25
We trip over each other from the car to the front door, our mouths at a more desperate pace to reach each other, faster than our legs can carry us inside. Anders slams the door shut, and I kick my heels off, the ache of wearing them for too long making me flinch and buckle.
“You okay?” Anders pauses mid-kiss.
“Yeah,” I say, “just my feet.”
In answer, he grabs my ass with both hands and lifts me in a swift move.
Instinctively, I wrap my legs around him, grinding my body closer to his. My dress hikes up, and his fingers dig into my skin, bare from the thong I wore to prevent any lines.
“Jesus, Lucinda,” he says, feeling all the exposed skin there, his mouth traveling down to my neck.
There’s a small clattering approaching us. I turn my gaze, and my heart nearly bursts from its chest.
Sora turns the corner, head tilted as he inspects us.
“You got Sora?” I say, my voice thick with sudden emotion.
“It’s why I was busy,” he explains. “Dainese was helping me with the adoption papers.”
I love you. I love you. I’m pretty sure I’m hopelessly in love with you.
The words are stuck in my throat, so I move to get off Anders and greet Sora.
He tightens his grip on me. “Please, Lucinda, give him a wave, but I need you now.”
“Then take me now.”
He carries me swiftly to his room, shutting the door with his foot.
Ribbons of light from the moon glow over us as he slowly takes me to the edge of his bed, dropping me softly.
I grip his neck, try to pull him to my mouth.
Anders pulls away, his hands on my thighs as he goes on his knees. His mouth presses against my inner thigh, his fingers gliding up it, slowly, up and up as he brings his tongue to follow before he reaches the curve of me.
He looks up at me through thick lashes, a desperate, devoted heat burning in his gaze. “I have wanted to taste you from the moment I met you.”
Before I can think of a response, he presses a kiss over my panties. He starts from the bottom, skips the middle, and comes down from the top, and ends up below where I need him again.
When I shift, try to maneuver so he presses where I need him most, he chuckles.
“So impatient,” he says softly into my skin, before pressing a kiss at my center.
The pressure of it has heat branching off into every other part of me. He digs his finger under the fabric, yanks it to the side while sucking my clit into his mouth in a swift, hard pull.
Stars burst throughout my vision.
My head tilts back, my body arches into his mouth. He presses his thumb against my skin, pressing down so that my clit is entirely exposed as he licks and sucks the very tip of it.
My eyes drift shut. I bite my lip so hard I taste my own blood, but it’s nothing, nothing compared to Anders devouring me.
He pauses. “Look at me.”
Even his voice adds to the growing heat flooding me. I lean my head down, my fingers reaching to dig into his hair. His gaze is piercing, intent, as he grips my thighs and spreads them farther before feasting at my center again.
The pleasure skyrockets through me, my legs overwhelmed by all the sensations, and I try instinctively to shut them, to bury him farther into me, trap him between my thighs. He keeps a tight grip as he devours me, and small, needy whimpers begin to rip through me like a desperate chant.
The possession continues until they become loud, desperate pleas of Anders’s name.
The explosion comes so suddenly and quickly, my heart stalls as I moan out his name—scream it when he doesn’t let up, when he digs himself deeper into my thighs, and I grind on his face, finish on his tongue.
My heart pounds in my chest, in my ears.
Anders pulls away, slowly getting up from his knees so he can reach my mouth. His fingers sweep the side of my face. “Taste how sweet you are, Lucinda.”
I open my mouth, and he slips his tongue inside. My eyes roll to the back of my head as he kisses me, my body molten hot, my skin tingling in ways it’s never before. As desperate as the rest of me, my fingers graze his shirt, pull and pull till he gets the cue and lifts it off.
The shadows of his abs are thicker in the dark, and I want to lick every crevice of them, of him. I want my mouth on every possible part of him until I have explored the entirety of the map that is Anders.
I grab my dress that’s crumpled around my waist and pull it off, exposing my bare breasts.
Anders reaches over, pressing a hot kiss to me before pulling away and moving toward the nightstand. He turns on the lamp and returns to me.
“Good,” he says, tensing as his gaze snags on my breasts. “I want to be able to see you while I’m inside you.”
In answer, I yank the string of my thong so hard it rips, the scraps falling uselessly to the floor. My legs spread as wide as they can. Anders wants a full view of me, and I could not deny him anything he could possibly want, ever.
Not like this, now, when his gaze is trained on me like I’m all he has desired, that this is what he’s worked for his whole life. To take me, in every way he can.
“I’ve thought of you like this,” I say, my hand sliding down my chest. “So many times, right next door, stopping myself from coming into this room and filling myself with you.”
He sucks in a breath before unbuttoning his pants, and my gaze is trapped on the movement. His long, hard, artist’s hands remove his pants, his underwear, and I watch with rapt attention as his hardened cock pulses before me.
“Did you touch yourself when you thought of me?” he asks, squeezing his length.
My gaze goes hazy as I watch his fingers close in around himself. I nod as I follow the movement, see the veins all along his length.
“Show me,” he says, “how you touched yourself.”
My fingers move across my chest, until I cup my breast, squeeze it in my palm, then reach down to my center. It’s soaked from Anders already, and my fingers slip trying to find my most tender area to press down.
