65. Adam

65

ADAM

I t’s her breathy little groan that spurs me on—that sign that she needs this as badly as I do. This astonishing woman, so strong and beautiful, so magnificent, has given me carte blanche to run rampant over her body, and I’m damn well going to give thanks for every moment while also pushing her to her limits.

Because, God knows, she’s responded so perfectly to every push so far.

I take enormous pleasure in peeling her leggings and thong slowly, slowly down and revealing the creamy white skin of her arse for my viewing pleasure. ‘Very nice,’ I murmur, smoothing a hand over it. My breathing is still ragged from those fucking pull-ups, and my leg muscles scream as I squat for a better look at the line of pretty holes between her cheeks.

‘I’m going to be in a whole world of pain tomorrow because someone interrupted me before I got a chance to stretch out,’ I muse idly, straightening up so I can bend over her. ‘What do you say to that?’

She gives a little giggle. ‘Poor baby. ’

‘I think it’s only fair that we’re both sore tomorrow, don’t you?’

I slap her right cheek hard without warning at the same time that the first and index fingers of my left hand push hard inside her, and the little cry she makes as she bucks is fucking glorious.

‘Don’t you?’ I repeat as I twist my fingers inside her body and massage her pinked-up flesh.

‘Um—yes,’ she manages, clawing ineffectually at the marble surface of the island.

‘Quite right.’ I withdraw my fingers and rush to free my now fully hard cock, shoving my shorts down till they’re bunched at my ankles. ‘Let’s get you sore in the best way possible, sweetheart. Hmm?’

As she pants out her yes please , I take my cock in my fist and drag it down from her entrance to her clit and back up again. Her slickness is heavenly torture against my poor, sensitised crown.

‘Tell me if it hurts against the marble,’ I say, and then I’m pushing in. Yeah, she’s wet, but I haven’t exactly warmed her up to take me, and it’s fucking tight. Dear God above, the sight of my beautiful Nat, bent over for me and taking my dick inch by slow, friction-filled inch, is an almost religious experience, and the disbelief hits me in a wave of emotion right alongside the sensory pleasure of driving, driving, until I’m bottoming out inside her.

‘Fuck me, sweetheart, you are such a good girl right now,’ I groan. I’m going to take her hard and fast and then drag her into the enormous shower next door and soap up every perfect inch of her skin. ‘Do you want it rough?’

‘You know I do,’ she moans. ‘I want to feel your balls slapping against my thighs as you fuck me.’

Sweet Jesus .

One of the hundreds of miraculous things about growing close to this woman has been the discovery that she comes seriously hard and, it seems, relatively easily, from penetration. I’d go down on her for hours and hours without complaint—tasting her is still an extraordinary privilege—but being able to orgasm in sync with her is pretty fucking special.

My workout has endorphins coursing through my veins. Nat showed up for her coy little fangirl routine at the best possible time. I feel strong, powerful, and my power is something I no longer shrink from. It’s something I relish, something I channel.

Especially right now.

Standing up straight behind her, I pull out slowly… and then I ram the fuck home.

‘Oh my God.’ Her voice is guttural. Primal.

‘Okay?’ I’m worried her hips will bruise against the marble as I ram into her over and over.

‘More than okay.’

She really, really is such a good girl. I’ll let her come fast and hard. God knows, we both need it. I keep hold of her hip with one hand and use the other to push up her gauzy sweater so I can admire the delicate hills and valleys of her spine as I let her have it with thrust after thrust. It’s so fucking deep at this angle, and the slap of my balls as they meet her thighs each time is second only to that clean rasp when my hand meets her arse.

My beautiful, classy girlfriend likes it rough, and I wouldn’t be fulfilling my obligations as a boyfriend if I didn’t give her what she needs. Her cries and my grunts ramp up as I continue my onslaught. Her eyelashes flicker against her cheek as she takes my pounding. She’s a vision .

‘Did you come in here hoping to get fucked?’ I ask her gruffly.

‘Obviously,’ she says in a breathy voice.

I grit my teeth together in an attempt to control myself. My little minx was upstairs, in her own version of festive heaven, but she decided to wander down and see if she could persuade me to give her a good seeing to.

Holy fuck.

‘I need to get a spanking bench for this place,’ I decide aloud. Fuck Alchemy. I want to be able to do to Nat what I did in New York whenever I please, in the privacy of my own home. ‘Would you like that?’ I’m so close to blowing I can barely get the words out.

‘Buy me one for Christmas,’ she manages, and I grit out an anguished laugh.

‘Too. Fucking. Right.’ I stretch the words out, thrusting with each one, and her internal muscles begin to flutter around me, teasing my dick in the most tortuous way.

