Chapter 9Ana #2
I rely on his strong hands to protect me from losing my balance as I grind my ass against him, the way he’s got me propped up compensating for how much shorter than him I am.
I feel his cock line up along my ass, I feel how hard it is.
I feel the tremor that runs through him despite how steady he attempts to hold himself.
“Please,” I whisper, my tone making it clear how needy I am. “I missed your cock.”
“Oh?”
I look up at him, biting my lip deliberately this time, hopefully to entice him. “Uh huh. I haven’t seen your cock in at least three days. I’m practically dying here.”
He drones a long, low, “Fuuuuuuuuck, baby. You’re still the biggest fucking slut for me, aren’t you?”
I beam at him because I know that, even though his baby sounds forced, his slut is a compliment.
Plus, the arm that was around my waist has mysteriously slid up my torso, and now the stiff fabric of his suit jacket’s sleeve is just close enough to my breasts that with each breath, my nipples tease over it.
“Only for you,” I promise him as I take another big breath .
He gets a wicked gleam in his eye. “Don’t you forget that. Now be a good girl and stroke your pretty little cunt until you come, and I’ll reward you with my cock, okay?”
I blink like I didn’t hear that correctly. I grind more emphatically against him like he’ll have a change of heart. I even try to guide that arm back down so he can feel how badly I want him now.
I want my husband.
I want the release I think only he can give me.
Feverishly, I get this fantasy that my husband’s cock is the key to this lock in my brain, and I just need him to fill me for my memories to come back.
Because clearly this is where our compatibility lies.
I have a lot of doubts about our marriage, a lot of questions he’s dodged that make it obvious we don’t have a great relationship, but I know this part really works.
He steps back again.
“No, Ana. You need to earn this. You show everyone how you like to touch your pussy and how wet you can get yourself, and you’ll be rewarded. That’s how this works.”
I don’t think it is, but I close my eyes. With one arm on the glass to balance myself, I drop my other hand to between my legs.
I’m sensitive. Not sure how long it’s been since I’ve been touched here, but my first tentative brush over my clit has a shiver racing through me and a soft squeak passing through my lips.
Vasily is equally soft with his “that’s it, sweetheart. Right there.”
Ooh. That sounded nice, like a verbal caress. Like his hand is right here with mine as I brush myself again, this time putting a light, exploratory spin on it. Sparks tingle in my core and my brain .
There’s rustling behind me. Vasily’s receded too far into the shadows for me to see his reflection, but I think he’s undressing.
There’s the whisper of fabric sliding against fabric, the metallic click of a belt buckle and the quick snap of the belt sliding through its loops, the zing of the zipper.
I watch for him in the glass, seeking him in those shadows, as I rub myself.
I rest my forehead against the window to free up my other hand so I can explore my breasts, too.
The one I rest in my palm is impossibly soft and silky and pliant.
The boneless weight of it feels good in my hand, and when I pinch my nipple?
“Vasily!” I whimper. “Vass . . . I’m not . . . oh, God, I’m not . . . going to last . . .” I have to bite down on my lip to keep from exploding.
“I’m not going to either.” He says it proudly, with admiration. He’s loving the show I’m putting on for the neighbors across the street.
I should look there, see if anyone really is watching. This is my kink, supposedly. And since I’m doing this, I’m not denying that it is. But I only want to see Vasily, so I search the reflections until my eyes start to cross.
Or maybe that’s the orgasm looming. I’m so freaking close that the foot balanced on the armrest actually contracts and lifts onto the toes.
Okay, my flexibility is apparently great.
And then, like an ancient god monster rising from the depths of the abyss, Vasily steps into the ray of afternoon light, and his reflection takes shape in the window.
He’s naked from head to toe, his body all pale flesh taut over firm planes and heavily ridged muscles, his body dwarfing mine the closer he gets.
I see his eyes shining in the reflection, their intensity practically singeing me.
His hand is sliding over the shaft of his thick cock, its broad head dewy, and my hand takes on a similar motion.
Slower than I was rubbing myself, but with longer strokes that have my fingers reaching back toward my entrance.
“Wife,” Vasily murmurs, his voice nearly a purr, when his attention drops from my eyes to that hand.
