40. Natalie

40

NATALIE

A s he lowers himself down on top of me, I groan with the sheer pleasure of his weight, his skin. He reaches up and brushes some stray hairs off my face, his fingers lingering on my jaw, eyes flickering over my face like he can’t quite trust what he sees.

‘Think you can come again?’ he murmurs, and I laugh.

‘Highly unlikely. I’ve never even come twice in one night until now. A hat trick feels excessive.’

He grins. ‘Seriously? That’s shit for you, but I love it for me.’

‘I told you last night. Nobody likes a gloater.’

‘I’ll gloat even more when I’ve given you a third,’ he says, lowering his mouth to mine, and I close my eyes and allow the indulgence of it all to wash over me: his mouth, his heaviness, that body, and the promise of his thick crown nudging at my entrance.

Our frantic fuck up against the bookshelves in his library where we scratched the most urgent of itches was beyond hot, but this is… incredible. Terrifying . I draw my knees up and stretch my arms out lazily above my head as he pushes inside me, wide and hungry and insistent. It’s so intense like this, being tied up for him. Surrounded by him. Consumed by him. The way his tongue entangles with mine. Those delicious sounds he makes low in his throat, like I’m driving him to a place of wildness. Savagery. And, God , the feel of him working his way inside my body, dragging against my needy nerve endings.

When he bottoms out, we both groan at the pleasure of it.

‘Jesus, I’m in,’ he says through gritted teeth. ‘You’re the tightest, sweetest, loveliest thing I’ve ever felt, sweetheart.’

This feels sacred. Awe-inspiring. He moves, his mouth not leaving mine, his arms caging me in in a way that makes me feel cocooned. There’s a tsunami of emotion working its way up from my stomach to my throat. I can barely think straight amid this maelstrom of sensation. I wasn’t lying—I probably can’t come again—but this goes way beyond orgasms. Having him on top of me, inside me, feels elemental, as if the place where our bodies are joined is some kind of super circuit, a switch throwing what I believe and who I am into sharp relief.

I’m making noises, I realise, little whines that are delighted and pleading in equal measure. I hope he can hold on, because I never, ever want him to stop. There must be a God, because those long, powerful pumps of his stay rhythmical as he fucks me.

‘Dear God,’ he grits out, releasing my lips so he can bury his face in the crook of my neck, ‘I could die a happy man right now.’

‘Please don’t die. I’m not finished with you yet.’ I wish I could raise my arms and loop them over that glorious, tousled head of his. I wish I could touch every inch of his body. But he asked me for this, and it seemed like he wanted it very badly, and right now I’ll do anything within my power to make this beautiful, kind, damaged man as happy as possible.

‘I’ll try to hang in there.’ He raises himself back up. Before I quite know what’s happening, he’s sliding out of me and flipping me over before tugging me up onto my knees with a firm arm banded around my stomach. I squeal, but as he plunges into me from behind, the squeal turns to an embarrassingly guttural moan, because hoooooly fuck , that’s deep, and it’s so, so good. I don’t even attempt to get up onto my elbows, instead letting my cheek press into the smooth cotton of the duvet and my arms stay outstretched.

Adam digs the fingers of one hand into my hip, holding me in place while he fucks me. This new position has unleashed something in him. He’s pounding into me harder, faster, than before. His other hand trails up my spine before he reaches around to squeeze my breast.

‘When I say,’ he says in a hoarse voice, ‘that this is pretty much all I’ve thought about doing to you since the moment I laid eyes on that hostile little face of yours… fuuuuck. ’ He punctuates that expletive with a particularly savage thrust that has me grunting like a farm animal and shunting up the bed a little while my inner walls celebrate, because Christ Almighty, if this guy isn’t in very real danger of giving me a third orgasm.

‘Really?’ I manage, deciding I’ll attribute the breathiness in my voice to the fact that his dick has pumped all the air out of my lungs. I’m not sure if it’s demeaning or hot that he’s wanted to bend me over and fuck me senseless this whole time.

Definitely hot.

And probably a little demeaning, but who gives a flying fuck ?

Not me.

‘Really. Oh God, this is… you look so fucking beautiful, bent over for me. You should see how glorious your tight little cunt looks, taking me in, over and over.’

I have never been spoken to like this. Never. I think all my most recent ex was capable of was the occasional yes, baby or take it. Adam’s filthy words have desire roiling in my stomach and suffusing the entire area about which he’s waxing so poetically with a glowing, sparking heat.

He likes me bent over for him. Oh God—I wonder if this is how he fucked her when he spanked her. It must have been, surely? It would be the obvious position. Something darker spikes inside me, something envious and adversarial. God knows, I’m a total newbie at this stuff, but I want to be the woman who turns him on more than anyone else. I don’t want him holding himself back, treating me with kid gloves and then fantasising about—or worse, going to —other women for the stuff that gives him his real kicks.

All of which gives me the courage to ask, albeit in a small voice, ‘Have you thought about spanking me, too?’

He groans and shunts deep inside me. ‘Jesus Christ, sweetheart. Warn a guy.’

‘Is that a yes?’ My voice sounds weird, given one ear and cheek are plastered to his bed. I wish I could see him.

‘It doesn’t matter. This is—this is way more than enough, believe me.’

‘Will you spank me?’

‘No.’ He sounds angry as he pulls almost all the way out and drives back in. ‘I don’t want you worrying about that stuff, okay?’

‘I think I want you to.’ I let that bombshell lie there. For a moment all I can hear is our ragged breathing and the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh .

‘If you think so, then we can discuss it another time, when I’ve got my shit together.’ Thrust. ‘Because I’m so close to blowing, sweetheart, and the idea of pinking up this little arse of yours isn’t helping.’

He pauses for a second and does something with his hips that has his dick kind of gyrating inside me, and it feels so sublime that I forgo my retort in favour of a moan.

‘That’s my girl,’ he says. ‘You like that, hmm? You like having my dick buried this deep inside you?’

‘Uh-huh.’ Jesus, yes.

‘God, I’m loving how much you want my cock,’ he croons. He’s stroking both my arse cheeks now, and I know I’m not the only one imagining him spanking me. ‘Who knew a sweet little thing like you would have such a greedy cunt?’

Fuck, fuck, fuck. It’s all too much—it’s too dirty, both what he’s saying, and being bent over like this with my bum in the air. The heat is building. My entire lower half is glowing. I feel radioactive—I could light up the national grid with the energy I’m producing. The heat is achy and insistent and wonderful, and I’m fluid and helpless in the face of Adam’s verbal and, um, penile, barrage.

‘I’m going to—’ I stutter before I burst like a balloon, impossible, ludicrous pleasure coursing over me in wave after wave as he fucks me through it.

‘Oh Jesus fuck, thank fuck,’ he mutters. He gives me another couple of strokes before going impossibly rigid and jerking out his own release deep, deep inside my body.