Epilogue
__________
Anya
Something must be done.
The closer Christmas got, the longer he stuck by her side, watching her like she’d vaporize if he blinked. If she was still living in her apartment, then it’d be easier to brush it off. However, Alessio had packed up most of her things and moved her into his home in a more upscale, quiet neighborhood.
He said they lived together before, so there wasn’t a difference this time. She kept the apartment for days when they needed space to rewind in solitude. He was adamant he didn’t need space but compliantly paid for the rest of the year’s apartment rent upfront.
His house was big enough for him to be in the shower, a bubble bath she made for him to relax, and he did not notice her leaving for ten minutes. She then returned and took a shower in the other bathroom.
“Where did you go?”
She blinked in surprise as he asked with such an unmasked, accusatory tone in his voice. The phone in his hand flashed black, but she caught a glimpse of the security camera feed from the front door.
Her lips refused to stop quivering as she stepped into the conversation pit, a strange name for a sunken living room space filled with soft pillows.
She ran a hand through his velvety hair, noticing their scents were from the same line of shampoo and body wash. Her heart fluttered, not from guilt-ridden anxiety when he stared at her expectantly for an answer but from the stir of possessiveness skipping in her shaken breaths.
“I got you flowers,” she said with a small, hand-tied bouquet of blue hyacinths.
He was shocked, those dark clouds raging in his eyes drifting away as he keenly observed the pretty flowers and the soft smile on her face. Her cheeks burned from his unwavering attention, but she patiently waited while her heart pounded against her ribs.
“It’s the first time someone gave me flowers,” he uttered, his hands coming up slowly to grasp the flowers gently as if they were a fragment of his imagination.
“Do you like them?”
The usual impassive features cracked; his face flushed, his voice strained, and a small noise wrecked his throat with strain.
“Yeah,” he answered, and he looked so panicked yet pleased.
She said his name. He hummed distractedly as his eyes glued onto the blue petals, and she crawled closer to him. His back was trapped against the pillow cushion, the plumpness underneath her hand lingering an indented shape as she paused her advancement with mere inches between them.
“Thank you,” he muttered, “for them.”
His thick chest heaved, and he shot a weak glare at her. “But don’t think what you did—”
She placed her hand on the curved imprint in his pants, and the plastic wrapping paper crinkled over his choked breath. He tried to steel his resolve with a scowl as he set the flowers safely to the side and wrapped his hand around her wrist, but he didn’t pull it away.
He could, with the mesmerizing strength of an archer, but Alessio simply pressed the pad of his finger to her pulse.
Every time she saw him pull the bowstring back, the leather grip between his firm and steady fingers, he mirrored the unyielding anticipation with an arrow to her heart.
Always the center and always with the poise of the brightest constellation.
She palmed his cock through the thin material of his pants. He had to know how distracting he was with messy hair and crumbled pleasure on his face. Broad shoulders tensed as he leaned further into the cushion, his deathly grip steering her palm to press harder on his thick cock as he clicked his tongue at her trance.
Her wrist wiggled lightly, shaking off his grip, and she hooked a teasing finger under the loose waistband. Little by little, much to the annoyed noise in his chest, she dragged it down to release his cock from its uncomfortable confines.
He was big, so delectably thick, with a throbbing vein that made her salivate. Her fingers didn’t meet around his cock, and he seemed to purr at the sight as she rubbed him lazily.
She felt powerful, depraved even, when she could bring a man as commanding and apathetic as him to a mess of hazy eyes and weakened muscles with a simple touch.
She whispered to him, don’t touch —and he didn’t, with so much maddening indignation as she thumbed the bead of cum from the tip.
Her tongue flattened on the vein, sucking softly, forcing him to shudder intensely, but he dutifully kept his hands pressed beside his twitching hips.
She could feel the tingles when her panties dampened with slippery juices, her clit twitching and wishing for the rough pads of his fingers to shove deeply into her tight hole. She didn’t remember the last time he had those dexterous fingers inside her, stretching and nudging sensitive muscles. It had been so long, but she would never forget the way his fat cock would bully her drooling pussy.
He weakly fought the subtle twitches in his hips, refusing to give into the temptation of shoving himself down her throat. She knew every spasm and jolt, so her throat relaxed to slide him down, giving him what he wanted.
She swirled her tongue, tasting him just a little more, and steadily bobbed her head as his cock coated with a thin sheen. The intrusion in her throat built pressure, the tip hitting the back as she squeezed the base to rip a husky groan from him.
The familiarity came back, and her movement became an afterthought of instinct. She was no stranger to sucking his cock, but the act wasn’t any less intimidating. Soreness bit her jaw as the slackened muscles tightened from desperation.
She loved when his cock swelled, pulsed so heavily on her tongue, and sprayed hot cum down her throat. It was always thick and demanding in a way that coated her mouth, sticking to her throat with webbed strings.
Her eyes peered up at him as she felt the telltale signs of unsteady pulses and held his lidded gaze. Like an addiction, her eyes seized everything, from his tight abs peeking under the raised shirt and the lustful battle for control of his cracked composure.
She reared her head back, a string of cum latching onto her lips and the tip of his glistening cock like fated lovers.
His hand clasped under her jaw, forcing her lips open, and he pressed two fingers onto her glossy tongue.
He sneered as he played around with the slippery warmth, then slid them deeper under her teeth until they hit his knuckles. Alessio was careful and knew her limits.
