CHAPTER 73 #2
Lifting himself up a little higher, my mouth drops open when I feel the slippery glide of his fingers, of his teeth dragging up my stomach, pulling my dress with it.
“Selfish, I know.” Pushing a few more inches until we’re eye level again, my gaze lands on his, catching the intensity over his features.
“But then again, I don’t give a shit.” His fingers thrust deep, so deep before I feel them curl right against that sweet spot.
Tapping over it.
Harder.
“Is this clear enough for you?” he rasps.
When all I do is just moan, I hear the impatience in his voice.
“Ana.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“It’s clear enough.”
“Are you going to press your ass against somebody else next time, baby?”
“No.”
Pleased by my answer, he picks up the pace before I scream at the pleasure rippling through me, watching him hungrily drink me in as he lets me fuck myself with his fingers, riding them until the next edge has crashed over.
With the lick of his lips, he brings his sticky, coated fingers to his mouth, tasting me at his own leisure like he wants so much more, and the air, it all feels incredibly difficult to take in, the pair of his calm expression and dark eyes making me bump against the coffee table beside us.
“Bring me the scarf you wore at the Gala,” he orders.
I would, but I can barely walk right now, and I think he gets the hint, scooping me in his arms and up the stairs.
Once we reach it and I pull out the drawer that holds the piece of silk, I hand it to him, my heart bouncing with anticipation.
“Do you trust me?” he says.
I so fucking don’t know why I do, but I do. So I give him a nod and a yes.
He leans himself toward me, dropping the silk around my eyes, tying it until my vision is just a sea of deep blue.
When my dress falls to the floor, and I feel my naked body stand before him, when a hand twists over my tight nipples, my pussy clamps around the air, trying to grab onto something, whining when it’s all empty.
“Hands on the desk,” he instructs, his voice so sexy it makes me shiver.
Troy guides me to the desk by the closet before I hear the sound of his zipper and him discarding the rest of his clothes, my thrill crackling at the tear of the foil of a condom.
The building, out of reach pleasure pushes my hips against the wood, wanting to rock myself against it so badly, feeling Troy’s weight lean in.
“I said hands on the desk, Ana.”
Slap.
A jagged moan rips from my throat when capable fingers snake around my waist and collide against my wet flesh.
“You liked that, huh?”
“Mhmmm.”
“Mhm, what, baby? Use your words.”
Oh my God.
“I liked it,” I gasp out as the sting from the touch continues to buzz over my whole core.
“Of course you did.” I feel the curve of his lips tickle over my sticky flesh, feeling him soothe me there with soft kisses. “And you’d tell me if it hurt, right?”
“Yes.”
“Good girl.”
“Troy. Please.”
I can’t think straight. I don’t even know what I’m asking for, other than for him to start moving, to start doing something.
Before I can ask again, I feel the steely weight poke at the curve of my ass, swaying back by reflex to take him to the spot where I need him to be.
As if reading my mind, he laces his hands with mine from behind, our hips finding each other at just the right angle, his warm cock immediately being sucked into my pussy like a vacuum.
So tight Troy’s teeth wildly bite over my shoulder at how deep he grunts, the feel of his hot tongue nipping at the delicate skin there.
The obstructed view makes it entirely useless to focus on anything other than each bolt of pleasure that’s being thrust into me. Feeling him continue to pound into me ruthlessly, while holding me steady, he does it again, sliding a hand to cover my scar from any damage.
And my heart nearly explodes the second the orgasm rips through me, Troy’s thrusts growing sloppier, less precise, knowing he’s close too.
I wait for him to untie the silk because that was his game, watching as he turns me over to face him, thinking he did that so that he could come. Fool, I feel like such a fool when that makes me come. Again.
And with that our foreheads meet with anguish simply because that was too good to be over.
But maybe it’s not.
Maybe I can just drop to my knees, grab the ribbon, and play a trick of my own.
When the silk returns to my grip, I push his body onto my bed, crawling over to him, my eyes giddy with feminine power, watching him take in my bare skin, his eyes flickering right above the apex of my thighs voraciously.
Feeling borderline insatiable, I drop my silhouette back, just a touch, to give him a better view of my wet cunt, pushing forward again when he tries to reach for me.
Sliding my hands to his sides, I take both of his wrists and push them right behind his waist, tying his strong hands with the ribbon.
I hear the scoff he gives me, like he finds the move to be such a joke in comparison, that I let my palms run down his skin from the top of his chest torturously slow, all the way over each tight ab, and down to where he’s poking my thigh again.
“I’m sorry, but were you laughing?” I say before he breaks into a smirk mid-tease, my jaw dropping onto his shoulders.
Because the ribbon, the asshole undid the knot in a matter of seconds.
“What the…,” I gasp in disbelief, “how the fuck did you do that?!”
“You thought this little scarf was going to get in my way, baby?” He chuckles, deep. Arrogant. “It’s like you don’t know me at all.” Lazily trailing his hands down the column of my spine, he’s realized he’s won this round. For the second time.
In one impressive swoop, he flips us over so that his chest’s pressing against my back again.
“Now…ass up, Annabel.”
I eagerly obey as Troy slides a pillow underneath my lower hips before every corner of my body feels it.
Because the fucking pillow. It vibrates.
A fucking vibrating pillow.