Chapter 12 – Anya #2
“Touch me more,” I begged. “I need your hands on me.”
“Where?” His fingers traced patterns on my thigh, so close to where I needed him. “Here?”
“Higher.”
“Here?” He moved fractionally closer.
“Stop teasing me.”
“Tell me what you want.” His breath was hot against my ear. “I want to hear you say it.”
“Touch my pussy,” I gasped. “Please, I’m so wet for you.”
“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers finally sliding between my legs. “You weren’t kidding. You’re soaking.”
“That’s what you do to me.” I arched into his touch. “That’s what you’ve always done to me.”
While his hands explored me, mine explored the hard planes of his chest and the scars that told stories he’d never shared with words.
“What happened here?” I traced a particularly nasty scar along his ribs.
“Later,” he said. “Right now, I just want to feel you.”
“I want to know everything about you,” I whispered, but then his fingers found my clit, and I couldn’t form coherent thoughts. “Oh, God, yes, like that.”
“You like that?”
“Yes, fuck, don’t stop.”
“I won’t,” he promised. “I’m going to make you come so many times tonight you forget your own name.”
“Big words,” I managed breathlessly.
“Let me prove it.” He slid two fingers inside me, and I cried out. “So tight. So wet. God, I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”
“Then stop waiting,” I challenged. “Fuck me.”
“Not yet.” He curled his fingers, and I saw stars. “First, I want to watch you fall apart.”
Every touch was a vow. Every breath was a promise.
“You’re close,” he observed, his thumb circling my clit while his fingers worked inside me. “I can feel it.”
“Yes,” I gasped. “So close. Make me come.”
“Ask me nicely.”
“Please,” I begged, past pride, past games. “Please make me come. I need it so badly.”
“That’s my girl.” He increased the pressure, and I shattered, crying out his name.
When he whispered my name against my throat as I came down from the high, it sounded like a prayer. “So beautiful. You’re so fucking beautiful when you come.”
“I want you inside me,” I said as soon as I could speak again. “Now. Please.”
“Are you sure?” He positioned himself between my thighs, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance.
“Yes, I’m sure. Just fuck me…. Please.”
When I arched beneath him, pulling him deeper, it felt like coming alive. “Oh, fuck,” I moaned. “You’re so big. So deep.”
“You feel incredible,” he groaned. “So tight. So perfect. Like you were made for me.”
This wasn’t just sex. This was two people who’d been fighting against gravity, finally giving in and letting themselves fall.
“Move,” I demanded. “Please move.”
“Bossy,” he teased, but he pulled back and thrust deep, making us both moan.
“Harder.”
“Like this?” He slammed into me, and I cried out.
“Yes! Just like that. Don’t stop.”
“Not planning on it.” His pace was relentless, each thrust hitting that perfect spot inside me. “You feel too good. I could fuck you forever.”
“Then do it,” I challenged. “Fuck me like you mean it.”
“Careful what you wish for.” He grabbed my hips, angling them up, and the new position made me see stars.
“Oh my God,” I gasped. “Right there, fuck, right there—”
“Here?” He did it again, harder.
“Yes! Don’t you dare stop.”
“Never.” His voice was strained with the effort of holding back. “I could listen to you moan for me all night.”
“Then make me moan louder.”
He did, his hand sliding between us to rub my clit while he fucked me. It was messy and beautiful and terrifying and perfect all at once.
“I’m going to come again,” I warned him, my nails digging into his shoulders. “Oh fuck, I’m going to—”
“Do it,” he urged. “Come for me. Let me feel it.”
I came with a scream, my whole body convulsing around him. The sensation must have pushed him over the edge because he groaned my name and buried himself deep, coming inside me with shuddering thrusts.
“Holy fuck,” he panted against my neck.
“Yeah,” I agreed, still trembling. “Holy fuck.”
We lay there for a moment, both breathing hard, still connected.
“That was—” I started.
“Not nearly enough,” he finished, and I felt him hardening inside me again.
“Already?”
“What can I say?” He rolled us over so I was on top, still impaled on his cock. “You have that effect on me.”
I sat up, taking him even deeper, and we both groaned. “Like this?”
“Fuck, yes, like that.” His hands gripped my hips, guiding my movements. “Ride me. Use me however you want.”
I started moving, slow at first, then faster. “You feel so good inside me.”
“You look like a goddess right now,” he said, his eyes roaming over my body. “So fucking perfect.”
“Touch me,” I begged. “Touch my tits.”
His hands moved to my breasts, squeezing and teasing my nipples. “Like this?”
“Yes! Oh, God, yes.”
“You’re close again, aren’t you?” He could feel it in the way I was clenching around him. “My greedy girl wants to come again.”
“Yes,” I admitted shamelessly. “Make me come.”
He sat up, wrapping one arm around my waist while his other hand found my clit. “Then take what you need.”
I rode him frantically, chasing my release. “I’m so close, so fucking close—”
“Come for me,” he commanded. “Let me feel that tight pussy come all over my cock.”
The dirty words pushed me over the edge. I came with a cry, my body shaking with the intensity of it, and he followed moments later, groaning against my neck.
This time, when we collapsed together, we were both thoroughly spent. I slid off him and curled against his side.
“Give me five minutes,” I said breathlessly. “Then I want your cock in my mouth.”
He made a strangled sound. “You’re trying to kill me.”
“Is it working?”
“Absolutely.”
Afterward, we lay tangled together in the darkness, my head on his chest, his fingers threading through my hair. I could feel his heartbeat gradually slowing, could hear the change in his breathing.
“Anya,” he murmured against the top of my head.
“Mmm?”
“You’re mine now. You know that, right?”
I lifted my head to look at him, seeing something in his expression I’d never seen before. Vulnerability. Hope. Fear that I might change my mind or realize I’d made a mistake.
“I’ve been yours since I was twenty,” I whispered back. “It just took me five years to admit it.”
His arms tightened around me, and for the first time since this whole nightmare began, I felt truly safe. Not because of the weapons hidden throughout the penthouse or the security measures Lev had put in place, but because of the way he was holding me.
Like I was something precious he’d never let go.
Like I was home.