She swirled her tongue between the digits and slowly inched back, cum shining on his fingers as she sat back with an arm supporting her weight. They sat in silence, faces flushed, and veins rushed with desire, and neither wanted to make the first move.
Anya lost a second later. Viscid juices leaked through her panties, darkening the spot underneath as she lifted his shirt.
Slender fingers snagged the edges of her underwear, quickly working down her ass and knees, but she kept her knees closed teasingly. His hungry eyes zoned in between her thighs, and she knew he caught a peek of wetness smeared on the seam of her pussy.
Nonetheless, he stayed still, just as she had asked him. She couldn’t help but want to reward him, and selfishly for herself.
She parted her legs slowly, her cheeks burning as his eyes greedily stared, the same fixated patience as that of the last frayed control he had.
His discipline shattered when she spread her folds, showing him the sloppy, wet hole that craved and pulsed for his cock to stretch until it turned a blushing red.
Before that, he crawled toward her with his hard cock dripping a trail of cum on the cushioned padding. He was predatory, the way he prowled to her and gripped her thighs with the biting pinches of his bruising fingers.
He licked a long and slow stripe up her quivering pussy, forcing a gush of slick from her unused hole, but it never made it far enough as he stopped it by shoving two fingers inside.
Her walls squeezed in shock; flashes of hazy sparks clustered in her head as she gripped the front of her shirt. His lips closed on her neglected clit and twirled the little bud with fervor, hungry like a soulless man.
He drove his fingers into her languidly, turning the angles to find the spongy spot that would have her head spinning and cum splashing through the hole.
Adding another finger, Alessio tried to open her up more, and the chills down her spine masked the burning stretch. He mumbled a hushed groan of something, but she couldn’t hear over her squealing as his teeth nipped her puffy clit.
Her thighs shook around his head, high-pitched whines begging for him to stop, but the way she rolled her hips to his tongue, practically burying his face in her pussy, said otherwise. The thought of sitting on his face, grinding on his mouth while he forced her to stay despite being so needy and stimulated—she wanted that.
He was running out of patience and was determined to break the control of the command she had on him. Impatience was reeling off the moment he found that squishy spot inside her sleek pussy.
Just a bit more , she thought, riding on his tongue through the tightening coil in her stomach.
Then he stopped, and his wet fingers found support on the dip of her waist with a wet pop after the last suck on the reddened bud.
Her eyes misted over, tears clinging to her lashes as she pouted, completely devastated when the sweet release ebbed away.
Alessio was not completely there, just a faint trace of sharpness behind a drunk spell. He rubbed his cock roughly, smearing the residual cum evenly, and parted her swollen folds with the drooling tip.
With a hitched breath, she braced for the sting of his fat cock, breaching the tight ring of muscles. He was hot and heavy, so painfully overstimulated with the delirious spreading of her walls.
She looked down, whining pathetically as her folds quivered and turned almost white from how stretched she was.
He wasted no time and pounded into her, the force and stealthy strength pushing her on her back, and she took what he gave her. With each drag of his cock against her sensitive walls, sloshing juices smeared on her thighs and down her ass.
Both hands flexed on her waist, inching down to where her hips met, and experimentally branded his fingerprints on her skin in littered bruises.
A dreaded yet giddy thump in her chest matched the pace that her bouncing tits were swaying when he dragged his cock wetly through the frayed nerves in her walls.
She sobbed pitifully as he picked up his pace, disregarding her choked moans and trembling thighs around his waist.
He didn’t watch the scrunched-up emotions on her face, but he took pleasure in imprinting the image of his fat cock wrecking her sweet little hole in his head.
Lost and out of it, he yanked her waist down and forced her slit to open wider and swallow him to the base.
It felt like hours, days even, of him relentlessly pounding her soppy cunt. From position to position, his hands always found their way to her waist because it was the easiest place to have absolute dominance over her writhing body.
She loved the control he had.
He seamlessly came inside her soiled pussy without a faltered heartbeat and used his viscid, white cum to stain her walls. A small but happy squeak tumbled from her lips as she could feel the slick, the stringiness coating her swollen folds because he was fucking it out of her.
It was a frothy mess, and she was so embarrassed to love the sight of it.
She wanted him to kiss her, and he was quick to do it. His kiss landed with the same precision as an arrow finding its mark, fueled by desperation and a destructive need to bend her to his will.
He grasped her jaw, a move that jerked her heart with the reign in his hand, and their eyes met through the fragile tension. One spark and everything could lose control.
Anya faintly heard the loud squelching when he roughly grazed her pussy with his cock’s throbbing vein. It was filthy, messy, and utterly mind-numbing as she became prey, a dumb little victim to his cum-stained cock.
She came with a cry against his lips after he flattened her puffy clit under his thumb, stuffed to the brim by spurts of sweltering cum, and plugged snugly with his cock pinning her down.
He licked his lips as he lifted his swelled chest from her heaving tits and ran a hand through his hair to push it back from his ravenous eyes. Those same fingers dove under her shirt and cupped one of her breasts, pinching the sore nipple, then splayed them greedily over the plumpness.
He was feeling her stormy heartbeat.
“We should go out for Christmas.”
“You have three hours to convince me,” he uttered, not so apologetically, and rocked his slippery cock deeper into her soiled, used hole.