Adam
I never expected her to take to the things I like as easily and as quickly as she has. She is a natural; knowing her likes and dislikes, unafraid to tell me.
I moved into the Gladstone house a few days after Roxie, letting her calm the air, as it were, before settling, but I did bring the things she asked me to. My things are in a separate room, but we come together each night, to explore one another more closely, more intensely, than before.
Geoff is doing well, and is seemingly pleased to have me around, after all. We stay up, talking, myself drinking beer, Geoff drinking some pungent tea Roxie has brewed for him, having read somewhere that it’s good for the heart. Geoff drinks it without complaint, not wanting to disappoint her. I catch snippets of his conversations with her, when he thinks I’m not around, and though it sets me back a little, it does not stop me hurrying to Roxie’s room each night, from the pool-house where I have been relegated to.
‘You need to find someone your own age, Roxie,’ I hear Geoff tell Roxie, one evening, as I am coming in from taking out the bins. I stand by the wall, eavesdropping, out of sight.
‘What does his age matter,’ she insists. ‘We care about each other – I’m happy, Dad. Doesn’t that count for something?’
Geoff sighs. ‘Of course I want you to be happy, Roxie – I just don’t think it’s right. He’s closer to my age.’
‘Grandma and Grandad have twenty years between them,’ Roxie says, indignant.
‘Yes, but that doesn’t mean you have to,’ Geoff counters.
‘I care for him, Dad, and he cares for me,’ she says.
‘How can you be sure?’
‘I just know,’ she replies, a little curtly.
‘You’re a young woman, with so much ahead of you – you’re only twenty-one for God’s sake, and I’m just worried he’ll hold you back, drag you into some glum domestic life. He has been married once before, and has lived so much more life than you have – you’re still so young,’ Geoff says, his arguments getting a touch confused.’
‘So what if he has been married before. I don’t care,’ Roxie says. ‘I only know that I care about him – he’s good for me, Dad,’ she promises.
‘I just don’t want you to throw your life away for him,’ Geoff sighs.
‘I won’t, Dad. Adam is very supportive – he loves my sketches, and he is good to me. He’d never let me do that, I know he wouldn’t,’ she says, and the sound of her words makes me smile, knowing them to be true.
There is a silence, and I take my moment to step back into the kitchen. They look at me guiltily, but I pretend I haven’t heard a thing, as I go over to the big fridge at the far side and open it up, looking keenly inside.
‘So, what delicious meal shall we have tonight? How does lasagne sound? Low fat, of course,’ I laugh, casting my glance back at Geoff, who lowers his gaze shamefacedly.
‘Lasagne sounds wonderful,’ Roxie says, as she wanders over to where I am standing and wraps her arms about my waist. I wait for Geoff’s remark of distaste, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he watches us as we move about the kitchen, passing things and getting things from the drawers, a puzzled look on his face as he examines the way we are together. I pour her a glass of wine before my own, passing it with a grin, and I see a small smile play at the corner of his lips, as if remembering a time when he might have done the same with the woman he loved.
We eat and drink outside on the terrace by the pool, and laugh and joke together, telling old stories and discussing Roxie’s artwork; if she might go full-time sketching, now that she is back home. I squeeze her hand encouragingly, telling Geoff how beautiful some of her artwork is. He trusts my judgment, given my past history in the art business, and I say I might have some contacts still, if she had enough to send to them, to view a portfolio of sorts. Her face lights up when I say this, and I watch Geoff’s face soften, that same bemusement casting over his eyes as he looks at the pair of us, healthy and happy in the evening light.
Geoff goes to bed shortly after dinner, the day having taken it out of him, but Roxie and I stay outside a while longer, sitting side by side on the pool’s edge, our feet dangling in the tepid water.
As he is leaving, he turns in the doorway, a curious look on his face. ‘Have fun, you two,’ he smiles, tapping his hand against the doorframe. ‘Goodnight.’
We wish him a goodnight, and watch as he turns to go, wondering if it means what we hope it means – that he is finally coming around to what we are. When he has gone, I kiss her neck gently, sweeping her hair aside. I kiss along the length of her jaw and upwards, to her mouth, which meets mine passionately, her arms lacing about my neck as we embrace.
It isn’t far to the pool-house, as we burst through the door and onto the rug in the sitting room. I jump up quickly, shutting the curtains; the last thing I want is Geoff catching sight of us.
She sits astride me, pulling me up to kiss her as I hold her, feeling her grind against my hardening cock. It doesn’t take much, around Roxie; the very sight of her gets me hard. I hold her by the wrists with one hand, moving them behind her to restrain her lightly as I pull her face down to me, to kiss her hard on the mouth. She smiles against my lips.
One of the curtain ties has fallen off, and lies a short distance away. I lean over, kissing her passionately, and take the tie in my hands. She bites my lip as she feels me snake the soft, silken fabric around her wrists, and pull it into a loose knot, and the jolt of pain makes me gasp in delight. I pick her up, her legs tight around my waist, and carry her over to the staircase, securing her hands to one of the bars sticking up from the steps, fastening her there, her hands above her head. She looks beautiful, her body stretched out and taut, as I lift her navy tank top and use it to fasten her hands more firmly to the banister. To my delight, she isn’t wearing a bra, her naked torso bathed in the golden glow of the evening sunset, as I pull down her skirt and knickers, then removing each flip flop carefully, kissing her ankles as I do so. I stand back, admiring my handiwork, as she stands there, completely nude, her eyes beckoning me as she licks her lips.
There is a small bag of my things, still by the front door of the pool-house, and I go for them, pausing beside one of the small pillar candles, which I bring and set on one of the steps, just beside Roxie. She leans to kiss my neck, straining against her ties to get at me.
