CHAPTER 79 #2
I watch as Ana circles her hips into the air wildly as she slides me out to catch her breath before shoving my cock back between her lips with a whimpered moan that’s all arousal and gluttony.
All while she’s still fully clothed while I’m buck naked; it’s so filthy I nearly come at just that.
But I want to drag this out, make it feel just as good for her.
So when she pushes the apex of her thighs together like she wants to be rubbed there, I rasp, “You want to slip your fingers into those shorts, baby?” Her brows scrunch together in frustrated desire just as another moan falls out the edges of her lips.
“You want to finger fuck that tight little cunt of yours while you suck me?”
I see the drool that starts to leak from the corners of her mouth, fucking feeling the heat between her legs by my foul words.
She nods, her tugs on my cock growing sloppier, faster.
“Then do it,” I say.
Sliding one of her hands into the waistband of her shorts, my eyes can’t tear away from the rapid way her arm keeps raising, then falling in the short cloth.
The way her forehead knits together, her eyes shut tight as she squeezes me with her warm mouth, and whines around my shaft like she’s already there.
And so am I.
“Ana,” I grunt out, my stomach bolting with such an intense pleasure it only ripples seeing her hips continue to move of their own volition, thrusting into her mouth until we both drop from the overwhelming high.
But from the greedy way she lets go of my tip, leaving her mouth a bit open for me to watch her swallow my thick ropes of come, slides her shorts down, sits on the bed just to part those perfect long legs of hers, and I finally get to see just how much she enjoyed fucking herself while she fucked me with her mouth, with a primal, feral tick down my neck, I lunge my weight over her before a condom lands itself on me and her eyes roll back at the first grind of our hips.
Several strokes later, and I hear her rasp against my neck, “I know what would make this feel even better.”
Ana flicks her hungry gaze down to where we’re joined.
It’s so hot, and I quickly pick up on what she’s suggesting when her fingers drop between us and start tracing over my base.
She wants the condom off.
“Ana,” I groan out because—hard same. “It’s not smart. Fuck, you know I want to, but…” I trail off, though, I really think I should shut up right about now.
“I’m on the pill,” she reassures, her eyes serious. “We should be fine.”
I only mull the question over more than I normally would because this is Ana.
I know how much skating means to her, and if we’re not responsible and something we do together affects her well-being then I don’t know if I can just overlook that, even with her on the pill and both of our latest test results coming in clean.
But then there’s that look on her face.
The one where she could kill me and I’d say thank you before I fucking died.
Then she starts tickling the side of my neck with her frustratingly perfect mouth. “Let me make you feel so fucking good, baby,” she taunts, feeling the clownish smirk stamp along my skin.
“Damn,” I grumble, “please don’t tell me I sound like that.”
She gawks but then her voice cuts off into a needy whimper.
“Please, I need. More. Please give me more.”
The woman is begging me to fill her up bare, and the fact I even question it makes me want to slap myself silly.
I lift myself to my knees as Ana’s body slides lower beneath me. She wraps her legs around my waist. Tight. And as I angle my hips, the brightest pink lips drop open again.
“I want to feel your cock.” That perfect tongue of hers licks over that gorgeous mouth of hers, staring at me with those big blue eyes. “Please.”
Just like that, all my self-control crumbles.
I slide out of her completely.
“Take it off,” I order, my voice rid of any restraint.
A fire of lust gleams from Ana’s eyes as she looks at the space between us again, this time reaching a hand swiftly before tearing the condom off me, teasing along my shaft just because she knows it will drive me insane and she knows she’s really fucking good at that.
One look at her gaze and how she’s leaning back, her legs very blatantly stretched wider knowing that would mess with my head—it does—and my mind is on another planet. One where only she exists.
She wants to feel me, and I’m going to make sure to make it worth her while.
Teasing her core with just my cock head, my stomach clenches at the way she moans, a way she hasn’t before, and my whole length twitches in a way it never has before.
It’s the sweetest moan I’ve ever heard her make.
Ever heard my whole life.
And it makes me want to do that again, so I do, circling my tip once more, twice more, a couple more times until I see her sticky juices glaze all over my shaft, using the moment to drag my tip up to her clit then down to her slick core.
Her nails sink down my sides at that before I push into her tight pussy in one full thrust.
This time I don’t wait for her to adjust the way I’d normally do.
No, instead I lift her ass off the bed, squeezing my base to ward off my own damn release—too risky, I think—when her sweet moans sing into needy screams, feeling her toes now marking my ass, both of us feeling it when her walls spasm around me, my cock swelling in her warm cunt like it was damn made just for her.
And a second later—many seconds before this was supposed to collapse—our limbs shake with a kaleidoscope of pleasure, both of us feeling it together, groaning together, coming together then flinching when a bout of euphoria hits just at me sliding out from her.
Our brows both raised up in this unusual, magnetic feeling, one glance at the other and it’s not hard to tell.
She wants more.
And so do I.
She guides me back to her glistening, sticky cunt, without a word, without an explanation, when the answer is unwritten and clear.
It’s obvious when I take half my length out of her and push it back in, that she feels what she’s doing to me, how quick my cock swells up at the slightest touch of her, that she knows I can hear the way her perfect ridges slap against my skin on each thrust.
And just in case it wasn’t all discernable, when I pull out enough where she’d think I’m even close to being done, Ana pushes me back forward so quickly that I almost laugh.
But laughter isn’t the appropriate response for any of this. Not when Ana’s grinding herself over my cock to meet my thrusts once I lunge back in.
