Always Alchemy: The Ever After Book (Alchemy #6)

3. Clear Your Mind

3

CLEAR YOUR MIND

NAT

‘ S o tense,’ Adam murmurs in my ear as he massages my bare shoulders.

I smile tightly and force myself to focus on the perfect pleasure of his touch. We’ve just left Darcy, Max and Dex at the Alchemy bar and come through to The Playroom to kick our evening up a notch. Now he stands behind me, his body heat radiating against my back, and my own tired body just wants to collapse against him, let him take care of me.

It’s hard, though, because my crazy brain is refusing to cooperate. Usually, I love my insane levels of motivation. I applaud them. But I’m exhausted, and I wish to God there was a switch I could flip and turn the relentless internal monologue right off.

Next door, while Max told some highly amusing story with his usual storytelling aplomb and acerbic wit, I zoned out completely. While I was stroking Adam’s thigh and laughing along with the others, I was actually cataloguing the celebrities attending Gossamer’s official launch next week, mentally listing those who’ve requested a dress, those who’ve been fitted, and those we’re still chasing.

The past two months have been a whirlwind of excitement and adrenaline and a learning curve so steep it may as well have been a vertical climbing wall with no footholds. My incredible boyfriend-slash-brand-new-investor has been as good as his word, moving me into his palatial home between Christmas and New Year’s and forcing me to relinquish every part of my job that’s “below my pay grade” (his words).

That’s a lot of tasks, it turns out. And I’m relieved beyond belief that he’s taken that stance. I’m a grafter, and my instinct is to get stuck into the hard work, like packing up our hundreds of paper patterns and orchestrating the physical move to Wright’s headquarters in Victoria.

But no. Adam has insisted that that shit isn’t a good use of my time, and he’s right, of course. Even before his investment in Gossamer was completed, he had his central HR function send me a pile of CVs, because one of our first priorities is increasing our team. For good measure, he’s had employees from other brands within the Wright ecosystem get stuck in and help Gail, Evan and Carrie with the logistical side of things.

Instead, I’ve found myself in meeting after meeting, and I’ve bloody loved it. My brain hasn’t stopped spinning for a good ten weeks now, but in a really great way. Adam wants me working on my business, not in my business, as much as possible, so I’ve met with PR companies and branding experts and artistic directors and management consultants. Neither has he wasted any time getting me in front of Omar Vega and his production team to collaborate on a concrete sustainability plan for that brand .

The sheer volume of incredible information available to me has me drunk on dopamine. Every neuron in my brain is firing on all cylinders twenty-four-seven, and I’m finding it impossible to turn off the switch. To know when enough is enough. The past few weeks, our evenings have consisted of shop talk over supper at the kitchen island or in front of the fire in the library, a warm bath or a handful of orgasms our preferred way to decompress before bed.

But Adam has quite rightly pointed out that running our businesses together requires not only serious boundaries but serious, intentional preservation of our non-work time. Otherwise, we could both quite easily do nothing but work.

This evening is an intervention of sorts. I’ve told myself I won’t relax until next week’s huge launch party is out of the way, but I’m self-aware enough to know I’ll hurtle straight onto the next challenge without pausing for breath. Tonight, we’ve come to Alchemy to see our friends and to spend intimate, important time together away from the constant bewitchment of our laptops.

When Adam Wright tells you he has a sure-fire way to clear your mind, you’d damn well better believe him.

I feel instantly more settled when he closes the door to the private room behind us.

Room Eight.

The room where he first seduced me. Where I pretended to hate every second, when really, I was a quivering, needy mess at his hands.

He always requests this room.

My boyfriend is a true romantic.

I tell myself that, anyhow, as I gaze up into those eyes of his, the black pit of his pupils swallowing up those pale blue rings. He’s already shifted into Spanky Dom mode, and suddenly the prospect of emptying my head of its to-do list and putting my body and soul into his hands feels easy. Logical.

There’s breath work, and yoga, and meditation—and there’s Adam.

He looks so damn gorgeous tonight, as always. So tall. So commanding. He’s in a black fitted shirt, top two buttons undone, sleeves rolled neatly to mid-forearm. It’s tucked neatly into his custom Tom Ford trousers, showcasing the enviable flatness of his stomach. The brushed silver buckle of his belt glints subtly, and let me tell you that his arse is a thing of such beauty in these trousers that I half wish I could compose a song to immortalise it.

