Free Christopher's Medal by S.A. Laybourn Page A

table. People were nodding over their ports, some yawned hugely and one or two were still blearily working their way through their drinks.
    “I think you’re right there.”
    “All right, ladies and gentlemen, drinks in the drawing room.” Emma, her cheeks flushed, stood by the door.
    “Thank Christ for that.” Christopher held Grace’s chair for her. She shivered when he kissed the back of her neck. “Let’s get out of here.”
    Grace was aware of Pippa’s sullen stare when they followed the other guests into the broad, shadowy hall then broke away toward the stairs.
    Christopher didn’t speak as they hurried along the upstairs corridor. The heat in his touch when he took her hand outside the bedroom door told Grace all she needed and wanted to know.
    “I’ve wanted to get back here for hours.” He closed the door behind them, locked it and kicked off his shoes. “What a fucking dreadful evening. I’m so sorry, Grace.”
    Grace sank onto the bed and toed her shoes away. “It was pretty awful.” She watched Christopher unbutton his shirt and let it slip to the floor. She stopped thinking about the awfulness of the evening and wanting to thump Pippa and enjoyed the sight of Christopher stepping away from the pile of clothes pooled around his feet.
    He grinned at her. “Your turn now.”
    Grace rose and shimmied out of her dress, leaving it in a soft heap on the carpet. She shucked her underwear in short order, letting the bra dangle from her fingertip before dropping it onto the dress. “Better?”
    “Oh, Christ, yes, much better. Much, much better.”
    “Now what?” Moisture pooled between Grace’s legs. She sat on the edge of the bed and held out her arms.
    “Now I make it up to you, make you forget what a fucking nightmare tonight was. Now I intend to shag you senseless.” Christopher stood before her, his erection a magnet for her gaze.
    Grace shuffled back toward the headboard, never taking her eyes off the prize, her reward for putting up with Pippa and the endless dinner. “That’s the least you can do, soldier boy.”
    He laughed. “You make those two words sound so utterly…filthy.”
    “That’s the idea.” Grace braced herself for impact, desperate for him, scared by how relentlessly she wanted him.
    Christopher crawled up the mattress. “It’s a good thing I remembered the condoms, isn’t it.” He paused and reached for his wallet, where he’d left it on the bedside table. Then he sat back on his heels and scattered half a dozen foil packets across the coverlet. “I think we’re set, don’t you?”
    Grace bit her lip. Her pussy ached, needing him. “Yes. I think we are.” She reached for one of the packets then tore it open. “Let’s start with this one, shall we?”
    He grinned. “An excellent choice, Miss Webb. Perhaps you would do the honors?”
    “It would be my pleasure, sir.” She sat up and moved toward Christopher on her hands and knees. The soft linen of the duvet whispered beneath her. Her hand trembled when she unrolled the condom over his cock. She calmed herself by smoothing it down, rewarded by a muffled gasp from Christopher.
    “Thank you, Grace.” He eased her back onto the yielding mattress. “Thank you for…you.”
    Grace welcomed his weight, and the sudden insistent push of his dick against her throbbing pussy. The entire evening had been a tortuous form of foreplay, Christopher’s subtle touches, his scent, his voice all served as an aphrodisiac far more powerful than any old wives’ remedies. She rose to his touch, letting him in, loving the depth of his sigh, the way he moved his lips over hers. He was all heat and slowness, like the port they were probably missing downstairs.
    She inhaled the lingering scent of his cologne and beneath, the milky sweetness of his skin, already as familiar as her own. Her body met his, welcoming him as he thrust into her, driving to her core, raising the temperature. Grace curled her fingers into his tousled