“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.
I see a silver-haired head appear below, its owner’s back to us. Adair unleashes her loudest moan yet, and I clamp my palm over her mouth in desperation. I can hardly think, and the distant, still-rational part of my brain screams that it’s a bad idea.
I don’t care.
I kick away the tile propping the door before the figure on the stairs rounds to where he will see us, and slide against the far side of it. We’re all in now.
Adair’s orgasm echoes through the grounds, mixed with the finishing strains of another carol. Mine follows just after, pulling every last bit of heat out of my body and syncing with the shivers I’ve managed to ignore so far.
A sharp rap on the door jolts us back to reality. I set Adair back on her feet and, keeping my weight against the door, furiously clasp my pants.
Another rap follows, this time accompanied with, “Adair?”
Adair’s nervous look is replaced with relief.
“Felix,” she whispers.
Thank god. If it had been her father…
We step back from the door when we hear the old butler try the knob. It opens slowly, and—although it’s stupid to even try—we pretend as if we were simply taking in the performance from above.
He scarcely bothers looking at me, although he definitely sees me. Instead, he addresses Adair. “The performance will conclude soon. You’ll be missed if you don’t return now.”
“Thank you, Felix,” Adair says, the crimson of her cheeks betraying the evenness of her tone.
Had she arranged it with him? Or is he simply so good at his job he always knows where his charges are? It’s impossible to tell by judging his expression. I suppose a good poker face is something of a job requirement for butlers.
Adair takes me by the hand and leads me down the stairs. We arrive back in the atrium half-frozen, and thankfully all eyes are on the final flourish of the choir’s performance of O Holy Night.
Adair spends the next twenty or so minutes making small talk with people, accepting their condolences for her loss, or hearing how proud of the job Adair has done on the party would make her mother. Her spirit, completely revived by our tryst on the roof, begins to dim
