The sharp edge of the dresser bit a line into her ass and palms as Abby wrapped up her report.  Saul sat on the bed in front of her, elbows on his thighs, hands clasped between his knees.  Eyes as dark and readable as the night sky.  His thick, inky brows pulled together, drawing stacks of lines between them.

Thunder rattled the motel window behind the curtains.  Rain splattering the pavement just outside grew loud enough for her to glance at the thin white towel bunched over the cracks in the bottom of the door.  Still there.

“How’s your situation feel?”  Saul’s voice elevated a degree louder than the rain.

She looked back at him, one half of his body haloed with amber light from across the room. 

He’d asked her that every time they met.  Reading, always reading her.  But now…was there something more in his stare?

Exhaling through her nose, Abby crossed her arms and assessed him.  Nothing in his face, breathing, or body language changed.  Never did.

She pursed her lips.  Looked down at the battered mauve quilt covering the bed and measured her words.  “The past couple days have been off.  I can’t put my finger on it.  Shanti’s been on the phone constantly.  Copper’s distracted.  The guys are always in the backroom.  Something’s about to go down but I’m in the fucking dark.”

“Are you safe?”

Raising a brow, she met his gaze again.  “I’ve been undercover for months, trying to get a fucking gang to bring me in further.  Am I supposed to feel safe, Saul?”

The side of his mouth quirked, breaking their strained thread of professionalism.  It disappeared as quickly as it came.  He stood.  “Fine.  You’ll get in touch with me immediately if I should pull you.”

“Sure.”  Her voice was monotone.

“You will immediately fucking tell me.”  His voice was demanding but soft, treading on dangerous.

A slip from the calculating calm he was revered for. She stared at him.

And then she knew. 

He’d lost someone once, some time in his life or career he’d probably never spoken about.  All that watchfulness, that great mind always thinking ahead.  Always protective of his staff, his snitches, his information.

She felt like she couldn’t exhale, the realization sinking into her marrow.  Seeing his levels.  Feelings.  Cracks in his facade.

“How long were you undercover?” she asked softly.  “Did you ever really come out, or did you just become someone else?”

The falling silence crackled.  She felt more aware of her body, of his.  Of the mere two feet of distance between them.

“Careful,” he murmured.

A professional, or personal warning?

Both?

His gaze never shifted, but something about his eyes seemed less flat.  More like melted chocolate, drawing her in.

Abby pushed off the dresser, closing the space between them.  “It’s been a long time, Saul.  You know me.  You’re the only one now who does.  Who knows you?”

His mouth parted, chest continuing to rise and fall slowly.  Calmly.  Because it was him, because he was always still.  Always under control.

“We’re giving our lives to this job.  I wouldn’t change it for anything.  But don’t we deserve something too?  Every once in a while?”  She shifted her weight, felt her pussy lips slick. Heat built at the crux of her thighs.

He just watched her.  Slightest nostril flare.

“You’ve seen pictures of me dancing.  Tits out, ass out.  And now... no one knows where we are, what we’re really doing.”  Her tone was delicate.  She flattened a palm against his taut stomach, saw a breath hitch in his chest and smiled.  “Don’t tell me you didn’t see my tits through this thin little top tonight.  Don’t pretend you’ve never thought about this.”

He swallowed, but his eyes never left hers.

She let her hand drift lower, cupping the bulge at his crotch.  He wasn’t fully hard, but he wasn’t soft.  Or small.

“I’m in a position of power, Abby.”

“Are you?”  Molding her fingers to the outside of his shaft, she stroked, hand widening with his cock. “Seems like I’m the one with the power right now.”

Saul’s face broke into a smile, a vision of the man she’d never met.  “Apparently.”

Abby laughed.  “Yeah.  So kiss me.”

His hands slid along her jaw, fingers hooking under its curves. Coaxed her to move closer until her breasts pressed against his chest, his cock to her lower belly.  She slid her palms up his back.

He leaned down, lips featherlight on hers.  When she pressed further, he backed away.  Groaning, she took a breath to speak, and he trapped her mouth in his. Shifted his weight. His fingers snuck under her waistband, drawing a line down her abdomen and over her smooth mound.

Yes.  Digging her nails into his back, she gasped, sucking the air from his lips.  Needing his touch as much as she needed to live.

He slid through her folds until his fingers were slippery. She arced her hips, whimpering, begging with her body, and then he found her clit.

Abby’s knees buckled.

His hand circled her waist, tucking her into his side body as his turbulent fingers set the pace of her heartbeat.  Her lungs felt like they’d explode, her arms flailing, moans climbing.

Thunder rumbled the building.

“That’s it, Abby.  That’s it.”

“Fuck, Saul,” she whimpered, her hands flying, trying to hold on.  Slapped her hand on his forearm and fought the blinding light of orgasm to keep his gaze.  So patient, so still.  “Fuck!”

He pressed her clit with the length of his fingers. She pushed back hard, riding his touch, clit pulsing heat through her like an artery. As she tried to find her thoughts, her balance, he trailed his fingers through her slick slash, painting her pussy lips and inner thighs.

Smiling, she lightened her grip on his forearm and looked up at him. 

