21. Anton
ANTON
I keep fucking her until I’m seeing stars.
She groans my name and everything inside me detonates. I stay buried deep, forehead pressed between her shoulders, breath hammering against her skin while heat roars through every nerve.
Her cunt milks me slow, tight pulses that force more aftershocks from my body, each one dragging another low curse out of my chest.
When I finally lift my head, she’s still folded over the desk, cheek turned, lips parted, eyes closed like a woman who has just been worshipped properly.
“Stay there,” I rasp. “Don’t move.”
She laughs faintly, ruined and smug. “Wasn’t planning on walking away.”
I drag my cock out of her sweet body and step back, watching a flush spread across her back. Her pussy gleams, swollen and drenched, twitching once as my cum starts to spill. I catch it with my fingers before it can drip to the floor, slip two inside her again just to watch her legs shake.
“Anton.”
“I said stay.”
I pump my fingers gently, pushing my release back into her, never taking my eyes off her.
She moans at the sight, thighs trembling.
I grab her waist and turn her to face me.
She wobbles and I lift her, set her on the edge of the desk again.
Her hair is messy enough to prove what I’ve been doing to her mouth. I’m perversely proud of that.
“Look at you,” I say softly.
She arches a brow, still breathing hard. “Look at you.”
I push a stray lock behind her ear, then cup her jaw. “I’m not done fucking you.”
She smiles with the kind of lazy satisfaction that makes me want to pin her down and start from the top. Her lips part when I run my thumb across them, still swollen from taking me deep in her throat. She flicks the tip of my thumb with her tongue like she’s tasting me again.
“What are you waiting for?” she murmurs.
“Nothing.”
I haul her off the desk and carry her to the couch by the window, dropping to the cushions with her straddling my lap. Her legs wrap around my waist instantly, hungry, needy, exactly what I want. I take her mouth with a savage kiss, tongue thrusting, my hands gripping her ass hard enough to bruise.
She moans into me, fingers digging into my shoulders as she rocks against my half-hard dick.
“You feel that?” I grind up against her, letting her feel the twitch under her wet heat.
“That you’re already hard again?” she says, biting my lip. “Yes.”
A growl rumbles up from my chest. I grab her hair and tilt her head back, exposing her throat. She gasps but doesn’t fight me.
Sofiya never fights me when I touch her like this, and it kills me every time. I mouth down her neck, biting, licking, rolling my tongue across her collarbone until she whimpers and claws at my back.
“Take the shirt off,” she says against my ear.
“You take it off.”
She leans back and does exactly that, yanking it over her head and tossing it away. I look at her, completely naked now, flushed, chest heaving, breasts tight with arousal. I palm one, squeezing, teasing her nipple with my thumb until it pebbles hard. She moans, pushes into my hand.
“I love watching you fall apart,” I tell her.
“Then make me fall apart again.”
I roll her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, tweak harder when she gasps, then duck my head and suck it into my mouth. Her back arches, pressing deeper. I bite lightly, soothing the sting with my tongue, then move to the other breast.
My hands slide down, gripping her hips, guiding their movement over my cock. Each grind sends sparks through me.
“You’re teasing,” she says, voice wrecked.
“You teased me first.”
She rocks harder, rubbing along the length of me. I grip her tighter. “Tell me how badly you need me, Sofiya.”
“I need your cock.”
“Where?”
“In me. Everywhere. You know what I want.”
“Say it.”
“In my mouth, in my cunt,” she whispers, eyes blazing. “In my ass when you finally stop pretending you don’t want that too.”
My control snaps. I seize her by the waist and flip us, pinning her against the cushions. Her laugh chokes off as I loom over her, teeth bared, cock throbbing against her lower belly.
I kiss her hard enough to bruise. She wraps her legs around me again, heels locking at my back. I slide a hand down her stomach, fingers combing through the slick mess between her thighs. She’s soaked. My cock twitches.
“You feel that?” I press two fingers inside her again, curling, thrusting hard enough to make her groan loud. “That’s how hungry you get for me.”
“Yes.”
“Grip me.”
She clenches around my fingers, hips rolling up to meet each pump. I bite her shoulder, mark her skin, suck hard enough to leave a purple bloom.
“Anton,” she hisses.
I pull my fingers free and shove them into her mouth.
She sucks them clean, glaring at me like she might kill me later for the position I’ve put her in, like she might kiss me while she does it.
I drag my wet fingers down her throat, across her chest, lower, until I reach her clit again.
I circle it lazily, enjoying the way her breathing turns ragged.
“Please,” she says quietly.
That word, from her, finishes me. I line myself up, rub the head along her slick entrance, then thrust in, slow and steady, stretching her again until I’m buried. Her eyes close, a moan spilling from her lips.
“Fuck, you’re perfect.”
“Move,” she gasps. “Don’t stop.”
I start to thrust, hips grinding, long strokes that have her gasping. Her nails rake down my back, then dig into my biceps, clinging. Her cunt clamps around me, tight, velvet, soaking. I watch her face, watch every flicker of pleasure, every bitten curse.
“Harder,” she begs.
I give her what she wants, slamming harder, faster, my hips pistoning, the couch rattling under us. Her breasts bounce with each thrust. I lean down and suck a nipple again, biting, licking, muffling my groan in her skin.
“Anton, fuck!”
“You love this,” I pant. “You love taking my cock.”
“Y-yes—”
She tries to say more and fails because I angle my hips and hit that spot inside her that makes her scream.
“Right there,” she cries. “God, yes.”
I hammer that spot, driving into her, sweat dripping down my back. The sounds echo—wet, raw, her moans, my curses.
“Touch yourself,” I order.
