Fifty Days of Sin (19 page)

“Very funny. Anyway, shh. The
questions are starting.”

Jeremy Paxman starts the quiz,
asking a question about Latin terms in law. Not surprisingly, Adam
shouts it out and gets the answer right. “One-nil,” he grins at
me.

“I didn’t know we were going to
keep count!”

“Shh, the questions are starting
again,” he teases.

The next questions are maths and
physics based, and neither of us have a chance. Then it’s another
starter question for ten points on the Russian novelist
Dostoyevsky. I know the answer but Adam shouts it out just a second
before I can form the words.

“Two-nil!” he smiles. I poke out
my tongue at him.

“These questions are on queen
consorts of England,” continues the presenter. “I need the name of
the queen and the king she was married to.” I look around to grin
at Adam before turning my attention back to the TV. “Which queen of
England, the wife of a Tudor monarch, was beheaded after an
accusation of adultery with Thomas Culpeper?”

“Kathryn Howard, Henry the
Eighth,” I declare. “Two-one.”

“Anne Boleyn, Henry the Eighth,”
the contestants guess. Paxman puts them right and continues.

“The alleged lovers of which
thirteenth century queen are rumoured to have been executed on the
orders of her husband the king, by being hanged from her
bedposts?”

“Isabella of Angouleme, King
John!” I shout. “Two-two.”

“Philippa of Hainault, Edward
the Third?” guess the contestants and the presenter corrects
them.

“Finally, which queen, whose
husband inherited the crown of England in 1302, took Roger Mortimer
as a lover, together deposing her husband to put her son on the
throne in his place?”

“Isabella of France, Edward the
Second,” I declare, “and get it right, Paxman, Edward the Second
came to power in 1307, not 1302! Can’t you read?”

“Okay, calm down,” says Adam
with a look of amusement.

“Two-three,” I reply
triumphantly. “I’m in the lead!”

“I never knew you were so
competitive,” he mutters.

“Shh, the questions are
starting.”

We carry on like this for the
whole of the show, and eventually I have thoroughly beaten Adam
with a score of his fifteen points to my twenty eight. He switches
the TV off and I sit with a smug grin on my face.

“Don’t you want to watch
anything else? I’ve got some more of them recorded,” I suggest,
laughing.

“I’m a bit bored of TV,” he
grumbles. “I think it’s time to do something else.”

I grin at his grumpy tone.
Clearly he is regretting keeping score now. In truth, I’m pretty
astonished by my own performance after so many glasses of wine. I
must have sobered up a bit on the train. “Oh, yeah? Like what?” I
reply.

“Well, my sexy bluestocking,
let’s see if I can think of anything...” He smiles and pulls me
near to him for a kiss.

A familiar shiver of desire
courses though me as he kisses me tenderly and strokes my hair,
then gently runs his hand down to the nape of my neck to caress it.
His other hand strays to my breast and I feel my nipple become
erect as he strokes it with his thumb through the fabric of my
blouse and my bra.

He pushes me back, lying on the
sofa, still kissing and I feel the delicious weight of his lean,
muscular body on top of me. I’ve got my legs parted and he’s
between them, his erection already pressing into me, thrilling me
with the promise of what’s to come.

But despite my rising desire,
Adam stops and looks round.

“What?” I ask him.

“Your sofa is a nightmare,” he
answers ruefully. “My legs are too long for it.”

I look down at him, with his
legs sticking out over the other end, and laugh. “I see what you
mean.”

“Bed?”

“Bed sounds good.”

He leads me up the stairs and
into the bedroom. Then he faces me, all traces of his smile gone,
his grey eyes darkening.

“I’m going to have to fuck you
really hard,” he says.

“Oh...” This sounds even more
promising. “What, really really hard?”

“Yeah. Really, really hard.”
Then he’s tearing at the buttons on my blouse, pulling them open
and discarding the garment on the floor. I reciprocate, pulling his
t-shirt up and over his head as he helps me, and then we both
hastily take off our socks and jeans and Adam pulls off his boxer
shorts, standing naked and erect in front of me.

He stares as I stand in my
underwear, a very pale turquoise lacy bra and thong, and then
suddenly propels me towards the bed. I lie down and immediately
he’s on top of me, between my legs again, kissing me hard this time
and pushing the fabric of my bra cup away to access my nipple as he
kneads my breast and teases the hard nipple with his thumb.

