Gilded Obsession

BREAKING

The apartment was quiet save for the sharp gasp that broke the stillness. A desperate, breathless sound, torn from Lucilla’s lips as Albert pressed her against the cool surface of the windowpane. His hands were firm, possessive, his mouth trailing a searing path down her throat. The city lights outside flickered, neon reflections catching in the glass, but Albert wasn’t looking at the view. He was looking at her—eyes half-lidded, lips parted, chest rising and falling in quick succession. There was something primal in the way he held her, something she hadn’t felt from him before, and it sent a delicious shiver down her spine.

Lucilla tilted her head back, exposing the delicate column of her throat, inviting him to take what he wanted. And he did. His mouth captured hers in a deep, searching kiss, swallowing her soft moans as his hands moved with purpose, fingers tracing the curve of her waist before gripping her thighs and moving on to her soft buttocks. He lifted her effortlessly. Dripping wet, she melted into him, immersed, bonded, her legs wrapping around his torso, the heat between them a tangible thing, thick in the air, almost suffocating. He carried her, slow and deliberate, from the window to the couch, his movements unhurried yet steamed with intent.

The couch cushions dipped beneath their weight as he laid her down, looming over her. For a moment, he simply stared, dark eyes sweeping over her flushed face, the swell of her lips, the way her breath came in shallow pants.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, voice rough with emotion, with need.

He turned her over, drinking in the spectacle of her exposed glute, the exquisite curve of her hips. The view sent a pulse of heat straight to his core. He parted her thighs with measured urgency, his fingers finding her with relentless precision. He would savor the site of her beautiful behind. She had no idea what it did to him. She looked back, arched against him, raising her hips and thighs, pushing back into his thrusting fingers, two fingers, three, four, his movements deliberate, knowing.

‘’Oh baaaaabe’’ she moaned, her moans spiraling into something desperate. Barely able to think.

She was wild, possessed with ecstasy, writhing with pleasure. Her cries filled the space, her entire body trembling as he played her expertly. Then, in one swift movement, he withdrew his fingers and thrust into her with his erect p***s, making sure to grab her gently enough by the neck, his free hand on the softness of her left butt cheek, as he intermittently shifted his gaze to its magnificence, letting the vision sustain his fervor. As he felt himself reaching a climax, he steadied his breathing. He turned her onto her back, wanting to look into her eyes.

Lucilla smiled, still visibly shaking, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair, pulling him down into another kiss. Their kisses were softer now, slower, filled with something dangerously close to tenderness. His hands roamed her body with reverence, fingertips grazing sensitive skin, drawing sighs from her lips. He wasn’t rushing anymore. He was savoring. Like he wanted to remember every inch of her, every reaction, every sound she made.

Their bodies moved in sync, breathless, mingling, lost in each other, heat, want, and the evidence of something real. As the tempo of his thrusts quickened, she knew what was coming,

‘’I want you on my face she said, baby’’ she gasped ‘’on my face’’

He obliged, groaned, lifting himself, guiding the aim of his release squarely onto her flushed round face, spraying all over her features.

‘’Would you wait for me while I serve out a prison sentence?’’ she asked.

Albert frowned questioningly.

Outside, a car passed down the street, blaring its horn.

Her eyes fixed on the ceiling as she continued, ‘’I might murder a co-worker soon, but I’ll make it look like manslaughter’’

She looked at him. ‘’I’d get five to ten years, and I'd do less than five with good behavior. That’s not very long, right?’’

He was smiling, ‘’Is this your way of trying to make me an accessory before the fact’’

‘’Damn it!’’ she said sarcastically. ‘’Can’t get anything past you. But simply knowing about it doesn’t make you an accessory hon. But planning, even encouraging me would though.’’

‘’Hmm… seems’’ he paused, ‘’seems a bit off’’

‘’I know,’’ she said, ‘’makes you wonder just how civilized civilization is’’

‘’Is it Gretchen?’’ Albert asked.

‘’It’s Gretchen alright’’

‘’It’s always the Gretchens,’’ Albert said.

‘’And the Ingrids’’ Lucilla added.

They both laughed heartily.

‘’You know it’s my legal, civic, and moral obligation to report your ass to the police,’’ he said.