She snakes a hand down and presses her fingers to her clit, rubbing fast. Her body bows, eyes rolling. I watch every second, dizzy with how badly I want her to come again on me.
“You close?”
“Uh-huh,” she gasps. “Don’t stop. Anton, please—”
I grip her hip and fuck her brutal, relentless. Her thighs shake. She shudders, then seizes, crying out as her orgasm crashes over her, clenching tight and pulsing around me. I thrust through it, milking every tremor, panting into her neck, letting the flood drag me closer to my own edge.
“Good girl,” I murmur against her ear. “Give me everything.”
She whimpers, still shaking, nails digging crescent moons into my skin. I kiss her as the last tremors fade and keep moving, slower now, deep, savoring the way she trembles after.
“You’re still hard,” she pants.
“Of course.”
She drags her hand down my stomach, cupping my cock where it disappears inside her. “Keep going.”
“Get on your hands and knees.”
She smirks. “Yes, sir.”
She rolls and I pull out, watching her crawl to the top of the couch, bracing herself on the back cushions, ass high, back arched, hair falling wild to one side. She looks over her shoulder, eyes glittering.
“Come get it,” she says.
I grip her hips and slam back into her, bottoming out with a groan. She hisses, shoving back against me, greedy. I haul her closer, one hand at her waist, the other sliding up her spine to wrap in her hair and pull her head back.
“You’re mine,” I tell her.
“Always,” she whispers.
I fuck her hard, hips cracking against her ass. The slap of skin fills the room. She yelps when I spank her, then moans, pushing back into my hand.
“You want more?”
“Yes.”
I spank again, leave red imprints on her perfect ass, then soothe the marks with my palms. My thumb dips between her cheeks, teasing the tight ring there. She gasps.
“Anton—”
“Later,” I murmur, rubbing lazy circles. “We’ll get there.”
“Promise?”
“Oh, yes.”
I pull her hair harder, bending to bite her shoulder. She whines, grinding back.
“Say my name.”
“Anton.”
“Louder.”
“Anton!”
I thrust faster, chasing my own release now, breath ragged, sweat slicking my chest. Her walls flutter, still sensitive, but she takes every thrust, hungry.
“You love being filled with me,” I pant.
“Yes—”
“I’m gonna fuck you every day you let me.”
“The hell you are.”
“The hell I am,” I correct, snapping my hips. “You’re mine.”
“Yours.”
That word pushes me to the edge. I reach around, rub her clit hard while I pound into her. She wails, keening, voice raw.
“Ooh, Anton! Anton!”
She spasms around me again, coming for a third time, and that’s it—I slam deep and spur, cock swelling as I empty into her with a guttural growl.
My vision blurs. Every nerve is nothing but heat and Sofiya and the heaven of being buried inside her while she contracts around me, milking every last drop.
I stay inside her, panting. She slumps forward, cheek against the couch, body limp. I kiss the back of her neck, breathing in the scent of sex and sweat and Sofiya.
“Stay there,” I murmur again, softer. “I want to watch it drip out of you.”
She laughs weakly. “You’re a deviant.”
“Yes.”
I pull out, watch my cum spill down her thighs, trail high on her ass. She shudders, moaning. I slide my fingers along the mess, scoop it up, and push it back inside her, ignoring her gasp.
She collapses onto her side, then rolls onto her back. I lie beside her on the couch and push a damp strand of hair off her face. She turns into my chest without thinking about it, warm all over, skin flushed, body loose in the way that only happens after I’ve fucked her senseless.
I pull the throw down from the back of the couch and drag it over her, then over both of us when she makes a tired sound and hooks one leg over mine like she plans to stay exactly where she is. Fine by me.
“You’re heavy,” she murmurs against my throat.
“You just came three times. Your judgment is impaired.”
Her laugh is weak and pleased. “You count.”
“I count everything.”
I run my hand down her back, slow now, feeling her settle by inches. Her breathing evens out under my palm. She needed this more than she wanted to admit, and so did I.
She lifts her head enough to look at me. “You’re still thinking about freight.”
“Yes.”
“That’s romantic.”
“I just spent an hour inside you. Don’t get greedy.”
She smiles at that, lazy and gorgeous and more dangerous to me than any man I’ve met. I touch her mouth with my thumb and she bites it lightly. “Careful,” I say.
“You started it.”
“I start most good things.”
She gives me a look, but she settles closer instead of fighting. I drag the blanket higher over her shoulder, then reach for the water I left on the side table and hand it to her. She drinks because she’s smart enough to know I’m right when I hand her water after sex.
I smile down at her. “Alive and hydrated is my favorite version of you.”
“Liar. Your favorite version is naked and cooperative.”
I lean down and kiss her forehead, then her temple. “Cooperative was never part of the appeal.”
That quiets her for a second. Then her hand slides up my chest and stops over my heart. “Anton.”
“Yeah?”
I cover her hand with mine and wait.
“I love you.”
Everything in me goes still for one second, then settles into place so hard, it feels like something locking. I tip her face up and kiss her slowly this time, no bite, no punishment, no power play. Just her mouth and mine and the truth sitting there between us.
When I pull back, her eyes are wet enough to shine. Mine probably aren’t much better. “I love you too,” I say. “You difficult, reckless woman.”
She smiles against my mouth. “That sounded sincere for a criminal.”
“I’m full of surprises.”
“No,” she says, curling into me again. “You’re full of freight problems and bad timing.”
I laugh into her hair and hold her tighter. “Also true.”
For a minute we stay like that, tangled under the blanket with the city beyond the windows and the work waiting ten feet away on the desk. Then she lifts her head again, looks up at me, and says the thing only Sofiya would say right after this. “We still have work to do.”