He’s a walking men’s fragrance campaign, but it’s his face that gets me. Always his face. The sensitive mouth. The pale eyes. The look in those eyes as he surveys me, like he’s wondering idly what to do with me— to me, first. Boy, do I want to feel that immaculate beard scratch softly against my most sensitive body parts. I want it roughing up my nipples, abrading my pussy.

I smirk.

‘What?’ he asks softly, sliding his hand around my neck. My hair is up tonight in one of the sleek ponytails he loves. I’ve tied a black velvet ribbon around the top for a girlishly chic touch.

I shake my head. ‘Just remembering that first time in here.’

His mouth twists as his eyes soften. ‘Hard to forget.’

‘Mmm-hmm.’ I hook a coquettish finger into his waistband.

‘Let’s hope you’re a little more compliant this time, eh? ’

‘I think you’ll find me very compliant tonight,’ I purr. He grins wolfishly as the hand on my neck slides upwards to grab my ponytail.

‘This ribbon is very sweet. So innocent. Makes me want to come all over your face. I’ve been fantasising about it all evening.’

My jaw drops open before I spit out a shocked laugh. ‘Oh my God. I feel quite violated. But knock yourself out.’

‘Remember you told me I couldn’t come on your face or in your hair?’ he murmurs, eyes narrowed. ‘Well, I’m not sure you’re going to be in a position to refuse me tonight.’

My pulse quickens at the thought of him overpowering me. ‘Is that so?’

‘Yeah.’ He twists my ponytail more tightly around his fist. ‘Now, let me help you out of this dress, sweetheart. I’m going to need you very, very naked for the next part.’

‘On one condition.’ I may as well voice my wishes while I still have my autonomy. ‘I want you naked, too.’

‘Why?’ he asks with a grin.

I raise my eyebrows. Is he serious? ‘Because I can.’

‘That seems fair,’ he murmurs, tugging my head to one side with the hand fisted in my ponytail so he can drop kisses along my jaw. ‘But you go first.’

With Adam’s help, I make quick work of my dress—a fitted, strapless sheath in oyster-coloured satin that hits mid-calf and makes me feel like Lily Collins in Emily in Paris. Omar Vega pushed it on me last week, claiming it was a sample that could use a couple of fabulous outings. It’s gorgeous, and its built-in corsetry negates the need for any underwear except for a tiny cream lace thong .

No bra required (a benefit of small boobs).

My boyfriend’s expression shoots way beyond appraising to plain predatory as he holds my hand so I can step out of it. I’m left in just a pair of strappy platinum Jimmy Choos and my thong—but not for long. He lays the dress over a chair and steps towards me, looming over me as he hooks his thumbs into the sides of my thong and slides it down my legs.

When he stoops, it’s gallant enough to be at odds with the look on his face. And when he’s relieved me of it, he presses a kiss to my navel.

I stare down at him. That upturned face. Those beautiful eyes. They beseech me, and I already know I will give him everything.

I rake my fingernails through the curls at his temples, and he shudders with quiet pleasure, his eyes drifting closed for a moment.

‘Now what are you going to do with me?’ I enquire. That wolfish grin makes a swift reappearance. He gets to his feet, his palms gliding up the sides of my body as he does.

‘I’m going to make sure I get you exactly the way I want you. Get on the bed on your back, sweetheart, and starfish for me.’

I shoot him a saucy smile and do exactly as he asks, lowering myself down on the bed and stretching out, arms and legs spread wide. The room is wonderfully warm, the black satin sheets cool and sensual against my bare skin. I slide the sole of one foot over the luxurious fabric.

Adam casts me a glance that’s equal parts approving and possessive as he strolls over to the low, wide lacquered cabinet that runs along one wall. I take advantage of his back being turned to hoist myself up onto my elbows. He opens both doors and crouches, rooting inside as metal clangs on metal.

I have my suspicions about what lies ahead for me tonight, aside from the delights of Mr Wright’s twitchy palm, that is, but?—

Yep.

I was correct.

He stands and turns, triumphant, two metal bars of identical—and considerable—length in his hands. They each have what look like a pair of leather cuffs with belt buckles dangling from them.

No cheap, nasty velcro closures for the esteemed patrons of Alchemy, I suppose.

I draw in a shuddery breath, because I don’t need to rummage in the recesses of my lust-addled brain for basic geometry to predict that those bars, or poles, or whatever they are, will force my legs into a seriously wide angle.