My mouth pops open at the pressure, the spot already too sensitive from what’s been done to it. I squirm against my fingers, pinching my nipple.
Like he can no longer handle being a spectator, Anders yanks me to the center of the bed, his knee spreading my thighs open, before his body presses against mine, his mouth enveloping my breast.
His teeth take a small bite of my nipple, and I let out a whimper. Anders answers with a slight rumble of a growl, a pulse of hardness where his length pushes against my thighs. His mouth presses hot kisses from my breast all along my collarbones.
When he reaches the space below my ears and I gasp, he spends extra time there, his tongue tracing small circles before he sucks the skin there, his hand reaching down my stomach until his fingers rub into my center and I buck into him.
“It feels so good,” I manage to get out between whispers.
The praise makes him work harder. His mouth moves to the other side of my neck, giving it equal attention as I grind onto his fingers, faster and faster, wetter and wetter.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” Anders says, fingering me, his face hovering over me. “I want to watch you come over and over again.”
Another needy whimper escapes me as the heat builds and builds. I writhe against his hand, my heart hammering against my rib cage. It’s more pleasure than a human should feel; it’s torturous and overwhelming, and I need more of it, endlessly.
“Anders,” I plead. “I need you inside me. Now.”
“Anything you want, beautiful.”
I watch as he positions himself. He grabs his cock, then guides it between my folds, moving it up and down, drenching himself in me.
“I’m so wet,” I say, my words no longer able to reach a decibel above gasps. “I’ve never been this wet before.”
He grits his teeth as I arch myself up, letting myself feel every inch of his length.
“I’ll do this for you, always,” he says, the tip of him finally, finally pressing inside me. He takes it slow, maybe to not hurt me with his size, maybe to slow down what we’ve built up for so long.
A strangled cry escapes me, and Anders groans as my legs wrap around his waist, and I pull myself up until he is buried inside me. I tighten myself around his cock, and heat burns through my center, throughout my body.
His jaw is tense as he slides in and out of me, all of my slickness coating him, making soft, wet sounds as he takes me faster now.
“I’ve thought about this,” Anders says, “imagined the feel of you, imagining the way you’d look with me inside you.”
“And?” I pant. “Is it what you imagined?”
“Nowhere near.” He rocks into me. “Not at all as good as you feel, Lucinda.”
“I love the way you say my name.” I match his pace, slamming into him in desperate, fast knocks. “Like a prayer.”
“I’d gladly worship you.” He rhythmically pounds into me, enough to steal any ability to speak.
The sensation of Anders inside me is better than any touch thus far. I squeeze his cock as much as I can, relishing in the sounds of his almost pained groans.
He grips my waist, pulls me up until we’re sitting upright, and I’m able to fully ride him, my hands digging into his shoulders, using him to stabilize myself as I jump, pounding myself into him, filling myself with as much of Anders as physically possible.
His mouth travels from my mouth, my ear, my neck, sucking and kissing every available surface as we press into each other, our bodies equally desperate to rejoin each time we separate.
“I’m going to come,” I manage to get out, my breath ragged.
“Come,” Anders says, “again, and again.”
“You too,” I plead. “Inside me. I need to feel you. Please.”
He slams his mouth over mine, slipping his hand between us, his thumb circling my clit without losing the rhythm of sliding inside me.
Now, instead of needy whimpers, ragged shouts echo out of me between kisses, incoherent sounds of pleasure, Anders’s name said like a prayer, my center pulsing as euphoria sweeps over me like a tide.
My body racks itself with sobs, my eyes burning with tears as I scream his name. Hot liquid pools inside me, and I squeeze, getting out as much as I can from Anders. Pleasure pulses through me, Anders jerks inside me, and a final cry rips from me as I come along with him.
My vision is freckled with white spots, my breath comes in rapid gasps, and my legs grow limp and useless. He drops his head into the curve of my neck before moving up to my mouth, taking his time, laying soft, sweet kisses like dozens of thank-yous.
When he pulls out of me, I cry out, a sudden burst of pleasure hitting me in an aftershock. If I could move my legs, I’d want to get on my knees and start all over, tasting him.
For now, I push my fingers inside me, feeling the mix of my and Anders’s come, and bring it up to my mouth and suck.
Anders’s jaw tenses, and he grabs my wrist, pulling my fingers from my mouth to his, sucking before leaning down and kissing me until I’m dizzy. He pulls away, presses another kiss on my temple, then walks to his en suite bathroom.
He returns with a small, wet hand towel and cleans me off with gentle, slow movements, pressing kisses where he wipes along the way.
Heat flushes through my cheeks initially. I nearly tell him I’ll do it myself. When I think about it, no other lover has ever cleaned me up after we’ve had sex. Not even my ex-husbands.
Anders must see something on my face because he asks, “What’s wrong?”
“Not wrong,” I say, then, with even hotter cheeks from the admission, tell him what I was thinking.
He drops the towel beside me, leans down and holds my face in his hands. “Lucinda, I’m going to treat you like you deserve; I promise you.”
“Do you mean it?” I ask, humiliated at how small my voice sounds, at the sudden fear of it not being true, and worse, the hope that it will be.
He pulls my hand to his mouth, presses a kiss on my palm. “I’ll prove it to you.”