She scoffed, shaking her head lightly, turning onto her front side and shifting so that her buttocks wiggled in the warm glow of the fluorescent lighting overhead ‘’You could never report this ass babe. Never’’ she said with playful certainty. ‘’Seriously though, it’d actually be immoral if you reported me before I could do the deed, seeing as Gretchen's a f*****g banshee’’

More laughter

‘’I think you’d wait for me’’ she said, ‘’I’m fairly certain you would’’

‘’How come you’re so sure?’’ he asked.

‘’Oh, Albert,’’ she said, mock-squinting at him and lightly slapping him across his chest. ‘’ Well, besides the fact that you’re hopelessly in love with me.’’ More sarcasm.

‘’I think you’ll find it difficult to find another like me. I’m very aware of the qualities I possess that keep you kept’’

He looked at her for a moment, then said, ‘’And you think becoming a murderer wouldn’t destroy all that’’

She shrugged, then winked at him knowingly. ‘’Test, yes, destroy, no.’’

He smiled warmly at her--that confidence, falling into the realization of one of the qualities as it played at that moment. Moments like these, when she provided premium banter that often challenged not just his principles but the bedrock of scruples, performing it with a manner of ease and finesse he was certain not many could. He allowed himself to wonder if she was capable of murder, then it dawned on him that, knowing her, the entire line of questioning might have been a subtle warning to him. Because as he internally investigated her capability of premeditated murder, he arrived at the conclusion that she might possibly be capable in several circumstances, and defending him and what they shared was one of them.

She slipped her arms around his neck. He started to say something-- but she cut him off with a slow, lingering kiss.

The kiss was slow but deep, her hands sliding into his hair as she pressed herself against him. His grip tightened on her waist, pulling her flush against him, the smooth silk of her dress teasing against his skin. She tasted like bourbon and something distinctly her—familiar, intoxicating.

Albert walked her back toward the couch, their lips never parting, his hands roaming over the curves he had long memorized. They tumbled onto the cushions, Lucilla straddling him, her fingers working at the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with slow precision.

She pulled back slightly, her breath heavy. "I want to break this place in properly," she murmured, a sly glint in her eye.

Albert smirked, running a hand up her thigh. "Is that right?"

She answered by grinding against him, a soft gasp leaving her lips. That was all the encouragement he needed. He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her across the room. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he pressed her back against the floor-to-ceiling window, the cool glass a stark contrast to the heat building between them. She moaned softly as his lips trailed down her neck, his hands sliding up the back of her dress, bunching the fabric around her hips.

"Someone could see," she whispered, though her tone lacked any real concern.

"Then let's give them a show"

His lips captured hers again, hard and demanding, as he reached beneath her and pulled her lace panties aside. She gasped, nails digging into his shoulders as he pushed into her, a deep moan escaping her lips. Her head fell back against the glass, cracking it, her body arching into him as he moved, slow and deliberate at first, before giving in to the hunger.

Lucilla clung to him, her breaths ragged, her nails leaving faint scratches against his back. Their bodies moved in sync, each touch, each moan pushing them closer to the edge.

"Albert—" she breathed, tightening around him, her voice a broken plea.

He growled in response, gripping her ass, driving deeper until all that remained was heat and sensation.

The windowpane fogged with their breath; the rhythm of their movements lost in the quiet hum of the city outside. And then, as the tension reached its breaking point, Lucilla shuddered, her body clenching around him as she cried out his name. He followed soon after, a deep groan against the curve of her neck, his body trembling with release.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, tangled together, breathless, Lucilla’s forehead pressed against his shoulder. Then, with a satisfied hum, she pressed a lazy kiss to his jaw. "That’s one way to christen the apartment."

Albert exhaled a laugh, still catching his breath. "We’re not done yet."

She smirked; her eyes gleaming with challenge. "Oh?"

He carried her to the kitchen, setting her down on the cool marble island. Lucilla spread her legs, pulling him closer with her heels digging into his waist. He wasted no time, claiming her again with renewed urgency, her moans echoing in the dimly lit space.

By the time they collapsed onto the couch again, bodies sated and limbs tangled, the night had deepened, and the apartment no longer felt quite so empty.

“This place suits you,” she murmured, setting the glass down and walking toward the window. The city lights cast a glow against the glass, reflecting back at her, her back to him. She knew exactly what she was doing, fully aware of the possessive effect her ass had on Albert.

