Chapter 62
Gen
Part of me wishes I could see Anton. Admire the angry flare of this crown I’m taking out of his trousers. Enjoy the sheer hulking size of his body from my position down here. Revel in the pleasure and anguish I’ll draw across his gorgeous face as I suck him.
But a larger part of me is pleased he’s blindfolded me. Is thrilled he’s chosen to deny me my sight. To skew the power dynamic further in his favour.
Because, since the very first moment I laid eyes on Anton Wolff, I have craved being the focus of his raw sexual energy. I’ve craved having him unleash his insane power over me.
So I’ll submit and endure and enjoy every second of finally being in that position. Where it’s just me and him, and I’m his to do what he pleases with.
As I wrap my fingers around his painfully hard cock, he slides his fingers through my hair and says, ‘Wait. Do you need a cushion?’
‘I’m fine,’ I say, though the kitchen floor is hard as fuck. Kneeling for Anton on a hard floor feels right. It feels more demeaning. But knowing he’s concerned for my wellbeing has warmth spooling around my heart.
His crown is swollen and wet with salty precum.
I lick through it and feel his thigh tense under my palm.
I know how he’ll be, standing there in the beige chinos he’s wearing tonight, the couple of open buttons on his blue shirt showing off a tantalising V of soft, dark hair and his jaw working as he watches me.
I know how much this will do it for him—not just my going down on him, but my being naked and blindfolded, kneeling for him. I know how intensely he’ll get off on this dynamic, and I want nothing more than to bring him to his knees too.
I take his hot, velvety crown in my mouth and lick it like an ice cream, and the harsh sound of him sucking in a breath through his teeth echoes through my core.
I’ve gone down on him several times over the past few, crazy days, but more spontaneously, as part of whatever we’re getting up to in bed, or on his floor, or by his pool…
This is the first time he’s ordered me to get on my knees and suck, and I fucking love it.
I let myself sink into this dark, quiet world where there’s nothing but the smell and taste and feel of him against my lips and tongue and teeth.
The sounds of wet flesh on flesh, and grunting, aroused, barely controlled man, and my breaths.
I find a rhythm, and I float right above my head and the trivialities that usually consume it, focusing instead on making him feel as good as possible. On using my mouth to service him.
He’s so hard. So close. He has my face in a tight grip now, his hands over my ears so the sounds of my breath and my sucks echo, magnified, through my head as he holds me still and fucks his way in and out of my mouth.
He’s so fucking huge, and he’s so desperate for release, that I’m gasping and gagging and scrambling, clawing at his thigh with my spare hand as I try to hold it together and tamp down my gag reflex as much as possible.
My eyes are watering behind my blindfold, my movements are sloppy and unfinessed, and I’m so turned on by being the outlet for Anton’s animalistic needs that I can barely focus on the job at hand.
Right before I expect him to come in my mouth, he releases my head and pulls out, and there’s the undeniable sound of him pumping his cock wetly before jets of his cum hit me over and over in warm ropes.
My tits. My shoulders. My stomach. My jaw.
And all the while, he’s grunting out anguished curses.
‘Fuuuck,’ he groans. ‘Oh my fuck. Jesus, look at you. Shit. Shit. So fucking—’
I barely have time to catch my breath when he’s hauling me up under my armpits.
I briefly register the pain in my poor knees before my arse hits cold marble.
Then his mouth is on me, his tongue thrusting hungrily into my mouth as he groans out his appreciation while he takes a hand and smooths it over my skin, rubbing his cum into my boobs and over my hard nipples and down my stomach.
He’s branding me in a way he hasn’t been able to do yet, thanks to our condom usage.
He pushes his way between my legs and lowers me with a hand behind my head. The marble is cool and soothing against my skin.
‘Knees up,’ he urges me.
Jesus Christ. I’m laid out on his kitchen island for him like a feast, legs splayed, blindfold still on, and totally in his power.
When he speaks again, his voice is more measured. More commanding. He’s wrestled back his control. ‘Remember in my office?’ he asks.
I was just thinking the same thing. This is how Max had me. This is how Anton got to see me, that first time.
‘Yes,’ I reply.
‘Now I’ve got you all to myself,’ he says.
His tone is predatory rather than vulnerable. I should feel terrified. But there’s something about the way he says it that tugs at my heartstrings.
‘I only want you,’ I tell him, arching my body on the marble. ‘You can do whatever you want to me.’
It’s true.
He can.
I feel shameless and empowered like this, because I know the effect I have on him. I’m also at his mercy, and the combination is so heady I may combust.
‘God, sweetheart.’
He presses a palm down onto my pelvic bone, which is sticky and rapidly cooling.
His other hand runs up my inner thigh, and I wish I could see him ranging over me.
I wish I could see those dark eyes as they bore into every inch of my naked, available flesh.
As they take in my pussy, laid bare just for him.
I’m glad we made each other suffer. I’m glad we both underwent the torture. Because I bet what went down in his office will make his victory all the sweeter now. He has me where he wants me, and I know he won’t go easy on me.
I’m counting on it.
‘This is what you wanted in your fantasy, too,’ he tells me.
I can barely breathe. ‘Yeah.’
‘You are such a good girl. You know how it needs to be, and I’m going to make you lose your fucking mind.’
There’s some jangling and the sound of something hitting the island next to me. I roll my shoulders and let my arms fall out to the side in surrender. ‘I need you to touch me, Anton,’ I tell him.
A buzzing noise starts up. ‘Why?’ he asks softly.
It’s easier to be shameless when I can’t see him and when I’m so turned on I might combust.
‘Because I need you to make me come,’ I gasp. ‘You’re the only one who can touch me like this.’
‘Good,’ he says, his voice strangled. I hear the spurt of something wet being squeezed, and I practically lift off the table when whatever vibrator he’s turned on teases the puckered ring of flesh between my legs.
‘Fuck,’ I say involuntarily.