Chapter 13 - Emmanuil
She bites her lower lip, staring up at me with those chocolate brown eyes. They’re wide and filled with horror after her accidental confession.
Her confession has my cock pulsing so fucking hard that I can barely think straight.
I run my hand down her side, over her waist, along her thigh, then back up again, pulling her dress with it, revealing more of her legs and her hips. My body is electrified, aching for her.
She hasn’t been with anyone else. Why?
Was she not over me? Was it because of me?
No other man has touched her, and it’s everything I wanted to know. There is nothing else she could’ve said to make me want her as much as I do right now.
I want to claim her all over again.
“Why, kitten?” I demand, wrapping my hand around her jaw, pulling her face up towards mine, and growling against her lips. “Why did you never move on?”
She shudders beneath my touch. Fear or desire? They both look the same in her eyes.
Her breath is warm against my mouth.
“It had nothing to do with that,” she blurts out. “It has nothing to do with you.” She says, but I can hear it in her voice. It’s not true. The quiver, the way she’s trying to convince herself.
“I don’t believe you,” I growl, slipping my hands around her ass cheeks and lifting her onto the kitchen counter. I push her legs apart and step closer.
She gasps and tries to shift backwards, away from me. I grab her hips and pull her forward with her legs spread and her pussy pushed against my cock. Her body crashes into mine, and the air is pushed from her lungs. She turns her face to the side, closing her eyes and fighting for self-control.
I have no self-control left.
I rub my hands up her thighs, shifting her dress higher, out of the way.
“If you think it’s because I never got over you, you’re delusional. It’s been years,” she says, breathless, no longer trying to get away. She spreads her legs wider and gasps as I rock my cock against her.
I won’t fight this anymore. She is clay in my hands, mine to mold as I please.
I should have taken what I wanted ages ago; she wouldn’t have stopped me. She’s waited years for me. For this.
My heart beats faster with the realization that I will be inside her again.
I grab her face, my fingers digging into her cheeks as my lips crash into hers. My mouth covers her lips as I claim her with a kiss, pushing my tongue into her mouth and rubbing my cock against her.
She moans softly against my lips, urging me to carry on. Her fingers twist in my shirt as she tugs me closer.
I slide one hand up her inner thigh, between her legs. My fingers brush over her pussy.
She takes a sharp breath and rocks herself against my hand. I slip my fingers beneath the lace of her panties and pull them aside.
She’s soaked.
Beautifully soaked.
And all I want is to taste her.
Grabbing her knees, I step back and lift them, propping her feet against the kitchen counter, spreading her legs even wider. She leans back, her hands against the counter, her back arched as I bend down and press my mouth over her perfect, pink little pussy.
I lick her in long, slow strokes, my tongue lapping up her desire, teasing her as I dip it into her pussy and pull it out again.
I swirl slow circles over her clit, and she moans, threading her fingers over the back of my head, knotting them in my hair, and pressing my mouth tighter against her pussy.
I wrap my lips around her clit and suck gently as my tongue continues to tease her.
Pushing her thighs apart, I thrust my tongue deep inside her and begin to fuck her with my mouth.
She lifts her ass off the counter, squatting on her heels as she rocks back and forth with urgency, the pleasure building, her beautiful moans becoming louder.
“I’m close,” she whispers, remembering the rule we made years ago.
I like to have my cock inside her when she comes. I like to feel every twitch and spasm of her body as it pulses over me.
I tug my pants open and free my cock while I continue to dance my tongue over her.
Grabbing my cock in my hand, I stand up and pull her hips towards me.
I thrust a rock-hard, swollen monster into her tight, wet little pussy.
The pleasure is indescribable. Her body presses over my cock, the pressure of it giving such intense relief.
To be inside her again.
To be this close to her.
To claim her.
She screams and tilts her head back. Her pussy is soaking over me, throbbing and pulsing. I start to fuck her, moving in smooth, steady, deep motions, pushing myself harder and harder into her.
“Now,” she gasps again.
“Then open your eyes and look at me,” I command.
She does so as I press my thumb over her clit.
Her pupils dilate, her eyes shining black, then brown, then black again.