His eyes burned into hers.

“And here I thought you were a virgin,” she teased, tugging his shirt up.

That smile she’d seen only once returned, crinkling his eyes and lightening his face.  He pulled his shirt over his head, tossed it over the far bed.  “Funny.”

Abby ripped her shirt over her head, breasts bouncing free, and dropped it on the floor.  Toed off her sneakers, pushed down her sweats and kicked them aside, air conditioning meeting her overstimulated cunt.

"Slow down," he murmured.

She felt his hand on the back of her neck, drawing her to him until his forehead touched hers.  The tension in her body surrendered to his.  She shut her eyes.

His hands drifted over her neck, her clavicles.  She pushed her small breasts out, needing his touch, but felt a gentle squeeze at her shoulders.  His fingers flowed down her form, over the sides of her breasts, her hips, and circled her ass.

Stepping back, she opened her eyes, snatched his hands in hers, and glared at him.  “Quit fucking with me.”

A smirk teased the sides of his lips again.  “Wasn’t aware I was.”

“Take your pants off and sit on the bed.”

He held her gaze.  Unlatched his belt, his pants, and pushed his pants and boxers to the ground.  Bending over, he scooped them up.  Folded the pants once and tossed them on top of his shirt, standing naked in front of her.

“What should I do now, ma’am?”

Perfect.  It was perfect.  Long, thick.  Smooth flared head.  Tight, stout balls, promising her cum.

She licked her lips.  “Lie on your back on the bed behind you.”

He sat on the bed, lay down and twisted his body so his head hit the pillow and there was ample room on either side of him.  He grasped his dick, distractedly stroking as he watched her.

“I want to suck that perfect cock,” she said as she crawled onto the bed and threw a leg over him.  “But I need it inside me too much.”

He held his shaft as she lowered, prising her pussy lips open around him.  Stretching herself, impaling herself on him.  She felt the rest of his cockhead slide in, part of his shaft.  She rose up to the tip, sank back down, gradually opening herself up, his cock growing slick with her juice until she lowered all the way home.

They both groaned, his hands finding her tits and squeezing.

“Take what you need, Abby.”  His voice was harsh, broken.

Leaning over him, one hand on the bed and one over his on her tit, she fucked him slowly.  Pressed her cheek against his, her lips at his ear.  “What I want, Saul, is to suck your cock while I finger your ass, but I need to come so much more.”

“Which do you need more, control or to lose control?”

“What?”

“I think…” His hands slid to her hips and stilled her, only for him to plunge up inside her, knocking the wind from her lungs. “I think you’re tired of staying in control.  I think you need to feel safe enough to lose all control.”

“Oh fuck.”  She struggled to prop herself up on her hands as the world swirled.

“Which do you need, Abby?” he asked, his voice strained but soft, shallowly thrusting inside her.

She was weak, lost in cock, bewildered in the trapping of an orgasm and unable hold his gaze.  “Both. Fuck me, you smart motherfucker, but not another fucking word unless you talk dirty.”

Chuckling, his hands tightened at her hips and he rammed deep inside her.  Pulled out, fast, only to drive deep again.  “You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re beautiful.”

“Not dirty talk.”  She gasped.

“So warm and wet, so tight.”  Grunting, he slammed his cock into her.

“Yes!” Her elbow bent, and she nearly fell as he assailed her pussy, wet slaps punctuating the air. Moans and screams erupted from somewhere feral inside her, untamed, unbroken.

“Take it, baby.”  Harder, faster, wrecking her.  “So fucking good.  Do not fucking hold back for me, Abby. I’m gonna fill you with my cum.”

His arms curled under hers, hands cupped down on her shoulders, pummeling her with his cock, pushing her beyond everything she knew. 

The world went white. Shockwaves of heat assaulted her body, and she felt his cock jolt, exploding his cum deep inside her body. Her hips kept moving, needing to suck every drop from him, lose every drop of herself until she collapsed.

When she awoke, his arm was around her, her head on his chest.  He was playing with her hair, his eyes on the ceiling.  No expression.

The AC under the window hummed.

“What are you thinking about?” she whispered.

“Your life.”  His voice was soft.  Calm.

She tensed.  “Come again?”

“They’re having multiple business issues.  One of which, is Shanti stealing from them.  They don’t know who it is, but they know it’s close.  They don’t trust you, and you have to prove your worth.  Like Shanti did, but she doesn’t bring new girls or the money anymore.  They’re tired of looking at her.  That’s your in.”

Abby swallowed.  “I out her.”

“Her problem is coke.  You don’t have that problem.  They’ll see you as a better, younger fit.”

“What if they kill her?”

“Do you need to be pulled out?”

She swallowed.  “No.”

“Beginning today, your divorce is done.  Even without a husband showing up, they’d know it shouldn’t take longer than this.  Look for my message for the next rendezvous.”

“Okay.”

Tilting his head, he looked down at her.  Flicked her nipple, but it was his eyes that pulled her in.  Warm, sweet, as he clicked from crime to kind.  A friend.  Someone who cared for her.  The real her.

Her safe space.

“Remember,” he kissed her head, “if you need to take control again, it’s yours.”