‘Arms first,’ my boyfriend says, looking awfully pleased with himself as he puts a knee up on the bed and crouches over me. ‘Let’s make sure you stay out of mischief.’

‘Good idea,’ I tell him.

‘So obliging,’ he murmurs, focusing on the task of wrapping the soft leather cuff around one wrist and securing its buckle.

I decide not to mention that I’m obliging far more readily than I might if I didn’t know that my price for speed would be Adam undressing for me.

Oh, and lots of orgasms, presumably.

Having him restrain my legs is intense. It’s not just the inflexibility of the steel bar I’m now straddling, or the ominous hug of the leather restraints around my ankles. It’s the filthy, filthy thoughts that flit, clear as day, over my filthy, filthy boyfriend’s face as he does it, sneaking long, lascivious looks at the parts of me he’s exposing so uncompromisingly.

‘Show me,’ he orders when he’s done, nodding at my right ankle. I jerk my feet in their restraints, but there’s no give. I’m spreadeagled across the bed, and I may as well be trussed up on one of those St Andrews crosses in The Playroom that make Adam smirk each time he spots them for all the mobility I have.

‘I can’t move,’ I say, the slightest edge of panic audible in my voice.

‘Oh, but you can, little one,’ he says, grabbing the spreader bar in its centre and raising it in a smooth arc until my legs make a perfect ninety degree angle with my body. ‘Bend.’

I bend my knees as he pushes down until I’m doubled up, taut nipples brushing against my thighs. I swear to God, he looks like a kid who just found a PlayStation under the Christmas tree.

‘Entrancing,’ he murmurs. ‘That’s not sore?’

Our eyes meet, and his soften.

‘No,’ I whisper. I’m not exactly relaxed, but the tension that comes from being so clearly, so completely, in Adam’s power is as alluring as it is intimidating.

‘Excellent.’ He lowers the bar gently, stretching my legs until they lie flat on the bed, before reaching up to unbutton his shirt.

I smile.

I have no doubt watching Adam get naked while being unable to touch him will be a particular brand of torture, but I’m confident he’ll make every agonising second worth my while.

ADAM

She is a sight for sore eyes, all creamy skin and long limbs and huge doe eyes, trussed up on the spreader bars.

The most beautiful woman in the world trusts me enough to yield all her agency to me, and I’ll spend every second of tonight making it worth her while.

I undress with swift, economical movements. I have far better ways to spend the next hour than performing a striptease, no matter how titillated Nat may look right now. As I shove down my trousers and boxer briefs in one fell swoop, she bites her lip, shifting on the bed. It seems she appreciates the sight of my dick, painfully hard from the process of restraining my stunning girlfriend, jerking upwards as it’s freed.

Once I’m done undressing, I kneel up on the bed. We may both be naked, but I hold every ounce of power in my hands, and we both know it.

‘This is about clearing your mind, remember?’ I ask her, stroking my hand down one silky leg as I use the other to push the bar away from me. It, and her feet, slide over the sheets as her legs bend. ‘I won’t stop until you can’t form any words except please and more. Got it?’

‘Got it,’ she agrees, her voice gratifyingly breathy. This woman is an angel, and I’m here to serve her—tonight and every night.

‘Good girl. Safeword?’

‘Organza.’

‘Lovely.’ I use the bar to hold her legs aloft—such a handy contraption—and reach between them so I can fondle her beautiful pink cunt. God, it’s so slick. So slippery. She moans as I slide a couple of fingers inside her and stroke her clit. ‘Play with your nipples for me, sweetheart. Oh, wait. You can’t.’ I smirk.

She glares at me. ‘Seriously?’

I have a feeling she’s already forgotten about B Corps and production schedules and photo shoots.

‘Patience is a virtue.’ I twist my fingers inside her, and she moans again. ‘Remember?’

I enjoy myself for a couple of minutes. I enjoy her. I stroke and rub and twist and tease. I revel in the aroused flutter of her eyelashes, in the moue of her mouth. I revel in the flush spreading over her cheeks and down her neck and across those gorgeous little tits. I take pity on her and lean forward so I can pinch and roll those pretty, puckered nipples between my fingers. It’s impossible not to marvel at the contrast between Nat’s total acquiescence tonight and her clear conflict that very first time in this same room.

She fought her baser instincts so damn hard that night.

Tonight, she’s mine in almost every way. All that’s missing is a ring on her slender finger—an omission I’m intent on remedying as soon as we’ve got this Gossamer launch out of the way.