‘’Remember my old place in Bridgeport? "I think it was a thirty - minute drive from your old spot in Stamford’’ she mused, pausing before flashing a knowing smile ‘’Well, thirty for you -about fifty for a normal person’’.

He chuckled. Her dry wit was one of the things that intrigued him. It endeared her to him. He always thought eighty percent of her charm came from her confidence-the kind that allowed her to make jokes that half sounded like compliments and comments that half sounded like jokes. The other twenty percent came from her knowledge of where the rest of her charm came from. He admired her, she was interesting, and he liked that she knew by exactly how much. More importantly, Albert was certain she appreciated the prestige of always playing precisely within the bounds of that measure, and that was the other twenty percent.

‘’Mm’’ Albert hummed, watching her naked body and the reflection it cast in the glass. ‘’Maybe fifty for a grandpa driving a bucket. Then you went and moved all the way to another state and stretched that commute to another forty minutes-- on a traffic-free day.’’

She laughed dryly. ‘’ More like eighty minutes for a sane person’’ she quipped, moving to pick up her glass, ‘’And it wasn’t another state, it was just… farther’’

‘’ It sure felt like you moved to another state. I actually made that drive in just under fifty minutes once’’ Albert said, candidly.

‘’From Stamford?’’ she asked, genuinely surprised, her eyes widening.

He nodded.

‘’Jesus!’’ she shook her head, raising the glass to her lips.

‘’I think I left my place around five a.m. that morning. I’m sure the sun hadn’t even come up yet. I got there at around five-fifty’’

‘’Well…. My place is much closer now’’ she murmured.

And not just because of the way she said it, Albert knew she meant more than just proximity.

She strode over to him, the elegance in her movements undeniable. His woman, he thought, feeling a sense of pride.

‘’So… Mr. Flash,’’ she teased, settling astride his groin area, the inside of her knees pressing against his hips. ‘’How fast do you want me to go?’’

Albert smiled, ‘’Shock me.’’

“Yeah?” she whispered, a teasing smirk playing on her lips as her hips began to move.

The familiarity of the warmth of her body against his inflamed his every neuron and every sensory cell. The sweet, familiar gourmand scent of her perfume seemed like his only tether to reality. And maybe, in a way, it was. He let his hands find her waist, his fingers pressing lightly into the fabric of her silk nightgown.

He sat up and kissed her deeply, feeling the slow burn of whiskey mingling with the taste of her lips. She sighed into his mouth, fingers threading into his hair as she pressed closer. It wasn’t desperate or hurried; it was something else-- a claiming. A reminder.

He lifted her effortlessly, laying her onto the couch without breaking contact. She arched beneath him, her breath hitching as his lips moved to her neck, leaving a heated trail against her skin. His hands slid under her, fingers skimming her thighs, sending a shiver through her body.

“Albert,” she breathed, her voice laced with something between need and certainty.

He pulled back, just enough to look at her. Her pupils were blown wide, lips parted, waiting. He felt something stir inside him—something he couldn’t quite name. Maybe it was hunger. Control? His desire for her was real, but suddenly, beneath it, an intrusive thought surfaced. Marcia. A sharper, deeper craving, unbidden yet undeniable. But he forced it down, re-channeling the heat surging through him. He wouldn’t be caught out.

He pulled her up suddenly, turning her so she faced the window. She gasped, not from fear, but from surprise. He had never taken her like this before, never held her like this. His grip was firm, steady, his body pressing against hers as he let his fingers slide into her hair. Then, without thinking, he tugged, just enough to make her breath hitch.

His other hand slipped lower, fingertips teasing over her wet c**t with slow, deliberate pressure.

‘’Ah---’’

A small, startled moan escaped her lips, her breath catching at the unexpected sensation. She turned her head slightly, trying to meet his gaze.

The night stretched on, their bodies entangled, their touches lingering. Between whispered words and languid caresses, Lucilla saw glimpses of something in Albert she hadn’t before—a certain unpredictability, a quiet storm beneath his otherwise controlled demeanor. It thrilled her, made her want to pull him closer, to uncover more. And yet, even as he held her, even as he murmured her name like it meant something, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he wasn’t fully there.

That somewhere, deep in the corners of his mind, he was miles away.