Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Anna
He kissed me until I could barely breathe.
His tongue pried open my teeth with this aggressive, no-bullshit dominance, sweeping every inch of my mouth.
The spicy bite of cigar and his own raw scent flooded my senses.
My brain went blank. I just clung to his shirt, letting him take whatever he wanted.
The kiss was pure invasion, but with this weird hint of gentleness. He nipped at my lips, hard enough to sting, then pulled back just when I thought I'd suffocate, giving me a second to gasp.
I don't know how long it lasted, but finally, he let go. I slumped against him, panting hard, my legs like jelly. My lips throbbed, numb and sore. My face burned, and my heart hammered like it wanted out of my chest.
He didn't say a word. Just stared at me with those deep brown eyes, dark and pulling me in like they could suck my soul right out. Then he bent down, scooped me up—one arm under my knees, the other behind my back—like I weighed nothing.
"Ah!" I yelped, instinctively wrapping my arms around his neck.
He carried me steadily to the bedroom. I buried my face in his solid chest, hearing his steady heartbeat thump against my wild one.
The bedroom matched the living room—stark black, white, and gray, cold and lifeless. But the bed was massive, covered in what looked like expensive black silk sheets.
He set me down gently, and the mattress sank under me, soft as hell. Then he leaned over, hands braced on either side, trapping me in his shadow.
"Anna," he said, voice rough and gravelly, "it's not too late to back out."
I looked up at him, seeing my own flustered reflection in those deep eyes. Regret? Maybe tomorrow. But right now? Hell no.
I shook my head.
He smiled, this smug little grin that made my heart skip.
He started kissing me again—from my forehead, down to the tip of my nose, then my lips.
This time it was softer, like he was soothing me, tasting me.
His hands moved slow, unbuttoning my shirt, cool fingertips brushing my skin and making me shiver.
He undid my jeans, sliding them off along with my panties. When I was completely bare, shame hit me hard—I tried to cover up. But he grabbed my wrists, pinned them above my head, and said in this tone that brooked no argument, "Don't move. Let me look at you."
My face burned even hotter.
His gaze was like fire, roaming every inch of my skin, igniting wherever it went. Then he dipped his head, lips landing on my collarbone, hot and wet kisses trailing down over my chest, my stomach...
When his fingers finally touched my most intimate spot, my whole body tensed. This strange, tingling pleasure shot up from my tailbone, spreading through every limb. I bit my lip, trying not to make any embarrassing sounds, but my body betrayed me.
His fingers slid between my folds, exploring the slick heat there with deliberate slowness that made me squirm.
He rubbed gently at first, parting my lips and tracing the entrance to my pussy, feeling how wet I already was from his earlier touches and kisses.
"So responsive," he murmured, his voice low and approving, like he was savoring every twitch of my body.
His thumb circled lazily around my opening, pressing just enough to tease without entering, building that ache inside me until I was arching my hips toward him, desperate for more.
I gasped as he delved deeper, one finger slipping inside me, curling against that sensitive spot that made stars burst behind my eyelids.
He pumped it in and out, slow and steady, his palm grinding against my mound with each thrust. The wetness grew, coating his hand, and I could hear the obscene sounds of my arousal as he worked me.
My breaths came in short pants, my chest heaving, nipples hardening into tight peaks from the sheer intensity.
Then, just when I thought I couldn't take the teasing anymore, he shifted his focus.
His finger withdrew, slick and glistening, and he brought it up to my clit.
He rubbed the swollen nub in tight circles, starting soft but increasing the pressure, flicking it with his fingertip in a rhythm that had me moaning uncontrollably.
The pleasure built like a storm, electric shocks zipping through my veins, making my toes curl and my thighs tremble.
"Alexander," I whimpered, the name slipping out on a desperate breath, my mind lost in the haze of sensation.
"I'm right here, Anna," he whispered hotly in my ear, his breath fanning over my skin, sending another shiver down my spine.
In the next second, he moved down my body, his mouth replacing his fingers.
His tongue lapped at my clit with a hunger that stole my breath, swirling around it in wet, insistent strokes.
He sucked it between his lips, teasing it with gentle nips that bordered on pain but exploded into pure ecstasy.
I bucked against his face, my hands fisting the sheets as waves of pleasure crashed over me.
His hands gripped my thighs, holding them apart, exposing me completely to his assault.
He delved lower, his tongue plunging into my pussy, fucking me with it in deep, rhythmic thrusts that mimicked what I craved from him.
The heat of his mouth, the roughness of his stubble scraping against my sensitive skin—it was overwhelming.
I felt every flick, every suck, every hot breath against my dripping core.
My body coiled tighter and tighter, the pressure building in my belly like a dam about to burst. "Oh God, Alexander, don't stop," I begged, my voice breaking as he hummed against me, the vibration sending me spiraling.
He intensified his efforts, alternating between sucking my clit hard and lapping at my entrance, tasting every drop of my arousal.
His fingers joined in again, two of them sliding inside me, stretching me deliciously while his mouth worked my clit without mercy.
The dual sensation was too much—my vision blurred, my muscles locked, and then it hit.
The orgasm ripped through me like a tidal wave, my pussy clenching around his fingers, pulsing with release as I cried out his name.
Pleasure exploded in white-hot bursts, leaving me shaking and breathless, my entire body convulsing in ecstasy.
