Her cheeks hurt. She's been grinning like an idiot for five minutes and her cheeks hurt, but she can't stop. She runs out of the room, head swiveling around so fast she looks like a meerkat. He's gone. Shit. He's gone. Her cheeks relax into disappointment. Michael comes out of his office and his mouth is moving and sound is coming out, but she can't understand a word of it. She brushes roughly past him, grabs her stuff, runs out the door and doesn't even bother with the elevator.

Rushing out to the parking lot, she's just in time to see the rear bumper of his car receding from view. Fumbling in her purse for her keys, she rushes towards her little compact and she's moving before she's even put down her purse and coat. She turns out of the lot just in time to see Jim's car hang a left about three blocks away. She presses her foot all the way to the floor and the quick little engine makes her tires squeal. She runs an orange light and keeps her eyes glued to where she last saw his car, taking the left where she saw him disappear and frantically scans the traffic ahead.

There!

He's pulling over to the curb and she suddenly realizes that she has absolutely no idea what she's doing.

She slows and stops about a block behind him, takes a deep breath. Hands on the steering wheel, she lowers her lips to her knuckles and bites down in an effort to rouse herself from the bizarre hypnotic trance she's been in since the moment he opened the door to the conference room.

Easy girl. What are you doing?

I don't know. I don't know anything. I don't know what color the fucking sky is right now. I just need to touch him. I need to make sure it's real. That he's real.

She's out of the car and walking briskly in his direction, not even slowing when he gets out of his car and heads into a store. He doesn't see her. She reaches the door he's entered and realizes it's a florist.

What now, spygirl? Suddenly she can't move her legs. She can't move anything. She's stuck and staring through the glass at him as he pays for the enormous bouquet of daisies he's selected. He takes the elaborately ribboned flowers and turns to leave when he sees her and stops dead.

They both stand there, frozen, unsmiling. There's no room for any expression on his face with everything that's rushing through his mind. All he sees is her eyes, huge and staring straight through him to his soul and a smile doesn't quite cover it. She starts to shimmer like he's looking through a heat wave and his cheeks are wet suddenly, shocking him out of his paralysis. He picks up one foot and puts it in front of the other awkwardly, like he's never taken a step in his life, and his movement spurs her to action. They meet at the closed glass door. When he sees her tears, he raises his hand to the glass. She does the same thing and they stand there for a long while, palm to palm, the thin brittle membrane between them.

When he sees an impatient-looking elderly woman over her shoulder, he finally grins and motions to her with his chin. Reluctantly he takes his hand away from hers and opens the door. The old woman shuffles by Pam and shoots them both a quizzical look as she passes into the shop.

Pam still hasn't moved. All she can see are his eyes, green as the stems of the daisies he's holding. He holds them out to her, but she pushes them aside as her lips head straight for his and her arms wrap around his neck pull his head down to hers and her eyes stay wide open, staring into the green of the single eye he seems to have when he's that close.

The kiss is sweet and long and firm and sublime. The sound he makes is like something she's never heard come from a man in her life. A whimpering, like a thing dying. His lips have the perfect give, the perfect resistance, the perfect flavor and she just wants to do this forever. Forever. She finally closes her eyes and her wet lashes caress her cheeks in a way that reminds her of being held after skinning her knee.

When they separate, it's both of them pulling back at the same time, for breath, for perspective. He drinks in her face the same way she devours his. Every line, every hair, every curve. He bends down and she's quickly in his arms, being carried the short distance to his car like Debra Winger in an Officer and a Gentleman. He manages to get the door open with a grace that astounds her and deposits her quickly in the passenger seat. Never taking his eyes from her, he rounds the front and gets in. She reaches toward him and lightly grips the short curls at the nape of his neck. He shivers as the sensations fondles its way down his spine, jams the key into the ignition and pulls into traffic, barely looking where he's going. He doesn't ever want to stop looking at her, but he doesn't want to get them killed either.

It's a short, dangerous trip that ends at the front walk of his rented condo.

He's out of the car, around to open her door, and lifts her out of the car with an ease that sends a jolt of electricity through her spine. My God, he's strong. Her fingers dig into him slightly. There's almost no fat there, it's taught as cable under his suit. He never takes his gaze from her face as he opens the door, carries her across the threshold, through the hallway, up the stairs and into his bedroom when he stops. He's breathing a little heavily now, and she's not sure that it's from the exertion. The green is gone from his eyes completely and she can see herself reflected in the glossy black disks that have replaced them in the fading summer light.