Her lips part, and she stops breathing. Wave after wave of her orgasm slams into her, and I continue to fuck her. My cock is in heaven, my body is flooded with ecstasy at the sight of her pleasure.
She takes in a sharp breath as her orgasm ends, and I continue to fuck her.
I wrap my arms around her and pull her body tight against mine, wanting to feel more, everything, to possess every inch of her.
Knotting my hand in her long, wavy curls, I tug her head back and grip her tightly.
The sweet sounds of her moans are right against my ear.
We move together until my legs feel weak.
I lift her off the kitchen counter and pull out. She whimpers in disappointment.
“Kneel on the counter with your back to me,” I demand.
She immediately obeys me, climbing onto the counter, kneeling, facing away from me. She grabs the back of her dress and pulls it up away from her ass. She’s perfect. I trace my fingers down her spine, into the groove of her ass.
The heat of the moment is growing more intense by the second.
“Bow,” I snarl, and she lowers her chest against the counter, her knees spreading and her perfect little ass arching up towards me. I grab her hips and pull her closer to the edge. She squeals when I plunge into her again.
I watch my cock slide into her pussy and slide out again. I watch how her body moves with mine, how her wetness caresses my cock.
I love the sight of her tiny pussy stretching open every time I thrust into her.
I love the sounds she’s making, gasping, moaning, little cries of pleasure.
Anya stretches her hands out in front of herself, clawing at the counter, her body starting to shake.
“Are you going to come again, kitten?” I ask, pushing deep into her and grinding against her.
“I am,” she gasps.
“I can feel it. I can feel how your pussy is shuddering around me.”
She leans harder into me, and I growl with pleasure.
I can’t hold back much longer.
I slide out and thrust into her harder than before, then even harder, fucking her faster and deeper. She screams as the second orgasm hits her, her pussy tightening over my cock. I explode inside her at the same time, our pleasure intertwined, our hearts beating fast.
For a moment, neither of us moves.
I’m overwhelmed by how incredible it was. Remembering now, understanding exactly what it is like to be with her. How perfect we are together.
My cock is still hard inside her. She shifts, sitting up on the counter, and I slowly slide out. She wiggles backwards, her feet dropping to the ground, her dress shifting up over her body, and my eyes roam freely over those beautiful lines that make up her figure.
I could fuck her again, right now.
Anya turns to face me, and her cheeks are bright pink. She looks embarrassed as she tries to straighten her dress and step away from me.
Fuck.
My heart sinks.
She already regrets what happened.
“Um, I, um, I’m just going to freshen up,” she mutters, not looking at me, biting her lip. Her eyes are darting all over the place, everywhere but at me.
“I was going to make you some food,” I say, wondering if I’m reading this wrong. Did she not enjoy it? Bullshit. I know she enjoyed it. It’s the aftermath she doesn’t seem so happy about.
“I don’t think I’m hungry anymore,” she says quietly. “I’ll make something later.”
“A coffee, maybe?” I ask, not wanting her to leave like this. At least trying to make this less awkward.
“No, nothing, thanks,” she says.
Anya turns away from me and hurries out of the kitchen.
I stand alone, pulling my pants closed, buttoning up, straightening my shirt, wondering what the fuck just happened.
A spike of anger shoots through me.
Except I know it’s not anger at all.
It’s rejection. The same rejection I felt all those years ago.
A deep, shattering pain that screams you’re not good enough for her. She never wanted you in the first place. She never loved you, and she will never love you. You’re worthless to her.
I grit my teeth, trying to push the pain away, trying to shove the familiar ache back into the pit of my thoughts where it belongs, trying to numb myself like I have done over and over again in the past five years.
It’s not working.
This pain is too new, too fresh. The pleasure was too intense.
Lashing out, I pick up a coffee mug and fling it across the kitchen. It shatters against the wall. Broken shards explode in all directions.
I pick up another thing, anything, whatever is closest. I throw the jar of coffee grounds as well. It shatters, and coffee and glass splinter across the floor.
I stare at the mess, my breathing heavy, my chest heaving.
It didn’t make me feel any better. The pain is still there, the rejection still spinning in my head. I can smell her on my skin.
There is nothing left to do but walk away.