Free Reckless by Andrew Gross

insecure bond trader who couldn’t even decide what tie to wear. He became a fixture on CNBC and took calls from finance ministers from around the globe. He traveled with knockout Ivy League assistants. First it was the kids, then it was the stress and demands of the job. He stopped touching her. Then it was the long-legged lingerie model with the hard-to-pronounce name.
    Now, Merrill mused, how the “powers that be” had swung.
    He had the dwindling stock price and the impossible-to-get-rid-of-at-any-price apartment.
    She had the hundred-million-dollar settlement!
    She went to the wine room and opened the ornate Lalique etched doors. It was a giant space, Peter’s showcase, packed with prestigious first growths and cult wines from California only a Wall Street CEO could afford. She went over to the far wall, remembering from where they had pulled the Del Dotto. She took out the last two bottles of the case. She heard the door reopen behind her and spun around.
    Dani came in.
    “You scared me,” she said, her heart skipping a beat. “What are you doing down here?”
    “I needed a break,” he said, a sly look on his face. He shut the door.
    He went up and took the bottles from her and placed them on the table. In the chill of the cellar, she realized her nipples were showing through.
    Dani smiled. “A proper hostess never serves her own wine.”
    “Emily Post, I suppose?” she asked, brushing past him.
    “No. Dani Thibault.” He grinned. He moved his hand along her slim body and drew her to him. “You smell intoxicating, darling…”
    “Dani, please. Everyone’s waiting. Not here…”
    “Everyone’s talking about interest rates and how Obama is screwing them.” He shifted her around so that his pelvis pressed against her rear and she felt him all hard. “Trust me, they don’t even know we’re gone.”
    “You’re crazy,” Merrill said, trying to pull away. “Besides, Louis may come down any second.”
    “Louis’s got his dick in the crème anglaise…” He kissed her neck, running his tongue along the curve of her exposed shoulders. “And I’ve got mine in…”
    He cupped a hand over one of her breasts and with the other pulled the blouse out of Merrill’s jeans, deftly pinning her hips against the table. It sent sparks of excitement mixed with uncertainty traveling down her spine. “Dani, please…”
    She felt the warmth of his lips brush along her neck and almost involuntarily felt herself shifting against the hardness pressing against her.
    “It’s the fucking wine cellar,” she said, her blood heating, and at the same time wondered what the group around the dinner table, two of whom were in her garden and book clubs, would say.
    “Exactly.” Dani grinned, mischief in his eyes.
    With one hand he unbuckled her gold chain belt and flicked open the snap of her jeans. Merrill felt a flame of desire dance through her. With the other, he ripped at his own belt and zipper and slid his trousers down. This was rougher than he usually was, more forceful, and she thought, for a brief second, that it was as if it was almost in answer to her own doubts and fears. He slid her red panties down.
    “Goddamnit, Dani, please…”
    Merrill wanted to pull herself away, end this, but before the words made it to her lips, he had lifted her up against his pelvis and pushed inside. She gasped at the first feeling of the size of him filling her. He rocked, pinning her by the thighs, and her blood surged with the secrecy of what they were doing, holding off the forces of weakness and shame. She begged herself to say Stop, stop, but all she heard was her own trembling breaths, everything intensifying. Her skin started to heat, and Dani’s animal grunts became louder and more excited.
    The banter at the dinner table was a million miles away.
    They both came within a minute, shivers of satisfaction relaxing Merrill’s spine. She shut her eyes, feeling both as alive as sheever had and angry at her own weakness