37. Natalie

37

NATALIE

H e has my thong pushed aside and the impossibly wide, blunt head of his dick wedged against my entrance and an anguished expression on his beautiful face that tells me he might actually die if I don’t sink down onto him and grant us both what we so badly need.

The room is quiet, the only sounds the reassuring crackle of the fire in its grate behind me, the rasp of breaths already laboured with anticipation, and the wet noises of my body preparing to take Adam in. This is no sex club. This is raw and intimate—a mirror shone on every denial, every insult, I’ve hurled at him, the light of honesty it’s reflecting so blinding I can’t escape it.

There’s nowhere to hide.

I wouldn’t want to, anyway.

My body is humming. Alive. My blood is warm treacle in my veins. I wrap my fingers around his hand and start to lower myself down. God, it’s like nothing else: the shockingly thick head of him, that low sound of approval, the way he glances up at me through his long, dark eyelashes like he, too, can’t believe this is actually happening.

If I let myself get intimidated by the size of this thing, I’ll clam up. There’s fear at the edges, but mostly I just feel a blind, raging need to fill myself with him, so I keep moving, my free hand bearing down on his shoulder for balance and leverage and probably reassurance as I bear down.

He fills me, inch by glorious inch. We’re both shaking.

‘Nearly there, little one,’ he croons through gritted teeth. ‘It’s taking every ounce of effort I have not to thrust up into you.’

‘I want that,’ I tell him, and he gives me a pained chuckle.

‘You have about thirty seconds to get used to it before I take over.’

I shimmy further down with a sharp inhale. I’m wet, but he’s fucking enormous. Still, the burn has nothing on the pure, carnal pleasure that’s flooding my lower half at the stretch of him. At the intensity of it all. My body continues to take, and take, and I roll my hips, and he’s there, touching a part of me that’s so deep inside. The feeling is like no other.

We stare at each other in wonder. Adam slides a hand under my hair and around my neck, tugging my mouth to his.

‘Feel how fucking good that is?’ he murmurs.

I smile against his lips. ‘Mmm-hmm.’ And, as he kisses me with rough, hungry strokes of his tongue, I drag myself up the length of his dick before pushing back down. It’s such a tight fit that my skin pricks with sweat.

‘Mmm. Do that again. Let me see you ride me.’

I lean back slightly in his lap. Next thing I know, he’s tugging my dress up from my hips, up, up, until it’s at my shoulders. I raise my arms and let him pull it off completely and throw it on the floor.

Oh my God.

When I glance down, past the black strapless bra and my bare stomach, the sight where our bodies meet is obscene: my black thong yanked aside and his huge dick disappearing inside me. My mouth makes an O, because it’s so indecent like this—and so, so hot.

He’s staring, too. ‘Fucking look at that. Jesus .’

I drop my forehead to his, clamping both hands to his shoulders and starting to move again, far more slowly than we both need, but the sight of his length disappearing and reappearing has us both transfixed. He lets me do it a couple more times before he’s wrapping a vice-like arm around my back and edging forward on the sofa.

‘Hold on tight,’ he grits out. I koala myself around him as he stands, his arms around me and his dick still inside me. God, his leg muscles must be made of steel.

As soon as we’re upright, the dynamic changes. He’s been humouring me, letting me play with my new favourite toy. He’s let me take my time, and shimmy prettily up and down it, and get to know it a little, but when I look up at him, at his pupils swallowing up those rings of pale blue and the almost unhinged desire etched on his face, it tells me the tables are about to turn.

He walks me backwards until my back hits a bookshelf and then, holding me tightly with one arm, reaches behind me and unsnaps my bra. There are no straps to untangle, so it comes off with a single snap and I’m practically naked in his arms.

‘Better,’ he grunts. He’s breathing heavily, looking between us at where my now-bare breasts are smushed against the crisply starched cotton of his shirt, my nipples sharp, needy little points that chafe deliciously against the fabric. They’re not the only needy things—his dick is still pulsing inside me, ready to show me what it’s capable of now he has me where he wants me.

