25. Natalie

25

NATALIE

T here are entire galaxies in which my having any interaction at all with Adam Wright is a dreadful idea, yet they shrink into some cosmic black hole as he touches his tongue to the millimetres of nerve-riddled flesh that has quickly become my only universe.

It’s not just his tongue, though. It’s the way his nose presses against my pelvic bone, the slant of his jaw as he tilts his head to bury himself as deep as he can, and the fan of dark eyelashes on his cheeks as he closes his eyes. It’s the inhales of my pussy so deep they’re practically snorts, and the dig of his fingertips into my arse cheeks, and the abrasion of crisp cotton and hard shoulder muscle against the skin of my thigh.

God knows, the whole effect feels filthy and carnal and heady, so heady I’m in danger of losing my mind and begging this man for everything—for kisses and fucks, for the gift of letting me see him lose control. Because he promised me self-control, and he’s shaking with the effort of keeping it; I can feel it.

And some strange shift has come about where the idea of Adam Wright spiralling out of control with me feels not even remotely frightening but utterly intoxicating.

The tongue sliding over my clit as his beard brushes my pussy is the singular most perfect thing I’ve ever felt, so when he makes a hungry sound and pulls his head away so he can glance up at me, I stare down at him, bewildered. What the hell is he doing? He should never, ever stop this. He should do this forever.

He stands, and fuck is he tall. And very, very fully clothed.

‘I want you on the bed,’ he says with difficulty, his hands sliding around my waist and tugging me against him. ‘I want to spread you out so I can enjoy you properly.’

His voice is so strained. He’s all expensive fabrics and concealed muscles and hard arousal, and I’m soft and naked and pliant in his arms. I like this power imbalance far, far more than I should.

I stare up into his face, at the mouth that’s just been on me and the eyes that are taking their fill of me. His words thrill me. They make me feel as if I’m a different type of host, one of the women who work in The Playroom and make their bodies available for the members’ every whim.

Like whoever he was spanking just now. He said she was working again tonight. He fucked one of the hosts the other night, and he said she loved it, and I’m sure she did. Who wouldn’t love being worked over by this man, if they had no prior knowledge of him?

I want him to work me over. I want so much more than his hands flexing on my waist and his tongue dancing on my clit. If he wants to spread me out and enjoy me , God knows I won’t stop him.

‘What are you waiting for?’ I ask him now. He smiles like I’m full of surprises and turns us towards the bed .

God, the flash of us in the huge mirror on the opposite wall is really something. Who even are we? I’m tiny and pale and naked, and he’s this dark, suited giant intent on devouring me.

And I fucking love it.

I tug my hair out of its ponytail, getting on the bed and edging backwards as elegantly as I can until I’m lying there on my elbows. He’s toeing off his loafers immediately and crawling over me as I widen my legs to accommodate him and Jesus Christ is this hot. His proximity. His sheer size as he crouches, looms, over me, intensity radiating from him. He’s shaking with it as he braces on his hands and surveys me like I’m his property, his little plaything, and I soak it all up. If I was any other woman, he’d be bending to kiss me right now, I’m sure of it. His mouth is right there , such a lovely thing, tempting and plump and skilled.

‘Your hair is…’ he begins. ‘It’s so beautiful, loose like this. What a delicious little thing you are.’ He braces on one hand as he bends to suck my needy nipple and reaches between my legs, finding my entrance and pushing in so hard I gasp. The heat of his finger and the pressure of his mouth are wondrous, and I arch into his touch, finding his hair with my hands, threading my fingers through it.

‘Such a shame you hate me,’ he muses against my breast. ‘I’d love to kiss you. It’s interesting, though’—he twists his finger inside me, and oh my dear God—‘that you can’t keep your legs closed for me, isn’t it? And it’s positively fascinating that you are absolutely soaked.’

That fucker. ‘You’re such an arrogant dick,’ I say, instinctively pushing my legs together, but he chooses that moment to seal his mouth to my nipple and his thumb to my clit and I practically catapult off the bed.

He laughs and looks up. There’s a smirk on his face that I’d really like to slap off. ‘That may be, but tell me this doesn’t make you want to open your legs wider.’ This is a measured circle of his thumb pad over my clit, its slickness a testament to my arousal.

‘I hate you,’ I say, throwing an arm over my face.