I watch as he trails kisses down
to my chest, licking and sucking the nipple and making my clitoris
throb in an answering sensation of pleasure and need. I arch up
towards him and reach down to feel the hardness of his muscles,
enjoying every inch of his athletic body as he teases me with his
tongue. He starts to lick further down, travelling slowly south
beyond my navel and then he deftly pulls my thong down and off,
baring me to him and moving his silky wet tongue to my sex to taste
me intimately. I writhe underneath him as he licks the sensitive
bud between my legs, and I feel him slide his fingers inside me,
doubling my pleasure. Then he starts to kiss higher up again, all
the while moving inside me and using his thumb to massage my
clitoris, wet from his kissing and my own juices.

“Oh,” I groan. “Oh, Adam, I
really want you inside me.”

With his free hand, he reaches
for my bedside drawer, where he knows I store the condoms, fumbling
as he tries to find the box inside. I don’t want him to stop
touching me, so I reach out and find them myself, pulling out a
foil packet and tearing it. I throw the foil to one side and reach
down to roll the condom all the way down his impressive length.

Then I moan as he penetrates me,
pushing all the way in. He slams into me, again and again, keeping
his promise to fuck me really, really hard, pushing my thighs back
and apart to open my body to him even further. It’s so deep like
this and I can’t help but cry out with every savage movement, but I
know that Adam is nearing climax. His rhythm changes, he’s driving
into me even faster and I hardly know if I can withstand the
sensation for much longer when with one final thrust he finds his
release and stills on top of me.

I cradle him in my arms,
groaning as I return my legs to their natural position. “Wow, I
think that just goes to show that I need to spend more time in the
gym,” I grin.

“Achey legs?”

“Yes. Very achey legs.”

“Sorry.”

“No, achey legs are nice. Don’t
apologise.” I run my fingers through his hair.

He lies on his side next to me
and strokes my breasts. We stay like this, just gazing at each
other, for a while and then his leisurely caresses start to travel
down my body again. I part my legs to allow him to stroke my inner
thighs. Oh, that feels so good, and then he moves his hand,
travelling up and touching my wetness. He circles round and then
moves in and out, and I’m starting to arch up off the bed again
when he pulls out his fingers and rubs my wetness onto my
clitoris.

I close my eyes and give in to
the sensation as he skilfully touches me just how I need him to. I
moan, wanting this never to stop, and I turn my head to him,
pulling his face to mine to kiss him deeply as he gives me pleasure
with his hand. As we drink each other in, the sensation builds and
builds and at last I arch my hips as much as I can and I’m consumed
by my climax, coming sweetly and deliciously and then shuddering
and sinking back to the bed, pulling away from Adam’s kiss and
panting as I recover from my ecstasy.

“You look happy,” says Adam
after a while, stroking my hair.

“Hmm,” I agree. I look up at
him. “You too.”

“I am.”

“Surprised though,” I tell
him.

“Why are you surprised?”

“No kinkiness today. Very
unusual.”

“Oh. Disappointed?”

“No... I could hardly be
disappointed with that,” I grin. “But I do like the kinky
stuff.”

“Yes, I know you do,” he says.
“But it would have been bad timing tonight.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you just thrashed me on
the University Challenge questions. If I returned the favour by
literally thrashing you, I’d look like a really bad loser, wouldn’t
I?”

I giggle. “I suppose so. It
wasn’t my idea to keep score, though!”

“You seemed to get pretty
serious about it,” he points out.

“Ah, only once you decided to
turn it into a competition.”

Adam is quiet for a minute,
still caressing my hair. “It’s becoming quite difficult for me,
though, Justine – the kinky stuff.”

“Really? Why?”

“It goes against the grain to
hurt you so much,” he tells me. “Yes, it turns me on. There’s
something wrong with my brain, evidently, that makes me want to do
these things to you.” I open my mouth to protest but he puts a
finger on my lips to silence me, wanting to finish what he’s
saying. “But while I love doing it to you, the rational part of my
brain tells me it’s wrong, that I might go too far and hurt you too
much.”

“But I can always tell you if
there’s something I really don’t want,” I protest. “We have a
safeword, remember?”