Sometimes I just fuck her and she takes it all, and other moments we work in sync, driving restlessly to that primal edge together like now.
Feeling her cry out in a lustful need underneath me, her pleasure filling her skin all the way to her toes that she curls against my lower back, I watch as her nipples pierce through the hot air.
“Troy,” she gasps, her voice satisfied.
“You’re going to come all over me again, aren’t you?” I tease.
Her eyes shut tight. “Yes!”
“I didn’t say you could though yet, did I?”
“Please,” Her cheeks gleam tight. “Troy. Please, I can’t.”
The desperation in her voice, how much she needs to hear my approval before letting her pussy feel that ripple of desire, it almost makes me give in.
Almost.
“Yes you can,” I encourage.
“Please. I need—”
When her lashes bat all freely, the way her gaze opens up to mine with a visceral longing for a release, I don’t tell her, but it unravels my heart a little.
“Mm, very well…,” I say, cool, as I pinch her clit with a sigh. “Come.”
Her walls spasm so quickly, so frantically that the friction from that sensation alone makes me grunt deep, thrusting into her a few more times, my balls slapping along the curve of her ass when I hear the wet, breathtaking sound of her pussy walls clicking and clacking.
“Fuck, you’re really trying to kill me,” I rasp. “Do you know how unreal your pussy feels right now?” Her body clamps around my cock tighter, strangling it. “Ana, fucking damn.”
“Oh my fucking God,” she moans out once I slide out of her and we collide against the sheets, “that was incredible. Fuck.”
Before I’ve even had a chance to catch my breath or return back to fucking Earth, Ana turns her face toward me, drops a hand between her legs, bringing two sticky fingers to her lips as she holds my gaze and licks both of them clean.
Feeling borderline manic, her lips part when she feels me poke her outer thigh, and before I know it, I’m tucked between her legs again, having my own lick at the sweet nectar she just made for me, and while I’m down here, I might as well see if I flick my tongue a bit lower how she would respond to that.
Might as well.
When she moans in a different key this time, a razor-like sensation falls on my chest, and I realize that this could never just be sex for me.
_________
When we’ve finally both collapsed over the bed, I go and get a warm towel to clean ourselves up, walking into my room with Ana to her side, her eyes all content and sated.
Needing the electrolytes—and a shit ton of them—I bring us some snacks and water to share in bed, a glass of cranberry juice shelved on the nightstand just in case.
“How’s your stomach?” I ask even though I know I’ve already done that several times in the past two days but I need to know she’s okay.
She looks okay right now.
“Much better,” she says, nibbling on some trail mix. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, of course.”
Ana’s eyes dart toward the small table beside her with a curious smile. “I didn’t know you liked cranberry juice so much.”
There wasn’t even a trace of teasing in her voice as she said the words, and for some reason it makes me frown inside.
Because I don’t like it, I actually hate it.
But Ana doesn’t, she’s loved the beverage since we were kids, leaning on the berry juice when she had an upset stomach, probably why a cranberry vodka spritz is her drink of choice now that we’re adults, remembering the party.
Where she couldn’t believe I brought her one.
Couldn’t believe I remembered a thing about her.
If you only knew.
Somewhere through the cracks, without my notice, I’ve started to worry again for this girl, thinking if she’s okay when I shouldn’t have been thinking of her at all.
And fighting that feels pretty useless—even with the flashbacks of haunting memories her distress undid, the blur of panic attacks learning about her hidden injury unleashed, the one’s I’d thought I’d completely run away from, the pain I’d endure just to see her smile—when she’s all I ever think about.
I need her to know that I care about her.
I want her to know that I care.
So fucking much.
I want her to know that this isn’t just sex for me.
But I also know her better and start to doubt how she’d take this, so I ease into it as carefully as I can, my heartbeat growing erratic.
“There’s an F1 race this Friday, and Dimitri has extra tickets,” I say, my chest straining when Ana’s blinking becomes unreadable. “Do you want to go with me?”
“Like on a date?” she says, her voice teasing like she wants to mock at the idea, but I think I see a wash of pain in her eyes.
“Yes,” I reply because I want it to be a date and I don’t want this to continue feeling like a tightrope where both of us are struggling to balance on.
And when she realizes I’m being serious, what I’m suggesting at, her expression suddenly becomes very readable. And my heart feels like it’s been scratched.
_________
Ana
“You don’t want to date me,” I reply, hoping it comes across lighthearted despite the sudden heaviness in my shoulders.
Both laying on our sides, facing each other, I watch as the possibility of us dances in Troy’s eyes, hating that somewhere, some spot very deep underneath my anguish, a voice in my head wants to say yes.
“Why not?” he asks, his voice without any rough edges, double meanings, jokes, just a pure, honest question.
And my chest can’t bear it.
Before my weakness tries to ruin everything I’ve worked my skin and bone for—all the sacrifices he’d never understand, he’d never relate to—I drop any sense of warmth that rests over my cheeks, turning to face my other side.
Away from tempting green eyes and a face that could make me change my mind.
“You just don’t,” I say because I know that he wouldn’t. Not if he knew.
And because.
I’m a sad person.
I breathe out the truth a good several minutes later, long enough where I can hear him start to drift off and his breathing steady, my heart clinging to my chest when I feel his body shift.
“You’re sad. That doesn’t make you a sad person,” he says quietly, before I feel the sheets dip and his back turn itself against me and my melancholy.
You’re sad. That doesn’t make you a sad person.
I hear it again as I lay awake through the depths of the night.