‘But you love the way I touch you.’ He drags his thumb over my clit again and cliffs crumble to clouds of dust. Worlds shatter. ‘And I love it, too. If you trusted me more, I’d tie you to this bed, or maybe I’d put these lovely long legs on a spreader bar so I could play with this cunt as much as I wanted.’

I can actually feel myself growing wetter at the thought of Adam dominating me like that, at the thought of submitting to him and his darkness and his kinks, lying there, restrained and only taking what he sees fit to give me.

Him and his body parts being my whole existence.

I groan.

‘Imagine it.’ He adds another finger inside me, and the burn is real but also… it’s heaven. ‘Hours of this, hours of teasing and fucking until you’ve come so many times you don’t know your own name and my dick is your favourite thing in the world. Until my mouth has acquainted itself with every single inch of your body.’

‘Ugh,’ I say. It’s the only thing I’m capable of saying, because he slides back down my body, kissing me as he goes, until he can crook those fingers and put his tongue back on me, and this , this is all I can bring myself to care about. Not the guilt and the shame of spreading my legs for a man like this, but the unadulterated pleasure coursing through my nerve endings as he fucks me slowly with his fingers and licks me so thoroughly, so lavishly, that I’m incapable of resistance.

‘Oh God,’ I say as he thrusts and sucks and the molten heat builds and builds in my core, the pressure and the pleasure consuming me. My abs are cramping, my legs are spread so wide they’re shaking, I’m pushing my pussy into his face like the greediest little whore, and, as I go under, there’s the strangest feeling of relief that I can let go, that Adam has taken me to a place so pure in this little room that knowing the fullness of my pleasure is all that matters.

‘Oh God,’ I whimper again, shifting on the sheets, back arching and fingers moving restlessly in his hair and pussy driving into him, ‘I can’t, oh shit, I’m?—’

He drags a hand up my stomach to pinch one nipple hard and that, combined with the rough, depraved strokes of his tongue and the pumps of his fingers, has me sailing over the edge like a pebble cast off a cliff. My pleasure is white-hot and pure; it’s a rip-tide that sucks every single thing that’s not it into some kind of vortex. He licks me and licks me and I sob my way through it—I may even scream.

I lie there and let the delirium course over me until it’s ebbed gently away and all that remains is the kind of post-orgasmic serenity that’s like concussion.

Adam crawls back up my body, planting kisses over my skin as he does, and settles himself heavily between my legs. He’s so hard he could probably fuck me through his suit trousers, and so close he’ll definitely kiss me. Definitely.

But he doesn’t. He hovers above my mouth, his lips glistening with my arousal, and as that serenity morphs into a void, I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted anything so much as for him to plunder my mouth and fill my pussy.

We stare at each other.

‘That was—extraordinary,’ he grits out. ‘You’re dangerous.’

Right back at ya, pal.

‘Fuck me,’ I propose instead .

He gives a little laugh that contains precisely zero humour and shakes his head, his gaze roaming from my eyes to my mouth and back again before he throws my stupid words from earlier back at me.

‘Nobody’s fucking anyone, remember? I suspect you’ll have a lot of regrets tomorrow—or maybe as soon as you leave this room—and I don’t want to add to that list.’

I slide a hand between us and palm that lovely hard dick of his. Christ it’s gorgeous, suspended heavily between us, filling his trousers up. ‘May as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.’

He groans. ‘I’m serious. I’m trying to be respectful here.’

You’d think I’d like a respectful man. You’d think I’d value that quality, especially in someone I’m strongly predisposed to distrust.

Not so much, it turns out.

‘Let me make you come, then.’

‘Stop it.’ He dips his face to my neck, and I’m pretty sure he snorts my hair before pressing a soft kiss to my skin. I wonder if he’s aware that he’s rolling his hips against my hand.

I thought it was irritating when someone I’m trying to hate acts nobly, but it turns out it’s far more irritating when someone I’m trying to hate and fuck acts nobly.

‘You need to shoot your load. Badly,’ I point out. I can’t bear that I’ve got him so wound up that he might actually go back out there and find someone else for his release.

‘Don’t worry about me,’ he mumbles into my hair. ‘I’ll sort myself out in the bathroom.’

I need him to come. I can’t bear the inequality of it. He’s seduced me. He’s tasted the most intimate part of my body and he’s seen me lose control. He’ll go home tonight with memories of how my body tremored, how loudly I cried out at his hands. I absolutely have to have the same from him.

He’s proven his point.

I want to undo him.

It’s only fair.

‘Come on me, then.’