“Doesn’t it scare you then?” he
asks, looking into my eyes, searching as if there’s a mystery to
solve deep inside me.

“Sometimes,” I admit. “But it’s
hard to describe. Although I’m nervous, afraid even, I like it. You
must realise that,” I tell him, blushing as I remember how wet he
can make me with his punishments.

“Yes, it can be quite obvious,”
he grins, trailing his hand down to my shoulder and lightly
stroking my skin. “So you want more kinky stuff then?” he asks.

“Yes,” I confirm. “I want more
kinky stuff. I like the kinky stuff.”

“Okay... in that case, I’ll have
to think of something extra special for next time.”

“I rather like the sound of
that,” I smile back at him.

“In the meantime...” he
continues, moving his hand to my breast and making my nipple harden
with his thumb, “I think I can manage a little light kinkiness.
Just to keep you interested.”

I grin as he pushes me onto my
back, then takes hold of my wrists and pulls them up above my head.
“Stay like that,” he orders me. I am only too happy to comply as I
watch him fetch one of his scarves and allow him to bind my wrists
tightly to the bed frame. He pulls the duvet away from me,
revealing my naked body to his gaze, and fixes one and then the
other ankle to the bottom of the bed, just the same as that night
at my parents’. Very deliberately, he strokes a fingertip tenderly
down from my collarbone, brushing my erect nipple, down past my
navel and lightly grazing my clitoris, making me inhale sharply and
arch up to him.

Then he opens the wardrobe and
pulls out the riding crop that he’s used on me before.

“Are you ready for your
chastisement, Justine?” he asks, a wolfish gleam in his eye.

“Yes, sir,” I answer, my heart
thumping, and as I feel his first blow sting the tender skin of my
inner thigh I strain at my bonds and feel a familiar throb of
desire in my lower belly. I look up at him, so tall, so handsome,
so powerful, in complete command of me, and I close my eyes, ready
to surrender myself once more to his will.

Friday, 8 June

It’s a rare Friday night without
Adam, but he’s away in Luxembourg on business and I won’t see him
until his return on Tuesday. It’s a girl’s night in at Hannah’s
place while Roger is away for the weekend.

We all try to get together for a
meal in a restaurant and drinks afterwards every couple of months
or so. But Kathy, ever tactful, suggested a night in. The excuse
was our increasing age – and in truth, it does sometimes get a bit
wearing going out to pubs and bars and trying to talk to each other
over the loud music. I guess that proves we really are getting near
to middle age. The real reason is that Hannah is having difficulty
finding the spare cash to fund nights out, since she’s just moved
house. It’s a nice place, spacious and modern, and it will be just
right when Hannah and Roger try for a baby. With three bedrooms,
they’ve got plenty of space for a nursery. But Roger was made
redundant recently and had a period out of work which has made
their finances tight. Luckily he’s landed a new job, but it
involves a lot of travelling, and he’s currently away for a
fortnight in India.

Although it’s lovely to see the
girls, every time I think of Adam I feel desire and anticipation
unfurl in my tummy. He promised me that he’d think of something
extra special the next time we saw each other, and that’s tomorrow
night. I can’t wait to find out what he’s got planned.

I ring the doorbell at seven
thirty, armed with a bottle of Rioja and a selection of nachos and
dips. “Ooh, lovely, thank you,” says Hannah, taking them from me,
and she ushers me into the large kitchen. An appetizing savoury
smell is wafting from the oven.

Hannah’s kitchen is decorated in
a homely way with warm wooden panels and one burnt orange wall to
contrast with the rest of the paintwork, which is a pale cream
colour. A huge abstract painting hangs on the wall opposite the
window, all bold brushwork in yellow, dark red and purple. I’ve
always loved that picture. It was a wedding present from Hannah’s
friend Heidi, who she knows from sixth form college. Heidi is now
trying to make her way in the fickle world of modern art. Melanie
and Kathy are already seated around the big wooden table.

As Hannah pours me a glass of
Merlot from a bottle that’s already open, Melanie is bemoaning her
bad luck in relationships as she sips at a vodka and Coke. It turns
out that the odd-looking but nice Carl, who I met at our Sunday
lunch, wasn’t so nice after all. “I have no idea what I’m doing
wrong,” she laments, shaking her head.