“Husband?” I reply in a far more strangled tone, and now not only do I feel my dampness, I hear it as I push my fingers inside myself. I focus on his strokes, on making a connection in the absence of physical touch, and that’s when I see it.
Twin glints between his fingers, twinkling metal.
There’s a piercing going right through the underside of his cock, closed by a steel ball on either side.
Just the thought of how it must feel when he’s claiming me roughly, not just sliding along the sensitive walls of my pussy but rubbing over my tastebuds or spreading my rear entrance, is enough to send me cascading, the orgasm flowing through me in waves of green and blue, leaving my knees wobbling and my pussy desperate to know that feeling again.
Vasily makes good on his promise, catching me with one steel-strong arm as his body bends over mine, forcing me to fold so he can feed his cock into my aching core.
I cry out, my orgasm intensifying again as my muscle spasms suddenly meet resistance.
Thick, dense resistance that fills me fully and stretches me more than I was prepared for, making my pussy riot and gush around him.
“Vasily!” I cry out, my voice echoing off the glass I pin myself to, forcing him to step even closer, to straighten himself and lift me into the window, just so I can watch and so the rest of LA can see how much he stretches me.
He was right.
I love this.
I love letting the entire world see just how much of a slut I am for Vasily’s— my husband’s, every doubt is gone now— cock.
“Oh, Ana,” he groans lowly. “Fuck, you still feel like fucking heaven.”
I whisper, “I love you,” and deep in my heart, I know it’s not the first time I’ve told him that.
He buries his face in the crux of my neck, kissing and biting me, as much a proclamation of his own love as a physical claiming, the roughness of it no doubt leaving behind a mark.
I want him to mark me. I bet I begged for that tattoo. He starts to pump in and out of me, dragging his cock at the right angle that yes, I do feel that ball-capped steel rod as it penetrates me over and over again, and I feel this need to have him mark me every way possible.
I want his cologne all over me, to bathe in his scent so everyone knows.
I want my wedding ring back.
I want to swell with his—
“Wait, wait, wait!” I yelp, hating to stop him but suddenly remembering how I ended up here to begin with. “You forgot the condom!”
He bites again, and it really is hard enough I’m worried he’ll break skin.
He swipes his tongue over the burning dental impression before sliding his nose up behind my ear and whispering, “Never again. You don’t get to leave anymore, dear wife.
And you wouldn’t dare leave me with my baby growing in your belly, would you? ”
I should want to get clarification on that— so I did leave him? Are we separated? Or did I just leave him in the physical sense? Was I kidnapped on vacation?— but the best my brain can do is shelve that information to revisit later.
Vasily suddenly pulls me from the glass, just a step, just enough that I can still rest my forearms on it as one giant hand engulfs my breasts and the other goes under the propped-up leg to reach up and dig into my soft belly.
He pistons into me more quickly, jerking his hips to make sure I feel it every time he bottoms out inside my heat, stamping his claim deep inside.
I want what’s in his hands to fill. I want what he grabs to be firm and swollen because of him. I want my body to be reshaped by his.
I moan as I melt into him, my every sense overloaded, overwhelmed by him. It doesn’t matter who I am. Nothing matters except being his.
“Please, Vasily, please give me a baby!” I beg as I lose all control, not caring one bit as his hand goes around my neck and my head flops over his shoulder, as my oxygen dwindles and my vision sparkles and fades, as my muscles give out and I’m all but inviting him to impale me.
Vasily comes with a roar, surely loud enough that anyone else with an office on this floor will hear it, only to quiet down into soft grunts as he continues to rock into me, pushing his cum deep into me with each jerk of his cock.
He only releases my neck once he’s done unloading within me, but he keeps his hand stretched across my collarbone while I come back to Earth.
“I love you, Vasily,” I whisper again.
His eyes meet mine in the reflection, and despite the obvious lethargy and satisfaction, I swear there’s a mean glint in his eyes.
But he says, “You’re mine, Ana. Forever,” so I must be mistaking possession for meanness.
And there’s no mistaking his pleasure when my pelvis rolls over his cock, still embedded within me, and cum starts to leak from my pussy, down his shaft, onto the hardwood floor between his feet.