Page 89 of Backlash

A blast of cold air whistles loudly through the opening, and I hear the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs below us, although it’s impossible to tell if the person is coming all the way up. Adair pulls us through the door and onto a small, flat section of roof overlooking the atrium below. The door catches the wind and begins to slam shut, but I’m able to grab the knob in time.

It’s lucky I did, as I notice the door is designed to stay locked from the outside. I don’t relish the thought of yelling down to the party below for someone to let us in. I spot a piece of broken roof tile near the door and prop it open so we can get back in.

When I turn back to Adair, I can see how cold she is, so I take off my jacket and throw it around her shoulders again. “That better, Lucky?”

“A little.” She says, teeth chattering. A wicked grin lights her face. “I’m afraid it will take all your skill to keep me warm.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I reply, drawing her close to me.

Below us, the carol ends to a round of applause. Golden light spills from the hundreds of glass panes that form the walls of the atrium, bathing the grounds in a warm glow. It’s so much darker outside than inside that I know there’s no chance of anyone below seeing us.

“I’m getting cold,” Adair says with a pout, and I feel her hands unclasp my suit pants.

My need takes over as I spin Adair around, pulling up the hem of her skirt and bending her over the half-wall overlooking the party below. The sight of her perfect ass greets me, and I can feel myself grow hard.

“Jesus, Lucky. No panties?”

It takes a second for the implications to fully register. She planned this all along.

I’ve never seen a woman wear a garter before. Very sexy. A garter and no panties, though? It’s the promise of heaven itself.

She shoots me a feline grin. “Do you have a condom?”

My cock bursts out of my boxers, pointing the way. It takes a few seconds for my rapidly freezing hands to pull the condom from my wallet and get it on. I quickly slide into position, and when I bump into her sex, her body flinches and her mouth emits a moan that’s almost a purr. Her body shivers in the cold, quivers in anticipation. When I make my first thrust, her body immediately stops shaking, and suddenly we’re both warm enough.

I thrust into her, pinning her against the low wall.

“I’m going to have you screaming by the time we’re done,” I promise as I crash into her again and again. “The police will come. Everyone will know.”

“Worth—Uhhh—it,” she sobs around my thrusts.

My words are a self-fulfilling prophecy. She grows louder with every thrust until I really do begin to worry the people below will hear us. The carol changes from We Wish You A Merry Christmas, to a soft, quiet rendition of Silent Night. I match pace with the song.

“No, don’t slow down,” she demands.

I reach around to the front of her hips and my fingertips find her clit.

“Ohhhhhhh.” The syllable rips through the air, discordant with the music below.

I pull back, and her next sound is full of deflated longing. I spin her around and lift her off the ground, placing her hips above mine. Her arms fumble with the fabric of her dress, attempting to get it out of the way. She leans back too far, and I struggle to keep her from falling. I stumble towards the broad wall next to the door, and we crash into it, too cold—and too hot—to care.

Her hips are beyond her ability to control them. They dart downwards again and again, trying to find their home. When at last she crashes down onto me, her moans become shrill gasps. She pushes my lips towards her cleavage, which looks as perfect as new-fallen snow.

“Harder,” she pants.

My thrusts send shockwaves across her body and more long, low moans out of her mouth.

Some distant part of my brain must still be functioning normally, because I eventually recognize the sound of footsteps on the stairs below us. Probably a member of the wait staff headed to the atrium. But when the number of footfalls hits twenty, I know someone is on their way to us.

“Someone’s coming,” I say, slowing down.

“Don’t care,” she says, her hips goading me to return to our previous pace.

Dammit.

I double my pace, desperate to reach our climax before it’s ruined.

“Ahh. Ahh. Ahh.” Adair repeats the sound again and again. Whoever is on the stairs can definitely hear us.