I pick up the candle and light it, the flame flickering in Roxie’s blue eyes as she stares, mesmerised, into the dancing orange glow.
‘How do you feel about hot wax?’ I whisper.
‘Good,’ she growls against my neck.
I wait until a small pool of the hot wax has collected in the reservoir of melted wax at the top, and tip it gently onto her skin, testing the boundaries. She gasps, biting her lip.
‘Good?’ I ask.
‘Yes,’ she whispers, as I tip another stream between the bare skin of her breasts. She cries out, her hips bucking, her foot running up the inside of my thigh, pulling against the restraints. I feel the impulse to grab her and fuck her as I see the wax cooling against her skin, the same way her skin looks when I pull out, coming on her, when she asks me to. I fight it, wanting to take my time.
I see what I have left in my bag, that isn’t hidden away in the drawers of Roxie’s bedroom. There is barely anything, but I can work with it, I decide, pulling out a small bullet vibrator. I walk up to Roxie and press the button on the vibrator, smoothing it over her nipples, and tracing it down her stomach, teasing her as I reach the most sensitive part of her, circling her clit deliberately, but never touching it – bringing her to the edge. She whimpers, eyes closed, back arched, hips bucking, trying to get a purchase on the vibrator by moving her own body, but I am too quick for her, moving it away.
‘Tease,’ she breathes, sultry and breathless.
‘I thought that’s what you liked,’ I smile, kissing her shoulder, raking me teeth across her skin.
‘It is,’ she grins.
I pull my t-shirt up over my head and throw it to the floor, unbuttoning my jeans and pulling the brown leather belt from the loops.
‘Can I hit you with this?’ I ask.
She nods. ‘So long as it’s not too hard,’ she gasps, her anticipation intensifying every sensation.
I fold up the length of it, testing it against the palm of my hand. She arches her back at the sound of it against my skin, encouraging me. I move close to her again, my hands about her waist, feeling her naked skin against mine, and turn her around slowly, so her body is facing the staircase.
‘Ready?’ I ask, as she tenses.
‘Ready,’ she says.
I whip the belt against her backside, and hear her cry out. There is a small red mark across the pale, smooth skin of her ass, but it is not a lasting one.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask, coming up behind her and holding her to me.
‘I’m good,’ she whispers, tilting her head so I can kiss the slender curve of her neck. It is her action when she enjoys something, letting me know it’s truly okay.
‘Can I hit you again?’ I ask, wishing there was another term for ‘hit’.
She nods. ‘Please.’
I prepare the belt, and smack it lightly across her ass. She gasps, bucking once more against her restraints, bending at the waist, exposing herself to me. I have to push down the impulse again, my cock hard and ready for her, as I lash the belt across her ass once more, a little harder.
‘Again,’ she begs, and I oblige, smacking her across the backside, until she whispers for me to fuck her. ‘I want you, Adam – I want you,’ she says, twisting against her restraints until she is facing me again.
I slip out of my jeans and boxers, and place the belt on the floor beside them, as I move towards Roxie. Her eyes are bright and glistening with desire, her hips grinding against me, as I pick her up, her legs tight around me and reach down, sliding my cock inside the wet, hot warmth of her pussy. She throws her head back, a guttural moan in her throat, as I pull out and thrust back in, as she grinds against me, feeling the friction on her clit. I grab the bullet vibrator from the step and rest it against her, as she arches her back, moving wildly in my arms as I stroke the vibrator over her clit, circling it, bringing her to her first orgasm as I thrust hard inside her.
I feel her shuddering around me, the pull of her muscles tight against my cock, and I almost come myself, but hold back a while longer, as I set her down and undo the restraints, freeing her hands to touch me as we fall to the floor, and she sits astride me, grinding forwards and backwards, as I replace the vibrator with my fingers, knowing she gets sensitive after coming with one. She grips my chest as she rocks back and forth, and I move up to meet her, flipping her onto her back, her hands in my hair, her lips passionate on mine, as I fuck her faster.
‘Come for me,’ she whispers, as my fingers bring her close to her second orgasm.
‘Are you close?’ I ask.
She nods.
I feel my own orgasm coming close, as I thrust in and out, the friction of her tight, wet pussy feeling unbelievably good, as I feel her body tighten. It brings me over the edge, and I feel myself orgasm, hard, as my cock pulses inside her.
We lie for a while in the sunset glow, talking about nothing and everything.
‘Do you think he’ll ever get used to us?’ I ask, entwining my fingers with hers.
‘I hope so,’ she smiles.
‘Me too,’ I say, kissing her deeply.
‘I think he’s starting to come round to the idea,’ she adds.
‘You think?’
‘The way he was at dinner – he kept looking at us funny. I reckon it might be progress. Plus, he said when you were out in the pantry, fetching another bottle of wine … he said that I seemed happy; that he knew I hadn’t been happy in a long time, since Mum died. He said it was good to see me smile again, and I said that was because of you. I think he struggled to admit it, but he said ‘I know it is’ just before you came back in,’ she explains, propping herself up on her elbows. ‘That’s why we were hugging when you came back in – I think it might have been the closest to a seal of approval we’re likely to get,’ she smiles, her face natural and beautiful, wide-eyed with her open honesty, and I can’t believe my luck. I thought I was past all this – all hope of love. Apparently not. I don’t know if her pantry story is true, but she is no liar, certainly not to spare my feelings. Her face is the most honest thing in the world, telling me all I need to know.
‘I noticed it too,’ I say, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face.
‘Adam?’
‘Yes,’ I mumble.
‘I think I love you,’ she says, nervous, her face taking on an innocence I adore.
‘I think I love you too,’ I say, kissing her.