Chapter 21 Anna
Anna
Holy crap.
Now that he’s here again, in my flat, I feel out of my depth. Apart from our first encounter, I can’t remember the last time I invited someone over to my place for sex. The only man who’s come close to seeing my front door has delivered my takeaway.
I’m totally bare underneath the flimsy material draped around me, and my hands are properly shaking now.
What the hell was I thinking, sending him that photo?
I’d been pacing my flat, replaying every single moment from last night.
His deep grunts and the way he looked at me as he pumped himself, picturing my hand wrapped around his cock instead.
After seeing him on the television, all gorgeous and sweaty, I just…
lost my mind. I wanted him. And now he’s standing in my lounge room, looking at me like he wants to eat me, and I’m not sure I even remember how to seduce a man.
A swirl of butterflies comes to life in my stomach, wildly batting their wings. I haven’t liked someone in such a long time. I’d forgotten what it felt like to have this kind of electricity with someone. It’s infatuating. Intoxicating.
That’s all wonderful—but what the hell do I do?
His dark blue eyes have turned stormy and intense, roping me in and pulling me under. His hair is mussed from me running my fingers through it. He looks positively predatory. The kind who makes my knees buckle and pussy pulse.
Channel my inner slag.
Feigning all the confidence I don’t have, I untie my robe, letting it flutter to the floor.
His gaze ravages my body. “Fuck, Anna.”
I throb with every step he takes toward me. He dusts his knuckles over my collarbone and chills race across my skin.
“You know what I thought when you sent me that photo?” he asks, his voice a soothing balm.
Needing to touch him, I flatten my palm against his chest, feeling his heartbeat match my own. “What?”
“That I’m the luckiest bastard alive,” he murmurs. “That somehow, this incredible woman sent me the sexiest photo I’ve ever seen.” His hands skim down my shoulder, running lazily up and down my arms. “Tell me, what were you thinking about when you took that photo, Anna?”
My breath saws in and out of my lungs. “You. Touching me.”
“Good,” he says, leaning in until his lips barely skim mine. “Because I haven’t been able to think about anything else since last night.”
His eyes snag on something over my shoulder and his mouth curves into a lopsided smirk. I follow his gaze to what he’s looking at: my dining table.
When I turn back, his pupils have bled out, dark and loaded.
“Get on the table, baby,” he instructs.
Holy. Shit.
I scramble up onto the table as gracefully as one can with their vag out.
He shrugs off his jacket, throws it on the sofa, then prowls toward me. “Lie back.” His voice is a growl.
I drop back instantly.
“Spread your legs,” he commands.
As if his voice is the passcode to my body, my legs fall open.
He tugs his t-shirt over his head and lets it fall where it lands, exposing his thick chest. His hands drop to his belt, which he unlatches and discards. Next, he pops the button of his jeans, leaving the zip up.
He stands frozen, studying every dip and curve of my body like it’s the first time. “You’re breathtaking. Did you know that?” His voice is all gravel and smoke.
I roll my eyes. “Please. I’m sure you’ve seen far better.”
The thwack of his hand against my pussy steals my breath with a sting.
“What the fuck!” I gasp, only to feel my pussy gush hotter.
A dark brow kicks up. “I mean it. You’re fucking beautiful. Tell me you understand.”
Sucking my lower lip in, I nod.
“Say it,” he growls.
“I understand.”
“Good.” His hands clamp under my knees, and he drags me to the table’s edge until my arse almost hangs over it.
“Are you steady here?” he asks.
“Yes,” I breathe.
He drops to his knees before me, shoving my thighs wide. His thumb ghosts over my clit ever so slightly. “Give me your hand, baby. Feel how wet you are.”
Folding myself into a sitting position, I offer my hand. He takes it, guiding my fingers to my cushioned sex, controlling gentle circles over my clit. The contact has my head falling back on a sigh, my hair tickling the base of my spine.
“I love that,” I whisper.
After coating my fingers, he leans in and I watch in wonderment as he sucks my juices off.
“I can tell.” He hums approvingly. “God, I’ve wanted to taste you so badly.”
Then he releases my hand and leans in, drawing one hard, hot line up my pussy with his tongue. I buck and cry out, my hands sinking into his hair, clutching tightly while he gets to work feasting on me.
“Right there,” I whimper, grinding shamelessly against his mouth.
His groan builds and tumbles out as he sucks my clit into his mouth. Hard.
“Liam!” I cry, yanking on his hair, but it only makes him moan louder. He laps at me like he’s starving. Every lick of his tongue shoots heat through my veins, pooling low in my belly until I’m shaking.
