright.”

“Will I?”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, biting her lip, now less than a foot away from him. Her voice softened, deliberately sultry. “Maybe you could teach me how to trade. But at your level of expertise, I doubt I can afford to pay you.”

Albert knew what this was. He had options, clear as day. Decency dictated that he spare at least a thought for Lucilla. There. Done. He was decent. Now, back to the matter at hand. Here was an opportunity to satisfy a lingering curiosity. He could only speak to his own desires, but hers seemed just as evident. She didn’t have to deliver these documents herself. A courier would have sufficed. If not that, there was at least one estate driver who could have run the errand. But she was here. And he needed to hear her say it.

“Hmm,” Albert hummed.

She was close enough that he could see down her shirt, where perfectly round breasts peaked from beneath the loose fabric. No bra. And from the subtle swell at the front of her satin blouse, her n*****s had stiffened.

“Perhaps you should look elsewhere for a tutor, then,” he said coolly.

“No, sir. I want you.”

Her tone left no room for ambiguity. Neither did her eyes. But Albert still wanted more. Her breathing deepened as the tension in the room thickened, her body growing restless as the moment stretched unfulfilled.

Then, in a swift, decisive motion, she reached up and kissed him full on the lips.

Albert responded immediately, one hand gliding up to lightly grip her throat, the other engulfing her backside. Her ass was softer than he imagined, fitting perfectly in his palm. She gasped into his mouth, and their tongues tangled in a messy, hungry rhythm. One of her hands slid downward, finding his growing arousal through the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

Their mouths moved together with urgency—this was not mere kissing, but a frenzied thrashing of lips, tongues, and teeth. His grip on her tightened, pulling her against him, and she whimpered against his mouth.

She wanted this.

And he was going to give it to her.

There was a uniqueness to her moans—something raw, primal—that sent Albert into a frenzy. With one hand, he lifted her onto the marble island, as she eagerly jumped up to aid his effort. In a swift, reckless motion, he swept his free hand across the surface, sending papers and his laptop crashing onto the tiled floor. Their mouths clashed violently, tongues tangling with desperate hunger. As he parted her legs, she hiked up her scandalously short skirt, frantic. His fingers found her, and she was soaking.

Stunned, he broke away from their thrashing kiss, gasping at the realization. His arousal was overwhelming. He plunged his fingers deeper, and she clutched his shoulders, her half-lidded eyes caught in that exquisite place between pleasure and oblivion. He had never felt passion like this—hadn’t even entered her yet. He returned to their fevered kissing, a sliver of rationality whispering about the dangers of injury, but he ignored it. They were animals now.

As if guided by instinct, he lifted her off the countertop and bent her over it. She moaned sweetly, arching her back, surrendering. His fingers worked feverishly inside her, her cries so loud and frenzied that he knew the neighbors—maybe even passersby—could hear. He almost worried someone might come knocking. Almost. Her golden skin glowed under the light, her ass a perfect vision. He withdrew his fingers and smacked it, then leaned in, pressing his lips against the curve, nipping playfully before gripping her cheeks with both hands.

He turned her back to face him, setting her onto the marble once more before dropping to his knees. The moment his tongue met her, she fisted his hair, yanking so hard he had to tap her arm in silent plea to ease her grip. He worked her with ruthless precision—lapping, flicking, teasing her c**t until she was a trembling mess. Her thighs quivered, her moans turning into breathless gasps. He felt her guide his hand to her breast, and he squeezed, reveling in the way her body reacted.

“I’m coming,” she groaned, her voice breaking.

She shrieked, pushed his head away just in time before her release sprayed across the tiled floor. They both collapsed into ragged breathing, taking a moment to recover. Then, without hesitation, she slid down from the countertop, onto her knees—but within seconds, she adjusted to a squat, spreading her thighs.

“Your turn,” she murmured, her voice sultry, taunting.

She yanked his pants down and took him in her mouth, wasting no time. Her movements were deliberate, each flick of her tongue and stroke of her lips executed with skill. Again, she guided his hand to her breasts—her gaze locking onto his, dark and dripping with seduction. He looked down, taking in the redness of her n*****s, the hunger in her eyes. Had he been starving for her all this time? Or had he truly never experienced anything like this?

It was everything. The way her tongue worked the most sensitive spot beneath the tip. The way she looked at him—at his c**k—like she worshiped it. The way she alternated between fondling his balls, teasing her own c**t, squeezing her breast, making a masterpiece of her own pleasure. His mind blurred, his senses overloaded. He was present but not—transported somewhere beyond the limits of his body.

She gagged but didn’t stop, only pausing briefly to catch her breath before taking him even deeper. Her fervor heightened, her thighs trembling again. Then, without warning, she squirted—again—this time drenching the floor beneath her. But she didn’t miss a beat, didn’t falter.

Albert groaned, his hips jerking as her pace intensified. She moved one hand to grip his ass for leverage, hollowing her cheeks as she sucked him in deeper. A new flick of her tongue sent his knees buckling—he had to steady himself against the marble. His release built, unstoppable, rushing toward its peak. He reached for her breast again, squeezing, craving more—more of her, more of this.

She sensed it, adjusted her pace with perfect precision, driving him to the edge with expert control. He gritted his teeth, let out a strangled groan, and then—he shattered.

She took it all, swallowing every drop, stumbling back onto her heels from the force of it. But Albert caught her by the back of the head, steadying her as she held onto his ass, both of them working in sync. Not a single drop was wasted.

She rose to her feet, licking her lips, eyes gleaming with wicked satisfaction.

Albert exhaled heavily, staring at her. He knew—knew with certainty—that if he ever wanted to resist her, it might require an exorcism. Because something had been awakened inside him. And from the look on her face, she knew it too.

“So then,” she purred, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Will you teach it to me?”

Albert glanced at the mess on the floor—past her juices, the scattered papers, to where his laptop lay, screen cracked and destroyed.

“I think I’m gonna need a new laptop first,” he muttered.

She smirked. “Best hurry and get one, then.”

Adjusting her blouse and smoothing her skirt, she strolled toward the living room, grabbing her bag.

“I wouldn’t want your grandmother waiting on me.”

Albert’s expression darkened. “You know you can’t work at the estate anymore.”

She turned, amusement curling at the corner of her lips. “What do you mean?”

“You know damn well what I mean.”

She tilted her head, pretending to think. “Well then, what shall I do for work?”

“You’ll work for me,” Albert said. “I’ll double your wages.”

She arched a brow. “Triple it.”

“Done.”

She laughed. “I’m afraid I’ll have to pass on your offer. I like working for your grandmother. And I particularly like working at the estate. Plus, you’ll want to control me, and I will resist you completely. It can’t work”, she declared.

Albert exhaled, rubbing his jaw. “We’ll talk about this later.”

“I guess we will.” She reached for the door handle, glancing over her shoulder with a wicked smirk. “And clean up properly, won’t you? It’s only fun if this stays between us.”

She winked. Then, she was gone.