‘Absolutely soaked,’ I observe aloud as I work her wetness. ‘Fascinating.’

It’s basically what I said to her that very first time, when I felt compelled to be my most obnoxious self as I wound her higher. Back then, I thought daggers might fly out of her eyes. Now, she lets her eyes drift closed and gives me an agonised laugh.

‘I can’t believe you went there.’

She opens her eyes and we gaze at each other.

‘I’m as predictable as clockwork. Just like this sweet little cunt. Only this time,’ I say in a softer voice, ‘I get to kiss you.’

Her lips part as though she’s imagining it, too .

‘In a moment, sweetheart. First, you’re going to come for me as beautifully as you always do.’

I add a third finger and fuck her harder as my thumb circles her clit with a steady, relentless rhythm. While I’d love to drop my head and lap at her with my tongue, I choose instead to stay like this and enjoy this incredible view of Natalie restrained so crudely and submitting so beautifully.

All for me.

She’s getting closer, her aroused little moans growing in desperation, and it’s a wonder to behold.

I slide my fingers out and stroke her wetness down her calf.

‘What are you doing?’ Her face is outraged.

‘Just reminding you who has all the power here,’ I say smoothly.

She looks down her body at where my hand just was, where it should be. Her eyes narrow. ‘That’s a dangerous game to play, Wright.’

‘Not tonight. Not while I’ve got you like this.’

‘Orgasm denial can work both ways. And don’t forget, I can hold a grudge.’

That makes me laugh, because no one who’s aware of the extreme contempt in which Nat held me—or the idea of me—for two decades would argue with that.

‘I’ll take my chances,’ I say more blithely than I feel.

‘You’re a power-hungry dickhead, you know that?’

‘Mmm-hmm.’ I run my knuckles up her thigh, towards nirvana. Her intake of breath is exceedingly gratifying. ‘Got anything nicer to say?’

I’d like her to beg.

I’m expecting her to beg.

But, as usual, she surprises me .

‘I love you more than I could ever have imagined loving anybody,’ she says now. Her face is open and sweet, and I am a man falling into a yawning chasm of emotion and gratitude and disbelief. ‘You have every ounce of power you want over me. You know that. Nobody could ever, ever make me feel the way you make me feel. So please, darling, show me what you’re capable of. Give it to me.’

Jesus fuck.

She’s got me.

She may be the one strung up between two metal poles, but I’m the one who’s flayed wide open here.

I bend to kiss her knee before pushing the bar back further so her legs are doubled up again and wide open. ‘For that, my angel, you get everything.’

When I slide three fingers back inside her at this angle, she winces at the fullness, but she doesn’t break eye contact. We gaze at each other as I play her body like the mesmerising instrument it is.

‘I love you.’ I circle her clit, taking her in. ‘I love you so fucking much, and getting to do this is—’ I halt, clear my throat. ‘It’s every fucking fantasy I’ve ever, ever had.’

I keep talking. Keep telling her the things I need her to hear. I don’t know if it’s my words or my touch or this intense eye-fucking we’re doing that has her spiralling higher, but within moments her moans are coming more quickly and her body is arching off the bed as best it can in this position. I stroke and I jab and I watch in wonder as the woman I love falls apart at my hands.

Once she’s come down, I back away on my knees so I can lower her legs to the bed. ‘How do they feel?’ I ask her, leaning forward and stroking a hand up her stomach.

‘They’re good,’ she murmurs dazedly. I don’t want to leave her like this too long; I don’t necessarily trust her endorphin-riddled brain to accurately intercept her body’s messages right now.

‘I’ll untie you in a minute or two,’ I say, crawling over her. But I need a few moments more like this with her sated and pliant, a perfect, pale X against the black sheets. I stoop and suck gently on one perfect nipple, then the other, before trailing kisses up her neck so I can put my mouth on hers.

We kiss like this, tongues weaving and dancing, my dick jerking against her stomach as I stroke her hair, still in its ponytail.

‘I want you to come on me,’ she says as I draw away.

I grin. ‘I’m getting déjà vu.’

‘You can come everywhere this time,’ she murmurs, eyes flickering over my face, her grin growing more mischievous.

‘Yes I can,’ I agree, ‘and there’s nothing at all you can do about it, sweetheart.’ I sit back on my knees and stare down at her, taking my painfully hard cock in my hand. ‘You telling me to come on you that night was the best surprise I’ve ever had in my life.’

