Page 28 of Always Alchemy

I continue my perving, dragging my eyes down his glorious body. He’s in great shape for someone who’s celebrated his half-century. When he’s in London, he has a weights-heavy PT session three times a week before work at his home gym and favours lunchtime runs, his preferred loop being around Green Park and St James’ Park, though he treats these more as stress management than workouts.

Whatever he’s doing, it works. He has the stamina of a man half his age.

Especially in bed.

I snag my lower lip between my teeth as I survey the masterpiece in front of me. I’m practically drooling. He’s in one of his many pairs of Orlebar Brown swim shorts today—the ones printed with Slim Aaron’s iconic photograph of the pool at Anton’s favourite place, Eden Roc. The blues and whites look fantastic against his skin, but I’m far more interested in what lies beneath.

He’smine.

The realisation hits me once again with force. I’m not sure if or when I’ll ever stop being bowled over by it. We’ve fucked so much, but it’s these moments of quiet intimacy that feel like the real indulgence.

I can’t get enough of them.

I could never, ever tire of being like this with Anton. Quiet. Peaceful.Intimate. He shows the world his fierce side. I’ve never met anyone who isonso much of the time. And, at the start, that fierceness was all he showed me, too.

That our relationship has shifted tothisis probably the greatest gift he could have given me.

Later this afternoon, we’ll travel into town to act as witnesses for Max’s civil wedding to Dex, and tomorrow, we’ll make the mile-or-so journey to the Hôtel du Cap Eden Roc for the main event: watching my sister marry the loves of her life. There will be much merriment and feasting and dancing, and it will be fan-fucking-tastic, of that I have no doubt.

But for the next hour or so, it’s me and my husband and birdsong and sunlight on water, and I’m determined to savour every moment.

I scoot closer to him and lay my head on his chest, throwing my leg over his hairy thighs and trailing my knuckles over the sun-warmed skin of his flat stomach and the line of soft hair that intersects it. His shorts are damp, but his skin is dry. He shifts in his sleep, making a low, sleepy noise of pleasure before extricating one arm so he can wrap it tightly around me.

His heart beats evenly against my ear. I’m cocooned in this paradise that is proximity to Anton. I’m happy in a most un-Gen-like way: deliriously. Head-spinningly. I turn my head so I can kiss the smattering of dark hair on his chest. He has one or two greys, and I like that. It’s distinguished.

‘I love you,’ I whisper against his skin.I love you so much it’s terrifying.

I feel blindly for the fastener at the top of his shorts and flick it open before taking care of his zip. I will give this man everything I have. I will let him bleed me dry. I have never in my life been so unfailingly focused on the happiness and pleasure of another human being before.

And I know for a fact this will bring him both happinessandpleasure.

I slide my hand down through his open shorts and find, with gratification, that he’s already hardening.

Excellent.

I tug myself out of his grasp so I can kiss a path between his pecs and down his stomach as I find his balls. He shifts again and groans in pleasure.

Yep.

Thought that might wake him up.

Then I’m rearing up on my knees and making my way down the bed so I can tug his shorts off. He reaches for a throw pillow and wedges it under his head so he can survey me with sleepy interest.

‘Get that off,’ he says with a dirty look at my one-piece, and I laugh.

‘Certainly.’

It’s just the two of us here. Anton sent Céd and Jean-Jacques home after lunch. They get a lot of time off these days, which works for everyone.

Because now I can play with my man however I want.

I take off my swimming costume and kneel, naked, between Anton’s legs. He’s fully hard now, precum beading at the tip of his dick. If I didn’t know him, I’d suspect he had a secret Viagra stash. He’s ridiculous.

His dick is standing to attention, and I cup my breasts and lean forward so I can envelop his length in their pillowy softness for a moment as I stick my tongue out far enough to lick his slit. I don’t have any lube, so this is just a warm-up, but I know the sight of his dick trapped between my breasts will drive Anton wild.

Sure enough, his expression goes feral. ‘Fuck,’ he hisses. ‘Look at you. Jesus, sweetheart. Work it.’

I slide him up and down against my skin a couple of times, but there’s not enough lubrication, so I wrap my hand tightly around his rock-hard shaft instead and run my lips and tongue over his swollen, leaking tip.

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