It Never Happened...Again!

**Note: For full context, please read my earlier story "It Never Happened" as this is a continuation of it **

The silence in the office was a living thing, a thick, heavy blanket of things unsaid. For three weeks, it had smothered the usual easy rhythm between their desks. Emails were clipped and formal. Conversations were strictly confined to client accounts and quarterly projections. They were a masterclass in professional avoidance.

So, when the memo came down about the Perth conference, a fresh, cold dread settled in Abe’s stomach. Another trip. Another hotel. Another opportunity for the carefully constructed walls to crumble.

He booked his own flight the moment the itinerary landed in his inbox, a pre-emptive strike against any suggestion of travelling together. He arrived at the gate early, his head buried in a financial report he was not reading and took a seat as far from the boarding queue as possible. He told himself it was about productivity. It was a lie.

He did not see her until she was already sitting down, two rows ahead and across the aisle. His breath hitched. She was wearing a simple navy-blue dress, her auburn curls tied up in a loose knot that left tendrils brushing the nape of her neck. He remembered the feel of those curls wrapped around his fingers, the scent of her shampoo. He forced his eyes back to his report, the numbers blurring into meaningless black dots.

The conference was a two-day affair, a whirlwind of keynote speeches and networking events. They were careful, orbiting each other like distant planets, always in the same gravitational field but never colliding. They spoke only, when necessary, their words polished and empty. But the current was still there, a low hum beneath every interaction. A brush of hands reaching for the same pitcher of water at lunch. The fleeting, electric eye contact during a dull presentation that said, I remember, too.

On the final evening, a formal gala was held in the hotel ballroom. Abe stood near the back, a glass of whisky in his hand, watching Nelly work the room. She was luminous, her laugh cutting through the murmur of conversation, her green dress shimmering under the chandeliers. He saw a man from a rival firm lean in a little too close, his hand resting on her arm, and a possessive heat flared in Abe’s chest, shocking in its intensity.

He was gone before the event officially ended, retreating to the sanctum of his room on the twelfth floor. He tossed his jacket on a chair, loosened his tie, and poured another drink from the minibar, trying to drown the image of that man’s hand on her. The silence of the room was oppressive. He jumped when his phone buzzed on the nightstand.

A single text. From her.

My room. 1215. Now.

It was not a question. It was a command. Every rational cell in his body screamed to delete it, to ignore it, to maintain the fragile peace they had built. But his body was already moving, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was out the door and down the hall before he could talk himself out of it.

He did not knock. He simply turned the handle, and the door was unlocked. She was standing by the window, the city lights of Perth glittering behind her like a scattered diamond necklace. She had already changed out of her gown and into a simple hotel robe, belted tightly at her waist.

The door clicked shut behind him.

For a long moment, they just looked at each other, the air crackling with the weight of every stifled glance and repressed memory of the past weeks.

“This is a bad idea,” Abe said, his voice rough.

“The worst,” Nelly agreed, her voice barely a whisper.

He took a step forward. Then another. He stopped an arm’s length away, close enough to see the rapid pulse beating at the base of her throat.

“We agreed. Melbourne was a mistake,” he said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.

“It was.” Her eyes were dark, pupils swallowing the green. “But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

That was all it took. The dam broke.

He closed the distance between them in one stride, his hands framing her face as his mouth crashed down on hers. This was not like the first time - a frantic, drunken collision of pent-up desire. This was deliberate. This was hungry. This was a continuation.

Her lips parted for him instantly, her tongue meeting his with a desperate intensity. Her hands came up, not to push him away, but to clutch at the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. The taste of her - wine and mint and pure Nelly - unravelled him completely.

He walked her backward until her knees hit the edge of the bed, and they tumbled onto it together in a tangle of limbs and ragged breath. He shrugged out of his shirt while she frantically worked the buckle of his belt, her fingers fumbling in their haste.

“I thought we could forget,” he growled against her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there, earning a sharp gasp. “I tried.”

“Liar,” she breathed, yanking his trousers down his hips. “I saw you watching me. Every day.”

He peeled her robe open, his breath catching at the sight of her. No lace this time, just simple, practical underwear that seemed impossibly erotic on her. He palmed her breast through the cotton, his thumb rubbing over her nipple until it pebbled into a hard peak. She arched into his touch, a low moan escaping her lips.

“That man,” Abe muttered, his mouth traveling down her sternum, over the soft curve of her stomach. “Touching you tonight. I wanted to break his hand.”

A breathy laugh escaped her. “Jealous, Watkins?”

“Possessive, Thompson,” he corrected, hooking his fingers in the waistband of her panties and pulling them down in one swift motion. “There’s a difference.”

He did not give her a chance to reply. He pushed her thighs apart and buried his face between them, his tongue finding her core with unerring accuracy. She cried out, her hands flying to his hair, gripping fistfuls as he licked and sucked, learning the rhythm that made her hips jerk off the mattress.

“Abe… God… please…” she begged, her words dissolving into incoherent gasps.

He revelled in it - in the taste of her, the sounds she made, the complete surrender of her body. He brought her to the edge with his mouth, feeling her muscles tighten, her breaths coming in short, sharp pants. Just as she was about to fall, he pulled away, surging up her body to claim her mouth again, letting her taste herself on his lips.

He fumbled for his wallet, retrieved a condom, and sheathed himself with hands that trembled slightly. He paused for a moment, hovering above her, looking into her eyes. The question was there, one last time.

Her answer was to hook her leg around his hip and pull him down, guiding him into her with a sure, desperate hand.

He slid home in one deep, devastating thrust. They both groaned, a unison sound of pure, unadulterated relief. It was even better than he remembered - tighter, hotter, a perfect, slick fit.

He set a slow, deep rhythm, wanting to savour it, to memorize the feel of her wrapped around him. But Nelly would have none of it. She met each thrust with one of her own, her nails scoring his back, her heels digging into his thighs.

“Faster,” she demanded, her voice raw. “Don’t be gentle. I don’t want gentle.”

He obeyed, slamming into her with a force that shook the bedframe, each drive punching a gasp from her lungs. The professional facade, the weeks of polite distance, were utterly incinerated in the raw, primal heat between them. This was no mistake. This was inevitable.

He could feel her climax building again, her inner muscles fluttering around him, her cries growing higher, more desperate. He reached between them, his thumb finding her clit, rubbing tight, frantic circles.

“Come for me, Nelly,” he commanded, his voice a guttural rasp in her ear. “Let me feel it.”

She shattered with a broken scream, her body convulsing around his, pulling his own orgasm from him with a force that stole his vision. He collapsed on top of her, spent, his face buried in the crook of her neck, their hearts hammering against each other in a frantic, synchronized rhythm. He felt her pussy muscles still convulsing around his rapidly deflating cock.

Long minutes passed. The only sound was their ragged breathing slowly returning to normal. The city lights continued to glitter outside, indifferent.

This time, it was Abe who broke the silence. He shifted his weight off her but pulled her tightly against his side, her head resting on his chest. He pressed a kiss into her hair.

“So,” he said, his voice still rough. “About that rule…”

Nelly traced idle patterns on his chest. She did not pull away. She did not tense up.

“Seems a little pointless now, doesn’t it?” she murmured.

Abe smiled into the darkness, holding her closer. “Yeah,” he agreed, a profound sense of rightness settling over him. “It really does.”