‘God, sweetheart, give it to me.’ I take great pride in dragging out of her and slamming home as hard as I can.

‘Ahhh!’ she cries.

‘Yes. Yes . Take it.’ I’m mumbling through clenched teeth as I thrust, my forehead beaded with even more sweat, my well-worked abs screaming as I fuck her nice and hard and evenly.

She’s scrambling harder at the marble, her lips working, eyes squeezed tightly shut in ecstasy as her orgasm builds. She’s a slave to her own needs in this perfect moment. I wind her—and myself—higher. ‘Jesus Christ, sweetheart, feel how much this greedy cunt loves my cock,’ I grit out.

That does it. She screams and proceeds to shatter around me, beneath me, her body draped so beautifully over this block of marble that it’s almost as if it’s an altar and she’s the most exquisite sacrificial lamb.

My sacrificial lamb. She’s surrendered to me, body and soul, and it’s an offering so awe-inspiring that it has me following her over the edge of consciousness into a void that’s nothing but white-hot pleasure.

‘Okay,’ I tell her. ‘I’m ready.’

She grins up at me from her place next to me. Toby and I have carried a little two-seater sofa out into the front garden, Toby having hastily wrapped the French oak legs in cling film to avoid the cold, damp grass damaging the wood. We’ll have to find a more permanent solution for the next few weeks, though. I suspect this will become one of Natalie’s favourite nighttime routines.

‘All right.’ She aims the remote control at a box nestled to the left of the porch and gasps as the music starts up. I steady the non-alcoholic hot toddy Toby concocted for us on my knee with one hand and wrap the other arm more tightly around her.

Beyond the front door, the house is transformed with the most elegant of touches, thanks to my girlfriend’s artistic eye. The trees, the fresh greenery, are lush and fragrant, the decorations complementing my interior scheme and artwork to perfection.

It’s as if she’s waved a magic wand and brought Christmas inside my home for the first time.

To the solemn strains of Once in Royal David’s City, the light projection begins. It was by far the most expensive line item on the decoration company’s invoice, but I suspect, from the size of the smile on Nat’s face, that it’ll be worth every penny. They’ve custom-designed the projection for the exact proportions of my home’s facade, and it looks like they’ve delivered the wow factor.

I’ve turned all the exterior lights off and shut the curtains so the front of the house lies in relative darkness, excepting the lights from the street. Now, in front of us, blue-white figures that look like angels rise from the ground and appear to scale the front of the house, frolicking on the central section above the porch before breaking off and taking flight against the perfect backdrop of the plain white stuccoed walls.

It’s glorious, honestly. I fucking love this stuff. The light show tells the story of the birth of Christ, and I see the holy family on their donkeys, birds soaring through the air around them, before the North Star appears over the left-hand wing in a blaze of glory. When the Three Wise Men make their appearance, the angels return, and it begins to snow in a sparkling, animated flurry that covers the breadth of the house.

Beside me, Nat oohs and ahhs, curling into me with a girlish pleasure that brings me, in turn, the most simple kind of joy. This is how contentment feels, I realise. There are moments where the quickening of one’s pulse is all one wants to feel—case in point, our little rendezvous in the gym earlier. But there are also moments like this, quiet and innocent and perfect, where my soul feels healed and my mind clear.

I could sit here all night.

We watch the ten-minute cycle all the way through three times. Once we come inside, the few members of staff who work weekends will come out and watch for themselves. Toby has mulled wine simmering on the stove for them. I turn my body so I can gaze down at my girlfriend, who’s stretching in my arms. It’s cold even with a thick blanket over us.

‘Thank you so much,’ she says, throwing her arms around my neck. ‘That was amazing . Can we do it every night?’

I laugh. ‘Absolutely. And thank you for organising it. Genius idea.’

‘You’ll have to do that every year,’ she says. ‘Promise?’

I frown inwardly at her use of you , because I’m extremely clear on one thing: that this will be her project, next year and every year.

She’ll soon see.

‘Nice try,’ I say lightly. ‘You’re stuck with this job now.’

She smiles a little shyly, her eyes searching my face as if attempting to make sure I mean what she thinks I mean. Her hand comes up to my face and she scratches my beard gently with her fingernails. I lean into her touch like a cat—I love it when she does that.

‘I’m so lucky,’ she says.

I blink. ‘I’m the lucky one.’

‘Nooo. I have a boyfriend who’ll bend me over in the gym and rail the living daylights out of me and then snuggle with me in front of the actual light projection he’s bought for me. You’re a keeper, I’m telling you.’

I’m pretty sure my laugh carries the length of this entire street.