I grabbed his tie and pulled him towards me, crushing my lips against his as my glasses were skewed across my face.

Sam responded positively, grunting as he slammed me back against the wall and I heard the room door clunk closed. His body was firmer than you might expect from a pen pusher in his mid fifties. But then, supervillaining required something of a toned physique. I knew that from experience. Not that I was ever a true supervillain. More of an antiheroine. Either way, it was physically demanding work.

His breath rasped around our kiss, his body rumpling my top as his strong fingers caressed my hips. I mewled as his full weight pressed against me uncomfortably, making me squirm with a sudden rush of pleasure. Fuck, he was good. His confidence was palpable as he broke away, grabbing my wrists in one large hand and raising them over my head, holding me against the wall while he studied me.

In one fluid motion, his free hand went to my face, grabbed the specs and flung them across the room to clatter into the corner. “Good evening, Miss Mason.”

“Mrs,” I corrected, meeting his eyes.

He grinned, an expression just a little south of friendly. It showed too much teeth, emphasised by the baldness of his head and the goatee-and-moustache beard. “Quite. And where exactly is your husband tonight, while I have the…pleasure of your company? You’re not going to have to rush off to him, are you?”

I shook my head. “Derek has been…unexpectedly tied up at work.”

I knew that Derek could hear me. And see me. Us. I imagined the fury on his face and a smile plucked at the corners of my lips. Under any other circumstances, the handcuffs would never have held him. He could have snapped the chain without breaking a sweat. But the toxin in his bloodstream had weakened every muscle to the point where he was decidedly below average. All he could do was watch. And listen.

“Are we going to talk?” I asked. “Or are we going to fuck?”

Sam laughed, but the light from the spotlights in the ceiling danced in his eyes. “You’re unexpectedly direct. I like that.”

“Still talking,” I pointed out.

He leaned in, his mouth going to my neck, his facial hair tickling the sensitive skin as his lips and teeth moved back and forth. At the same time, the free hand that wasn’t holding my arms above my head moved to cup my cunt, making me squeak with surprise as the pads of his fingers pressed into my mound through the thin, lacy black fabric of my thong panties. My breathing quickened, my stomach clenching as his hands worked together to lift me just a little higher on the wall, feet straining to stay connected with the floor.

“Fuck…” I moaned. “Oh, fuck.”

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