I can’t stop the animalistic noises spilling out of me, can’t stop the way my legs tremor around his head as he sucks, licks, nibbles, and laps at my pussy like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted.
One of his big hands leaves my leg and a second later, two thick fingers breach me, curling just right.
“Oh my God,” I sob.
He pumps into me hard, adding a third finger, loosening me up, while his mouth remains sealed to my nub. He traces small, tight circles with his tongue, rubbing his lips through me, pushing me closer to tipping point.
The table creaks beneath me and the wood grows slippery with how wet I’m getting. My juices drip down the crack of my arse, soaking his knuckles as I ride his hand.
“Come for me, baby,” he grits out, the slurping sounds of my body increasing.
And I do. His fingers penetrate deep, curling into a spot that no other man has managed to find with their hands before. My whole body sparks and jolts.
He groans against me like he’s the one coming, drinking me down while his fingers keep working me through it, wringing out every last drop until I’m a shaking, writhing mess.
“That’s it, baby,” he growls, slowing his movements.
When he finally pulls away, the lower half of his face is shiny with my mess. “Do you think this tight little pussy can come some more for me?” he asks, eyes locked on mine.
I nod, my body exhausted and limp, quivering with the aftershocks.
He rises to his feet and I wind my legs around his waist. I don’t care that my release is smearing all over his stomach; if anything, the feral need to feel him closer makes me cling harder.
His hands grip my arse, hauling me up and carrying me like a koala. His cock strains against his jeans.
“You’re dripping all over me,” he rasps, and when I grind against him, he grunts in response.
I think I might die if he doesn’t bone me.
He remembers where my room is, carrying me through my flat before laying me out on my bed. He rips his zipper down, shoving out of his jeans and kicking them aside, his briefs following shortly after.
While he strips, I reach for the drawer beside my bed. My stash. My fingers close around cold silicone. When I pull it out, his pupils dilate. A thick purple dildo.
“Jesus,” he mutters, the muscle in his jaw quivering.
And because I can’t help myself and I’m feeling especially brave tonight, I reach back in and pull out a pair of metal cuffs, depositing them on the bed.
His laugh is low and rough. “You’ve been hiding this side of yourself from me?”
He drags a hand through his hair and I bite my lip, nodding.
“What do you need from me, baby? You want me to use these on you? Restrain you, worship you until you can’t think straight and stick my dick in your arse?”
His mouth is absolutely filthy, and I love every second of it.
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head.
His eyebrows pull together before I tell him exactly what I want, my chest flushing at what I’m about to say.
“I want you to use the dildo on me. At the same time as you take my pussy.”
His eyes smolder.
“You want one in each hole?” he asks.
My gaze remains latched on to his as I shake my head no. “I want them in the same one.”
For a moment he just stares at me, chest heaving, and I worry I might have pushed him too far. But since the first time I saw his giant cock, this fantasy has played on my mind. I wanted him… and more.
Maybe he isn’t into it.
Crap.
What if he thinks I’m weird?
Then, he snarls. Actually snarls, grabbing the cuffs. He snaps one cold metal cuff around my wrist, then the other, pinning them above my head before settling between my legs.
He rubs his cock back and forth through my slit, getting it wet. Then he lines himself up with me, his thick head pressing at my entrance.
“Wait.” He freezes. “Condom?”
“I’m on the pill and I’m clean. You?”
He nods. “Yeah, I got retested a couple of weeks ago. I’m clean.”
The words hit me unexpectedly, sinking in deep. A couple of weeks ago? That would mean . . .
My expression must shift because the lust in his gaze gentles to concern.
“I can see your thoughts running wild. Talk to me. Are you okay?”
“Nothing, I just . . .” I hesitate, knowing I have no right to ask. My words come out as whispers. “Have you been with other people since… you know . . .”
“Since you?” he finishes for me.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice small.
“No.”
“I shouldn’t have asked you that. It’s none of my business.” I turn my head.
“Hey, look at me,” he says, lifting a hand to cup my face. “Don’t apologize. I haven’t been with anyone else since moving to London. I didn’t mean to sound short, I just… there’s no one else I want, Anna. I mean it. Only you.”
Only me.
My skin burns hot as his words ease the tightness in my chest.
“What about you?” he asks, his voice gentle.
“No one,” I admit. “Just you.”
“Are you still happy to do this?” he asks.
I chuckle. “I’m lying here with my hands cuffed, so yes, I’m still very happy to do this.”
“Bare?” he asks.
I bite my lip. “Yeah, bare.”