She leans up to him and lightly touches her tongue to his parted lips. His eyes close and that sound comes again. God, that sound. She pulls herself closer to his face and licks his lips again, stronger this time. His breathing quickens and his grip on her tightens and he just lets her continue, not doing anything else but giving himself over to the most exquisite sensation he's ever felt in his life. When she stops, his eyes don't really open all the way. His lashes feel weighted, his lids only willing to lift as much as they need to to see her. The dark and hungry look on her face makes his knees buckle and he's kneeling now, still holding her in his arms. She pulls his tie loose and off, then starts to unbutton his shirt with one hand. Her small fingers make quick work as far down as she can go before she reaches the space where their bodies fuse together in his embrace. She pauses for a moment before she snakes her hand inside, encountering unexpectedly silken hair and gently grazing his left nipple. His grip weakens for the first time, but she's ready for it and slides to the floor, landing on her own knees facing him.

She's never had this much power. She's never felt this beautiful, or strong or wild. She pulls up on the tails of his shirt until it's free of his belt and she undoes the rest of his buttons, pausing to simply look at him, still in his jacket, shirt open, a soft spiral of hair disappearing below his waistline. He is perfectly still as she pushes the shirt and jacket off his shoulders, and stays perfectly still as she traces the muscles of his arms, his chest and his stomach with her feathery touch. His breath comes in short gasps now, and he is staring a hole into her, but he doesn't move a muscle. She pulls his head down and kisses him so tenderly he almost faints. His tongue shyly ventures out to meet hers and they sigh, sucking on each other's tongues and breathing in each other's air.

He reaches for her as she rocks back on her heels and stands up in a fluid motion that surprises the both of them. She approaches his kneeling form until she's less than a foot away from his face, and then starts to unbutton her own shirt. His hands move toward her slightly and the slightest arch of her eyebrow stills him. She finishes unbuttoning and lets the shirt fall open to reveal a simple pink bra and a taut stomach. He tries to swallow, but suddenly there's a lump the size of Rhode Island in his throat. She moves just a little closer to him and slowly pulls up her skirt until he can see that her underwear is soaked through and translucent against the soft curling hair between her legs.

His mouth is aligned exactly with the wet spot and she leans into him just enough to feel the heat of his breath through the fabric. She hooks her thumb into the front of the waistband and pulls it down to reveal the glistening down underneath. He looks up at her and licks his lips. She nods ever so slightly and he slithers his tongue into the dark cleft in front of him. She inhales sharply as his tongue slowly maps the terrain. She spreads her legs ever so slightly and slides her fingers into his hair, gripping what's left, momentarily wishing for its longer incarnation so she can wrap her fist in it. He takes this as permission to finally move his hands and grazes first the insides of her ankles with his fingertips, then her knees and her thighs, and reaches behind her to grip her ass with his left hand as he slowly glides the longest of his long fingers past her panties into her with his right.

He steadies her as she sways and gasps, her breath ragged, small growls coming from all the way down in her stomach. He pulls her to him, licking her now with longer strokes, moving first middle finger, then the ring finger as well slowly in and out of her until she begins to shake, her fingers tightening in his hair, the nails of her other hand digging into her hitched skirt. She starts to grunt softly and then gets louder as he pushes her toward the brink, and then he's flooded, drinking her as she wails, trembling and shaking, and the only things holding her up are his fingers inside of her like she's a puppet. She folds over him, limp, moaning. He stands with her slung over his shoulder and then tosses her on his king-sized bed.

She rouses from her bliss long enough to appreciate that he looks almost dangerous standing over her. He unbuckles his belt with something that approaches fury and pulls it roughly from the loops and for a moment she thinks he's going to whip her with it and she knows she would let him. She knows that she would let him do anything he wanted to her for the rest of her life. He stands at the foot of the bed, glowering at her, willing her forward, and she goes. On her hands and knees, she crawls to him and waits. He slowly unbuttons his pants and as he lets them fall to the floor, and she sees his cock, stiffly straining against the material of his underwear. It's long and thick, and she can't help but compare it to Roy's for a split second, anticipating the upgrade. As if he's reading her mind, he unveils it for her and when she looks up at him, she can see the slightest hint of satisfaction on his face. It stands straight up at a 45 degree angle to his tight stomach and as she approaches it, she thinks that it's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen and her mouth floods in anticipation.