As he wrestles his eyes away from my boobs and up to my face with a slow, seductive smile, it occurs to me that being naked in Adam’s arms and shoved up against one of his beautiful bookshelves may be what perfect happiness feels like.

Or it would if the ache deep inside, where that blunt crown presses so promisingly at the most intimate core of me, wasn’t quite so insistent.

‘Give me this,’ he says gruffly, his soft beard abrading my chin as he bends to capture my mouth, ‘and I’ll take you upstairs and worship you for the rest of the night.’

‘Please,’ I beg, because I want all of it. I want hours and decadent hours of Adam spreading me out on his bed and feasting on me, just as I want the carnal kick of him taking me hard and fast up against his beloved books.

I want every single treat this man sees fit to bestow upon me.

‘Mmm. That’s my girl.’ That hoarse, throaty mmm may be the best sound I’ve ever heard. ‘Hold on.’

I wrap my legs and arms more tightly around him, fingernails clawing at his shirt. ‘I need you naked,’ I say sulkily. ‘It’s not fair.’

He grins, and it’s positively wolfish. ‘Life’s not fair, little one. All in good time.’

‘Is it because you have a hairy back? Don’t be embarrassed. I’m willing to overlook— ohmyohmygod.’

He pulls out of me and thrusts up, hard, stealing the air from my lungs .

‘That’s one way to shut you up,’ he says, his voice ragged, and then he moves again.

Oh fuck, this is so much better than my dainty little moves on his cock. He’s using it on me like a weapon, size and strength combining into mighty shunts that create a halo of sensation reverberating out from where he’s hitting me.

‘Again.’

‘That I can do.’ He captures my mouth in a kiss as he drags that dick of his out and jams it back inside me, even harder than before. I keep him in a headlock with one arm so I can claw at his hair and tug his face as close to mine as humanly possible. I want nothing to exist but him and his mouth and his dick and these shoulders. I’m falling down an Adam-shaped rabbit hole and I never, ever want to come up for air.

‘Need this hard and fast,’ he grunts against my mouth. ‘Okay?’

‘Okay. Do it hard.’

‘Can you come like this?’

‘I’m seconds away,’ I manage.

His response to my confession is a strangled groan and a renewed assault on my pussy the like of which I’ve never known. This is Adam, unleashed and animalistic, fucking me like he’s been born to do this and nothing else.

I’ve wondered about this. I’ve thought about it endlessly today. I know he was holding back last night, and I know why. I bet he didn’t hold back with that woman he fucked and spanked the other night.

This is how he likes it.

This is what he needs.

And it’s me who’s giving it to him.

Somehow, everything I feared about him, everything I despised, has morphed, shifted, until it’s unrecognisable. The strength, the intensity, that primitive side he hides so well these days under those expensive disguises—it’s all here, at the fore, and to be the object of it all is as wondrous, as heady, as being in the eye of a beautiful storm destined to wreak havoc wherever it strikes.

It’s this knowledge, as much as the fast rolls of his hips and the relentless drives of his dick and the stunning fury of his kisses, that has my body growing molten around him, that has the flesh of my inner walls swelling and sparking with sensation. I cling to the now-damp cotton across his shoulders. My moans turn to whimpers as I bury my head in his neck and suck on the skin there.

It’s so much. I’m only human. It’s impossible to withstand this onslaught—unthinkable, even. My clit is rubbing against the fabric of his flies, adding an unnecessary but incredible layer of stimulus. And I’m spiralling, falling and soaring, so hard, so fast, like a junkie spinning into euphoria without the slightest care for how she’ll survive it.

‘Jesus, I can feel you getting close,’ Adam grits out against my ear. ‘So fucking good. You’re such—a—tight—little—thing.’

He fucks me as he forces out the words, and the thought of being his tight little thing has any remaining defences crumbling as my body surrenders to his offensive in spectacular, cataclysmic style.