She rolls her eyes. I think she’s a little embarrassed. ‘Well, learning that I had precisely zero ability to withstand you was probably the worst surprise I’ve ever had—but you made it worth my while. And there was no fucking way I was going to be the only one who let themselves go.’

I crouch forward again on my knees within the triangle made by her legs and the bar, planting one palm next to her head.

‘It was pretty obvious your motives weren’t altruistic. And did I give a flying fuck? Nope.’ I arch my back so I can drag my dick over her skin and paint a line of precum across her stomach. She shivers. ‘Because I didn’t stand a chance,’ I continue. ‘Never, ever have I been so captivated by anyone. ’

I start to move my hand up and down my length, and fuck it feels glorious. If that night, a few short months and an entire lifetime of consciousness ago, was revelatory, the turning point between us, then tonight takes us full circle. We own each other, body and soul. I’ve never felt closer to her in my life.

Before me, she shimmies against the sheets. ‘I want you to fuck my mouth.’

I hesitate, caught between an instant desire to fulfil the visual she’s planted in my chimp brain and an innate chivalry. Short of biting my dick, she has zero recourse trussed up like this.

She licks her lip. ‘Seriously, honey. I need your dick in my mouth.’

‘I thought I was coming all over you,’ I protest, giving her one last out.

‘You can come anywhere you like ,’ she purrs.

Dear Lord in Heaven, save me from myself and from this woman, because God knows my self-control is down to fucking zero.

‘Jesus Christ, I love you,’ I groan, edging forward on my knees until I’m straddling her chest, hovering over her gorgeous tits. With her arms outstretched like this, I fit perfectly around her. I hold my dick out and rub it over her mouth, and her little pink tongue darts out immediately to taste it.

My girlfriend is the strongest, feistiest person I know, especially around me. That she’s let me tie her up and spread her out, all so I can stick my dick down her throat, has waves of awe and love and desire coursing over me, and it’s all so fucking potent.

I feed my cock down her throat, slowly enough that she can accommodate it and that I can feel every single inch of wet warmth enveloping it. As I bottom out, she swallows purposefully, and the impossible pleasure of her throat constricting around my sensitive, swollen crown has me shutting my eyes in bliss.

When I open them and stare down at her, she nods as best she can. Her green light to me.

I don’t need to be told twice.

I reach down and cup her jaw with one hand, caressing her as I feed her my dick over and over. Below me, her little candy-pink nipples dazzle me. Before me, her outstretched arms and wide eyes enrapture me. And around me, her clever, sensual mouth works me and works me, and I thrust and thrust until there’s saliva running down her cheeks and tears in her eyes.

In a matter of days, this woman will be professionally made up, dressed in demi-couture as she greets her guests and formally launches herself as the next British luxury designer to watch. That I’m the only person on the planet who gets to see her like this has my head spinning and my blood coursing through my veins like a wild thing.

‘Fuck, that’s—’ I groan, as incapable of full sentences as I am of withdrawing at this point. ‘You okay, sweetheart?’ I manage.

She gives me the tiniest nod and a small mmph of affirmation. She sounds outraged that I should question her commitment to this act.

I grin. ‘That’s my girl.’ I shake my head, gritting the words out with difficulty as I hang the hell on. ‘So fucking good. You’re so fucking good. As soon as I’ve shot my load, I’m going to untie you and flip you over and spank that little pink bottom as I fuck you. You hear that?’

She closes her eyes for a moment, like it’s too much to even fathom, and a small tear slides over her temple. I reach up and wipe it away, even as I continue to fuck her mouth.

God. It’s too good. I’m?—

‘Christ.’

As my orgasm engulfs me, I let rip with a volley of tense, jerky movements, shuddering as I fill her mouth with my cum. She makes a gagging sound, throat closing around me once again, and the combination has my soul vaulting through the roof of this room, this building, into the bleak London night. I am unleashed and unmoored, soaring through infinite realms of pleasure as I release every last drop.

When I’m spent and gliding back to earth, I slide my dick from Natalie’s mouth, staring down at her in wonder.

She stares back up at me, those huge brown eyes still tear-filled from the face-fucking she’s endured. She swallows, her pale throat working, and licks her lips as I smooth the escapee bodily fluids from her cheek.

Then she smiles up at me and says breathlessly: ‘ Now you spank me.’