BOOK 3: Chapter 26: Home Office Intrusion

BOOK 3: Chapter 26: Home Office Intrusion

Nothing else seems to matter anymore as Adrian continues to slam hard and pound deep into her, completely unconcerned with the call from his grandmother still echoing through the phone speaker. It doesn't matter to Amanda anymore either. She lets the phone slip from her trembling fingers, dropping it carelessly on the kitchen counter, and wraps her arms tightly around Adrian’s neck, her entire body shivering uncontrollably. The only thing she can feel is the overwhelming lust. The maddening desire howling between them. Their moans and gasps collide in the air like heat lightning, voices rising, echoing through the kitchen, trying in vain to contain the sheer, obliterating pleasure.

Adrian grips her tightly, his hands roaming possessively, squeezing her enormous, soft ass as he slams into her with reckless, obscene force. Her breasts press flush against his chest, slick and quivering with every thrust. The wet, relentless clapping of their bodies fills the kitchen—sharp, unfiltered, shameless. The sound of sex, violent and hungry and out of control.

He doesn’t care that Amanda’s phone is still connected. He doesn’t care that his grandmother might be hearing every lewd detail of what's happening. Amanda doesn’t either. She’s far, far gone, her thoughts reduced to static, her body clinging to Adrian like he’s the last thing anchoring her to this earth. Her nails dig into his back, sharp and red, as she arches under him, her eyes rolling back, the whites flashing as she shakes violently beneath each brutal, perfect thrust.

On the counter, the phone crackles with her mother-in-law’s voice, now raised in panic.

“Amanda? Amanda, what the hell is going on over there?! I hear something—some sounds I don’t like. Is someone there with you?! Amanda, answer me right now. If you’re in trouble, I swear, I will come rescue you. Don’t tell me you’re doing something you shouldn’t be doing!”

But Amanda doesn’t hear her. Not really. She’s too far gone in that spiraling galaxy of orgasmic heat and desperate need. Adrian chuckles darkly into her ear.

“Do you have any idea,” he whispers, licking her earlobe, “how fucking hot you look when you’re moaning like that?”

His hips slam into her again, mercilessly, pounding her like he’s trying to disassemble her from the inside out. She’s crying out, every breath a gasp, every sound ripped from her throat as her orgasm explodes through her, sweeping her into blank, blinding white.

She lets go of Adrian, falling back flat onto the kitchen counter, her back arched like a bowstring. Adrian’s hands clamp down on her waist, holding her in place as he hammers into her, relentless, his pace increasing even as she convulses beneath him, twitching and gasping, her breasts bouncing wildly with every thrust.

He yanks the other strap of her gown off her shoulder, freeing both breasts completely. He groans and grabs them, squeezing, kneading, pulling at them while his other hand locks against her shoulder to pin her down. His hips piston forward with sharp, savage jerks, the sound of skin slapping skin now deafening. Amanda’s face contorts, her lips parted, her eyes fluttering as he drives her to the brink of delirium.

Her mother-in-law is still yelling from the phone. “Amanda?! Amanda, answer me—what’s happening?!”

Adrian snarls with irritation, then leans forward and taps the screen with one hand, ending the call. “I can’t take this nagging shit anymore,” he mutters, voice thick with lust.

Then he grabs her throat again, not enough to cut her breath, but just enough to remind her that she’s his, and starts thrusting harder. They stay locked in that brutal rhythm, him pounding into her like a man possessed. Ten minutes. Fifteen. The table groans beneath them. Her entire body is soaked, her thighs trembling, her pussy twitching as each orgasm bleeds into the next.

Then her phone rings again.

Adrian doesn’t slow. He doesn’t pause. He glances at the screen—his jaw tightens. “It’s my dad.”

Amanda’s eyes flutter open, dazed. “W-what?” she gasps.

Adrian picks up the phone and presses it to her ear. “Pick up. Stay neutral. He can’t know what’s happening in here,” he growls, still fucking her mercilessly.

Amanda, still trembling violently, answers with a weak, “Hello?”

Greg’s voice is sharp, alarmed. “Amanda? What the hell is going on? My mom just called me. She says she heard some strange things on the phone—says it sounded like someone else was with you. What the fuck is happening? Are you being attacked?”