She's never enjoyed going down on Roy, but all she wants to do is suck on this exquisite pillar like it's a pacifier. She darts her tongue out to taste it before he expects it and his knees buckle a little as he starts. She tastes salt and wants more. She licks the tips again and then ducks her head and to breathe in his musky scent. He still smells of soap and she rubs her cheek gently against his balls, loving how bare and soft they feel next to his hairy thighs. He keens like some kind of wounded animal. Suddenly all she want is to fill her mouth and throat with him and she quickly, gently engulfs the head of his shaft with her lips, jaw as open as it can go, pushing him deeper into her throat until there's no more room. She pulls back slightly and circles his shaft with her tongue and sucks him back into her throat. His breath comes in little "ohs" and she brings her hand up to gently cup his balls, moving a little faster now. His hips begin to move of their own accord and he threads his huge hands through her hair, guiding her to his rhythm. She moves her nimble fingers a little farther back between his legs and starts to stroke his perineum, the trail growing slicker with her saliva until her finger is flirting with the asterisk of his anus, rubbing it lightly and his cock moves wetly in and out of her mouth. As his gasps become more ragged and grow deeper, she pushes a little harder until the tip of her index finger is moving in and out of him and his pants become cries and he grips her hair as he shoots into her, down her throat. She doesn't gag but gulps him like he's water in a desert and then continues to suckle at him until it's too much for him to bear and his falls forward, landing in an exhausted pushup across her back.

For a long moment, neither of them moves. He stares at the rope her panties have become wrapped around her knees and he grabs it, using it as a handle to spin her around so she faces him. They stare at each other like rabid cats, breathing heavily, daring the other to move. He pushes back onto his knees and pulls off her panties, makes quick work of her skirt. He sits back to appreciate his handiwork and then moves forward to loom over her, pinning her between his legs. His cock still at half-mast, he reaches down and hooks his finger under the front of her bra. She moves to sit up but he shakes his head and simply rips it open with his bare hands. She flinches at the near-violence but then her eyes reflect a part of her that's never seen the light of day. They flash at him as she pulls her legs out from between his and then spreads them wide under his stomach. The shaft of his cock grazes the still-sopping folds of her cunt and she shudders in apprehension. She almost wants it to hurt, and he sees it in her face, his mouth curling into an almost cruel line. His hips shift and he grazes her again, this time with the tip, a little deeper into the folds this time. She raises her hips to meet him, but he pulls back, eliciting a small cry of protest.

He teases her while his cock quickly regains its strength, and he's rubbing her swollen clit with the whole head now, slipping it first up one slick side of it, then down the other. She starts to shake and he recognizes where she's going, so he stops for a moment, causing her face to contort with frustration. He grins then, and shoves into her so quickly and roughly that she yelps in pain and delight. He draws himself up to his knees and pulls her hips up with him until only her shoulders and head remain on the bed. He rubs her clit slowly with the pad of his thumb and he draws all the way out and then glides all the way in. He stops several times to collect himself and tease the lips of her cunt with the head of his cock, slipping it lightly in and out of her as he continues to caress her clit. She starts to shake again, but there's no sound coming out of her now. Watching her face as she's about to come is the most intoxicating thing he's ever experienced in his life. She's hovering on the edge now and he wants to draw it out as long as he can, but she falls, tumbling in ecstacy and her cunt tightens around his cock in waves and it's all he can do to hold back his own climax. He swings her up and holds her tightly to him, kissing her neck and her ears as she's bleating like a lamb and he just wants to make it happen again and again.

He lets her down and lifts one of her legs and before she knows what's happening, he's flipped her over onto her knees, his cock still inside her. That feeling of spinning on his cock is almost enough to make her come again right there. She exhausted but she knows he's not done with her yet as he starts to move in and out of her very slowly, pulling her ass to his hips and pushing her away even more slowly. She pushes up onto her hands so she can look at his eyes as he slides in and out of her. She has never, ever known anything like this in her life and she wants it and him every day for the rest of it. He spreads her wide open with his huge hands and starts to plow in earnest, letting his thumbs brush over the insides of her smooth sensitive cleft, occasionally letting them dip down lower, seeking encouragement. She moansand nods the next time he fingers the small pink hole and he has it. As he moves into her with the next stroke, he softly pushes the tip of his little finger inside her and the sensation is enough to send her screaming over the edge.

She contracts around him until she's almost limp and he twirls her again, still impaled, until she faces him once more, and then lies on top of her with his full bulk, devouring her face with his eyes, sucking on her tight tender nipples until he can't hold back anymore and he pushes into her with everything he has left as she wraps her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck and simply dangles from his body as his exploding cock plunges into her, into oblivion.

They meld into sleep, legs entwined, every possible surface plastered together with sweat and desire. They sleep for a long, long time.

In the morning, he awakens to her eyes taking inventory of his features with an intensity that assures him he's never going to lose her again. She leans in to kiss him and then smiles and speaks for the first time in 12 hours.

"Hi." she says.

"Hi." he says.

"You're mine." she says.

"Yes, I am." he says.

"Good." she says as she traces the curve of his lips with a fingertip. She dip her finger into his mouth to wet it and continues drawing on his face. He watches her with a fascination he's only just now allowing.

"You belong to me now." he says gruffly, feeling himself swell.

"Yes, I do." she replies, reaching for him.