But he didn't stop there. Even as I came down from that high, he kept going, drawing out every aftershock with slow, languid licks that made my oversensitive clit throb.
I whimpered, half in protest, half in bliss, as another wave built unexpectedly.
His tongue circled my clit again, more insistent this time, and he added a third finger, filling me up and curling them just right to hit that spot over and over.
The stretch burned so good, mixing with the slick heat, and I was lost again, grinding against his face shamelessly.
"Fuck, you're so wet for me," he growled against my skin, the words vibrating through me and pushing me closer to the edge once more.
I could feel my juices coating his chin, hear the sloppy sounds of his mouth devouring me, and it only heightened the raw, animalistic need surging through my veins.
My hands flew to his hair, tugging at the strands, holding him in place as I rode the building crest.
This time, the climax hit even harder, my back arching off the bed, a scream tearing from my throat as spasms wracked my body.
Stars danced in my vision, my pussy fluttering wildly around his fingers, gushing with release that left me drenched and trembling.
He lapped it all up, prolonging the pleasure until I was a boneless mess, gasping for air, my heart pounding like a drum.
He wasn't done yet. Pulling back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark with lust, he kissed his way up my inner thighs, nipping at the soft flesh before returning to my core.
This time, he focused solely on my clit, sucking it rhythmically while his fingers pumped in and out, scissoring inside me to stretch me further.
The overstimulation bordered on too much, but it ignited something primal, making me beg for more even as tears pricked my eyes from the intensity.
"Alexander, please... I can't..." I gasped, but my body betrayed me, hips bucking into his touch, chasing that edge again.
He chuckled lowly, the sound sending shivers through me, and redoubled his efforts.
His tongue flicked my clit in rapid bursts, his free hand reaching up to pinch my nipple, twisting it just hard enough to send jolts straight to my core.
The third orgasm built slower but crashed like thunder, my whole body seizing up as ecstasy flooded every nerve.
I shattered, crying out incoherently, my pussy clamping down on his fingers in rhythmic pulses that seemed to go on forever.
He rode it out with me, his mouth gentle now, easing me through the aftershocks until I collapsed back onto the bed, utterly spent.
He kissed my mound softly one last time, then trailed his lips up my body, leaving a path of fire in his wake. But as the haze cleared, I realized he hadn't taken his own pleasure yet. His erection pressed against my thigh, hard and insistent, but he held back, watching me with that intense gaze.
I reached for him, wanting to return the favor, but he captured my hand, bringing it to his lips. "Not yet," he murmured, voice strained with restraint. Still, the way he devoured me had left me reeling, my body humming with satisfaction even as a new hunger stirred.
Alexander suddenly got up, and I felt the mattress bounce on his side. I figured he'd hold me like before, or kiss me, but no.
I forced my eyes open and saw him with his back to me, pulling on his pants.
"Where... are you going?" My voice came out husky from the sex, with this tiny edge of hurt I couldn't hide.
"Taking a cold shower." He sounded tense.
My heart sank. A cold shower? Why? Was I not good enough? Did he not feel anything? Was all that just me putting on a show? Shame and anger twisted around my heart like vines, choking me.
"What the hell do you mean?" I pushed myself up, the sheet slipping off, exposing my skin marked with red hickeys. "Is it because I'm not good enough? Couldn't satisfy you?"
He turned, his eyes darkening at the sight of me. He stepped to the bed, reached for my face, but I jerked my head away.
His hand hung there, then he sighed, helpless. "Anna, why are you thinking that?"
"Why am I thinking that?" My eyes stung. "You do this to me, then run off for a cold shower, and you say I'm overthinking?"
He looked at me, those brown eyes swirling with desire, restraint, and... something soft I couldn't read.
"Because you're hurt." He finally said, voice low and real. "Your ankle's still messed up. And in bed... I get rough. I don't want to make it worse."
I froze.
Because I'm hurt? He's... protecting me?
It caught me off guard, all my accusations and hurt stuck in my throat.
He saw me staring, ruffled my hair, then headed into the bathroom. Soon, the water rushed on.
I sat there alone on the messed-up bed, listening to the shower, my head a mess of shame, warmth, and this weird frustration.
He treated me like some fragile treasure, and it touched me. But I didn't want to just take. He'd given me mind-blowing pleasure, and he was holding back. Me, Anna Parker—even at my lowest—I hated owing anyone.
A wild idea hit me.
I bit my lip, threw off the covers, and got out of bed. My ankle stung the second it hit the floor, but I ignored it, hopping on one foot, scanning the room. My eyes locked on a little round stool by the dresser.
I dragged it over, limping but determined as hell, straight to the bathroom.
The door wasn't locked. I pushed it open, steam hitting me like a wall. Through the fog, I saw him—the guy who had me all twisted up.
He stood under the spray, back to me, water cascading over his broad shoulders, outlining his ripped back and tapered waist. He heard the door, turned, surprised. For the first time, those calculating eyes showed pure shock as he saw me with the stool.
Under that stunned stare, I hauled the stool right in front of him, ignoring his naked body and my own bare skin, and plopped down on it.
I tilted my head up at this even more intimidating man, trying to sound calm. "I don't like owing favors."
"You made me feel good once," I licked my dry lips, locking eyes with him, word by word. "Now, it's my turn to return the favor."