Chapter 48
Gen
My cheek is pressed against the cotton-covered mattress, and Anton’s holding me down with a hand still between my shoulders, but I still scrabble to find some kind of grip with my hands because boy is he letting me have it.
Having him on top of me, bearing down on me with that glorious, finally-naked body ramming into me over and over while he eye-fucked me with those beautiful dark eyes was…
I don’t know. It was the kind of sexual experience you don’t ever get over.
The how is this my life feeling, like winning the lottery.
But having him say head down, cunt up in that tone before he pummels into me, over and over on his knees while I kneel here and try to survive it without getting fucked off the bed?
That kind of behaviour has me spiralling, winding tighter and tighter as a second, deeper and achier and more dangerous orgasm builds and builds.
His dick is my single point of focus. I’m an addict. Even when he’s bottoming out in me, my entire body is shouting for my next fix. My cells protest every time he pulls that glorious cock out, and they tremble every time he drives back in.
We’re both so close. He’s got my hips in such a tight grip that I know I’ll have five matching bruises on each side in the morning.
He didn’t say much when he was fucking me face to face and kissing me, but now I’m aware of a string of filth coming from that gorgeous, sensual mouth of his, and I’m as thrilled by the words as I am by the fact that Anton Wolff is unleashed and about to blow his lid.
And I want it. I want it all—I want him to use me and fuck me and unleash every filthy fantasy on me.
I know at an elemental level that we’re just getting started, that the things we achieve together will blow the fucking roof off.
But right now all I care about is allowing this next, second, heavier orgasm to rip through me. Obliterate me. All I care about is how Anton is making me feel in this moment.
Because it feels like nothing on earth. I’m groaning, I’m practically mooing, and I take and take as he pounds and pounds.
‘I’m going to break you in fucking two,’ he rasps hoarsely as he thrusts.
‘Take it, you beautiful, greedy girl. Fuck me, this cunt is greedy. I’m going to make you so desperate for my cock that you’ll do anything I want.
If I tell you to bend over and spread ‘em in public, you fucking will. You won’t be able to think about anything else but having me inside you.
The whole. Fucking. Time. I’ll ruin you. And you’ll fucking ruin me.’
His voice breaks on the last word.
I break, too.
My consciousness splinters into a million tiny pieces, and the self I was when I stepped off that helicopter a few hours ago soars through the clear night air above us, leaving an addict whose awareness of the world has narrowed to one single, stupendous human being.
Anton Wolff.
He fucks me through my orgasm, his taunts morphing into praise as I shatter around him. And then he goes wonderfully, improbably rigid behind me, inside me, letting out an animalistic sound that seems to shudder through where our bodies are joined.
His jerks cease.
And he eases me carefully down so I’m flat on my stomach, arms around my head, and we’re cheek to cheek, his entire weight on top of me.
I understand that weighted blankets can provide comfort.
Safety cues.
But this?
Having Anton’s hard, hot body bearing down on me, enveloping me completely? Pressing me into the mattress? Acting like some sort of blessed buffer between me and the outside world?
It’s nirvana.
He’s still inside me, still pulsing, and I squeeze my internal muscles around him. He gives a little laugh, his breath hot on my ear as his arms mirror mine so he can lay his palms on top of my hands and interlace his fingers with mine.
‘Too heavy?’ he mutters. He’s still finding his breath, and the sensation of his lungs filling and emptying against my back while his heart beats above mine feels like the type of connection I’ve been searching my whole life for.
‘No,’ I whisper. ‘Stay.’
He brushes his nose along my cheekbone and presses a kiss next to my ear. ‘I need to get rid of the condom.’
‘Fuck the condom.’
He sniggers, but then he’s pulling out of me and lifting his weight off me, and it’s totally shit.
‘Nooo,’ I protest, before I catch myself. Needy much, Gen?
‘Give me a sec,’ he insists. He gets off the bed and I roll onto my side, propping myself up on an elbow so I can watch him, drink in the sculptural curves of his muscles as he stands poolside and knots the condom.
Then he’s leaping back onto the bed and tugging me in towards him as he throws a leg over mine. I collapse onto the mattress.
We’re nose to nose.
‘I meant it,’ he whispers, rubbing his nose against mine. ‘You’re going to ruin me.’
I swallow. ‘You’re going to ruin me, too.’
We lie there and stare at each other. In this light, his eyes are dark, fathomless pools. I smooth a palm over his shoulder cap. ‘I finally got you naked,’ I say. And you take my breath away. I feel overly emotional. Tearful, almost. That is not cool.
‘I finally got you to myself,’ is his rejoinder. He rolls me onto my back, and I spread my legs so he can settle between them. ‘And I’m not fucking letting you go.’
I don’t say anything.
I don’t trust myself.
But it seems I don’t have to, because he smooths some errant strands of hair off my face and kisses me slowly. Deeply.
He breaks away. ‘And now I’m going to get to know every inch of your magnificent body.’