33. 33 – Silas #2
I’m not of the mind to deny her a single fucking thing.
So my hand slides beneath, and I pull them down, reveling in the sight of her creamy skin being unveiled, inch by inch.
She lifts her hips for me to pull them away, and I trace my finger over her soft black cotton underwear. “I hope you’re not attached to this.”
“Wait—,”
But she’s too late. The material splits easily beneath my hands as I rip, and I let the strands flutter down as my eyes zero in on the cinnamon curls between her legs. “Oops.”
“I only have three pairs, you know.”
At her slightly tart tone, I glance up. She’s propped up on her elbows, giving me full access to her mildly disgruntled expression. “Maybe I’ll invest in an underwear store so I can rip them off you any time I choose.”
She bites her lip as she glances at the panties I toss aside, and I realize that she’s genuinely worried.
She should be wearing silks and satins, every piece hand fucking crafted , and she’s worried about a pair of underwear from a damn multipack.
“I’ll replace them,” I promise softly. “I swear.”
“You’d better.” But her voice shakes as I lean down to press my lips against the soft curls. And when I push her legs apart, baring her to me, her gasp is my reward as I drop my mouth down and take a long, slow lick of her center.
“ God ,” she gasps, and I reach up to flick her clit, my tone admonishing.
“We talked about that, I believe.”
And then I lose myself in her scent, in her taste, sweet as fucking honey and yet tart on my tongue as she moans and thrashes beneath me, my name falling from her lips in stuttered, broken pleas.
My hands grip her legs, lifting them to sit over my shoulders to give me more of her.
I can’t get close enough to her, to the fucking sounds she makes.
When I groan into her cunt, her answering keen makes me shudder. “Look at this pretty cunt, Stasi. All wet and pink and swollen for me.”
I try to be gentle when I slide my finger inside her, then another, curling it up until I hit that magical fucking part of her that rips a cry from her throat.
“Are you ready?” I’m not sure who I’m asking with my question. Her, or me. “You’re going to take my cock, Stasi. I’m going to watch it disappear inside you, and then I’m going to fuck you until you’re so full of me you can’t see anything else.”
She sobs. “ Please .”
I try to breathe as I shift her a little further up the bed. The towel is already hanging off me, and I yank it away, throwing it before I turn back to her, pushing her legs as wide as I can get them.
My cock is already rock solid, weeping for want of her, and I stroke my fingers down it as she watches me with heavy, lidded eyes. Her lips part, and I imagine how it will feel to slide between those plump lips, to hold her against me and fuck her mouth, sink into her throat.
A bead of precum wells up, and I stroke my thumb against it, gathering the liquid. Reaching up, I swipe it against her lower lip, rubbing that small part of me into her. “Soon.”
She swallows at the promise in my words, but her eyes are hungry as she looks down. And as I lean back, she grips her knees, pushing them open impossibly wider in silent invitation.
She has never done this before. Slowly.
But even as I repeat the words silently, it feels impossible as I line myself up to her entrance, notching the head of my cock against her as she inhales sharply. “It feels…big.”
And the small laugh huffs out of me, unexpected as the tenderness that grips my throat at her sudden uncertainty. Slowly, I lean down, covering her until our faces are close enough for me to press my lips against hers.
“Breathe,” I murmur, and as I sink that first, hot inch inside her, I open her mouth, capturing her breath with mine as she pants. “You feel like heaven around me, Anastasia.”
Her eyes are closed as I press soft, gentle kisses to her skin. My hips flex, and I sink in a little more. Leaning down, I hook her leg over my arm, opening her up. “Taking me so well, Stasi. Jesus.”
And our eyes lock as I push, her body opening for me as I take her, my cock bottoming out inside her as my muscles lock up in sheer fucking bliss.
I trace her face, taking in the flush of her cheeks, the stars in her eyes. “You’re alright?”
She continues to breathe, in and out before she nods. I push the damp hair back away from her face. Wondering at her.
“Move with me.” I flex into her, relishing the feel of sliding into her…this… possession.
Although I’m not sure who’s possessing who, as I coax her to wrap her legs around my waist. As her hips bump against mine in clumsy, sweet need before she bites down on her lip and I chase the sting away with my own mouth, moving with her slowly until we are perfect, fluid harmony.
And I don’t look away. I don’t want to miss a single second of her pleasure as she chases it, her face raw and open in a way I have never seen before. Her eyes stay on mine as she moans, the sound reverberating deep in her throat as I push her harder, faster.
I bury my face in her neck, breathing her in as ripples of blinding need shoot down my spine. “Fucking perfect, Stasi.”
And when she tightens around me, when her hands grip mine and she cries out my name, I can’t stop myself from spilling into her with sudden, belated realization even as I moan her name like a fucking prayer.
Stasi. Stasi. Stasi.
And as I press her down into the soft bedding, pinning her with my hips and the weight of every fucking dream I’ve had of her over the years, I know that this will never, ever be enough.
She grins at me, her face damp and sparkling as she tries to catch her breath. “That was… unexpected.”
And her voice sounds so fucking coy that my lips twist up. “Liar.”
She laughs breathlessly, her head dropping back to the bed. “Maybe not completely unexpected.”
I untangle us reluctantly, and she sits up as I come out of the bathroom, her gaze dropping to my hand. “What’s that?”
“Lie back.” Her cheeks darken as I nudge her shoulders down, the minx disappearing into sudden shyness as I spread her open. I can’t stop myself to take a moment. “Fuck, you have a pretty cunt, Anastasia.”
“Silas!” She squeaks as I press my finger in just a little, enjoying the view.
“But it’s even prettier when it’s full of me.” I look up at her as I press the cloth into her, slowly cleaning her up and reminding myself to get her birth control first thing tomorrow.
She bites her lip. “This doesn’t fix everything.”
The world around us threatens to rush in at her words, to choke us under the weight of expectation and demand, but I hold it back. Just for tonight.
Tonight is for us.
“No,” I say softly. I climb onto the bed, tugging the covers from underneath her and drawing them over us. Closing the world out. “But it can wait, Stasi. Everything else can wait for tonight.”
I draw her against me, the warm skin of her bare back pressing into my chest. She stiffens, suddenly. “I’m cold. Do you have a… a shirt I can borrow?”
Frowning, I glance down at the top of her head, the mess of curls. I want to feel her, but I slide back out and fetch her a shirt anyway. “Here.”
“Thanks.” She sits up and shrugs it on, her muscles relaxing as I drag her back to me, my hand curling over her bare hip. Her voice is sleepy when she speaks. “What do we do now, Silas?”
I consider the question; my finger tracing gentle circles over her skin.
I should tell her about the dinner. Should have already told her that her stepsister is coming here, to Oakbourne.
But if she asks me why we’ve invited them… I don’t know how to explain it without hurting her.
How would she respond if I tell her that I still need that final piece of proof? To know for certain?
I’m not an idiot. Deep down, I know that she’s not what they say. I know how the truth can be twisted, that the public perception of Anastasia could well have been shaped into something so far from the truth that it’s unrecognizable.
The Anastasia in my arms, soft and sated and mine, is not the one that they think they know.
But she did lie to us, before. For months, day after day.
And maybe I need to know how deep her shades of gray are before I can open myself up completely. Not that it will change anything. My hand clenches on her hip, and she wriggles, a small protest falling from her lips.
No. Anastasia belongs to me. To us . Because Rafe and Kit will not let her go, either.
And if it turns out that we were wrong all along, then I’ll get down on my knees and beg her forgiveness for doubting her. I’ll rip Crispin and his precious Cinderella into pieces for ruining her life.
I will make amends.
But first, I have to know the truth.