Adrian doesn’t let up. He slams in deep, the head of his cock smashing against her cervix, forcing Amanda to arch backward with a broken cry. Her whole body convulses. Her lips part, her breath comes out in shallow pants.

“N-no,” she stammers, “everything’s okay, Greg. I promise.”

“You don’t sound good,” he says.

She laughs shakily, completely out of breath, still floating in a sea of pleasure. “Everything’s fine, Greg. I was just… playing a little game with Adrian.”

Adrian’s eyes flash with wicked amusement.

“You were right,” she continues breathlessly. “He really is a pain in the ass, just like you said. It’s so hard to pin him down. Not helping that he’s all grown up now…”

Greg’s voice softens a bit, his concern slipping into a resigned sigh. “Yeah, I told you. Honestly, I should’ve taken him with me. Kid’s a handful.”

Adrian growls low in his throat, grips Amanda’s waist with both hands, and lifts her off the counter. “Let’s make this more interesting, shall we?” he murmurs into her ear.

He carries her out of the kitchen, down the hallway, still buried inside her. They reach his father’s study. He kicks the door open, steps inside, and shuts it quietly behind them. The heavy door seals them into a world of dark wood, leather, and secret filth.

He strides up to the grand reading table and bends her over it, shoving aside papers and books as Amanda lifts the phone again.

“Everything is fine, Greg,” she says, but just as the words leave her mouth, Adrian slaps her ass, hard. She yelps.

Greg’s voice rises again. “What was that?! Amanda, are you hurt?”

She winces, chuckles nervously, drunk on ecstasy. “I stepped on… something sharp. A tack. But Adrian’s helping. First aid kit’s right here. Don’t worry so much. I’m fine, okay? Your mom just got a little carried away. She heard something and jumped to conclusions.”

Adrian bends over her, admiring the view of her huge, jiggling ass. “So fucking sexy,” he breathes.

He massages her cheeks, teasing her for a moment, then plunges into her again with brutal force. She gasps and pitches forward, her forehead hitting the desk as her hands scramble for purchase. He leans over her, tracing his fingers down her back, reaching beneath her to cup her bouncing breasts, kneading them from behind.

He lifts her slightly, her back arching into him. One hand grips her jaw while the other wraps around her waist. He slams into her from behind, hips crashing into her ass with loud, wet slaps. Her cries are muffled, but she can’t stop them. The phone is still against her ear.

“Oh my God…” she accidentally whispers.

Greg catches it. “Amanda? What did you just say?”

She laughs again, too breathless, too gone. “Nothing! Just… slipped. Don’t worry. Everything’s fine.”

Greg exhales. “I don’t like how you sound. But whatever. I’ve wrapped things up here. I’ll be home soon. Then we’ll go on that trip I promised. Okay?”

Amanda nods rapidly. “Yes. Yes, I’d love that.”

All she wants is for him to hang up. She needs to stop pretending. She’s going insane.

Adrian must sense it. He smirks and picks up his pace, his cock slamming into her again and again, the sound of their wet bodies echoing around the study like thunder.

Then he bends her back over the table, grabs her shoulders, and pounds her harder, deeper. “Let’s see how long you last,” he growls.

Greg continues talking, but Amanda’s done pretending. She doesn’t wait. She ends the call with one trembling finger, tosses the phone onto the table, and screams.

Finally.

No more lies. No more pretending.

Her hands clutch the edge of the table as Adrian drills into her, merciless, pounding with such force the entire desk rattles beneath them. Amanda’s voice rises, echoing wildly in the room. Adrian holds her firm, watching her collapse under the weight of her fifth orgasm, her body convulsing, twitching, sobbing against the wood.

Her pussy clamps down on him with savage intensity, drawing a growl from his throat. He grits his teeth, trying to hold back—but it’s useless. She’s too tight. Too wet. Too perfect.

With one final, brutal thrust, he plunges deep and lets go.

They cry out together, voices tangled in violent harmony. He slams into her, cursing, as his orgasm rips through him. Her walls clench and pulse around him, milking him with trembling force.

He collapses onto her, chest heaving, drenched in sweat, as they both fight to breathe, to recover, to remember where they are.

There’s nothing left but ragged breath, slick skin, and the echo of their sins vibrating through the mahogany walls.