The next three nights followed the same addictive pattern. Ava lived for the rain and the echo. Work became background noise; her real life existed only in the atrium after dark.
Theo grew bolder with his words. He described fantasies in vivid detail — how he would press her against the finished glass wall of the atrium, hands roaming freely while the city lights twinkled below. How he would drop to his knees and taste her until she screamed his name.
One stormy evening, Ava arrived wearing a skirt instead of pants — a deliberate choice that made Theo groan when he noticed.
"Naughty girl," he teased. "You want easier access tonight?"
"Yes," she confessed, already flushed. "I've been thinking about you all day."
"Then spread your legs for me, love. Let the echo hear how much you need this."
She did, leaning back with her skirt bunched at her hips. Theo's voice guided her fingers with filthy precision — circling her clit, dipping inside, describing how tight and hot she would feel around him. He told her exactly how he would fuck her in the finished building — slow and deep at first, then harder when she begged.
Ava came twice that night, the second orgasm ripping a loud, broken moan from her throat. The pleasure was sharper, more intense than before, fueled by the growing emotional bond and the fear that each time might be the last.
When the rain eased, Theo's voice was weaker than ever.
"I'm fighting to stay with you," he said quietly. "But every design choice you make pulls me further away."
Ava's eyes stung with tears. "I don't want to lose you."
"Then we make every moment count."