34. This is the End
THIS IS THE END
PARKER
“This is demeaning.”
“It’s part of the process,” Anders argues.
“You’re spraying the shower head right up my fucking ass,” I mutter sharply, adding a “sweetheart,” and clearing my throat at the end to lighten the mood.
I’m gripping onto the shower tile for dear life as Anders is popping a squat and giving me possibly the worst rinsing of my entire life.
“Oh, so for you, it’s an ass…” Anders mutters flatly. “But for me—she’s a pussy.”
I hide my amusement and force myself to harden my expression. “Yep.”
“Why?”
“Because, uhh—fuck, Anders. Go back to the other setting.”
He’s going to murder me. This is the end.
“I asked you a question, you big fucking baby,” he laughs, lessening the water pressure. I’m pretty sure he had it on the fucking jet setting.
“You fuck a pussy,” I explain, balling my hands into fists. “So in the context—”
“All animals are equal,” Anders cuts me off. “But some animals are more equal than others…”
He finally reaches up to turn the water off, and I let out an immediate sigh of relief. “Referencing Animal Farm just makes this worse,” I tell him.
“How?”
“Because you’re fucking hosing me off!”
“How odd I can have all this inside me and to you it’s just words…”
“Anderson, please.”
“Jesus, Petchka. Relax,” he nags. “All I’m trying to say is…you’re setting a double standard here.”
“You only care so much because you’re the one who gets fucked in the ass.”
“So you admit it’s an ass!”
The moment he rises to his feet, I turn and push him up against the shower wall.
He lets out a nervous breath, completely taken off guard.
“No,” I mutter slowly, leaning into his ear.
My hand drifts down to his crease. I lightly brush my finger over his pucker, it twitching as soon as I make contact. “This is a pussy.”
“Park,” he breathes. His voice weakens immediately.
“My pussy.” I push my middle finger through—his tight, warm walls immediately closing around it. “And God, she’s so fucking tight.”
Anders’ breath hitches. “You’re insane.”
“So insane.” I nip at the shell of his ear. “Did you take care of my special girl for me while I was gone? Hm?”
“Mhm.”
“I sure hope you didn’t touch yourself,” I murmur. “Because you know better.”
“I don’t think I do.”
Something warm pools in my stomach, satisfied and wildly charged with untamed desire. A week of no sex does things to a man… “I should bend you over my knee.”
“I think,” he exhales weakly. “You’re just mad I douched you.”
I lean my forehead against the top of his head and laugh. “I might be mad you douched me.”
He takes a hold of my wrist and turns around. “If you don’t want to do this, then you don’t have to.”
“No, it’s not that,” I shake my head, sliding my hand up his cheek. “It’s just…” I swallow hard.
“What’s wrong?” Anders asks. He brushes his hands up and down my arms.
Somehow, the steam in the shower mixed with the reluctance to admit that I don’t do this often makes this feel absolutely terrifying. Not the act itself, as much as it’s the fact that Anders sees me as this experienced older man who’s completely confident when it comes to intimacy.
Sex is easy. It’s natural. Primal.
Giving myself over to him sickens me from how vulnerable it feels.
It’s one thing to be the one who gives it, but being the one who receives—especially in a dynamic like ours—it opens up a part of me that I will never be able to close.
I’m letting him in, but I’m also dropping basically my final shield.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” I ask him instead.
His expression falls into a sultry gaze, lips sitting at a pout and eyes clouded with desire. He drags his finger aimlessly across my chest. “I wanna know what you taste like, Pet’ka.”
Fuck.
And then he drops back down to his knees and cups my balls. Pleasure immediately prickles through me, running down my spine and spreading like it’s viral.
He dips his head down and sucks my tip into his mouth, warm and wet. His hand shifts up and down my shaft with a rhythmic ease. “Turn around,” he murmurs softly.
It feels painfully ironic in the way that I’m the nervous one right now. When I flip the other way, I feel his hands brush up the back of my legs. “You’re so fucking hairy.”
“Genetics,” I mutter, squeezing my eyes shut and grounding myself with the feeling of cold tile beneath my palms. “God—Jesus, Anders!”
He pries me open and spares no time licking up my crack. I always forget how weird it feels. Slick and wet and completely exposed. But the warmth is what gets me the most. His mouth. His tongue. The soft, vibrating buzz I feel when he hums. It all crashes through me at once.
“You taste so good,” he murmurs, tongue lapping over my hole. “You were right. It’s sweet.”
“God,” I groan, watching behind me in awe.
Anders smiles with his eyes as he continues to work his tongue through my tight, puckered walls.
I thread my fingers through his wet hair, holding on tight.
The stronger I grip, the harder he seems to eat me out.
“That’s so fucking good, baby. You like eating ass, don’t you? ”
I reach down to stroke myself, still completely captured by the seismic wave of pleasure that drives straight through me. I feel myself sway, balance slipping.
“Mmm,” he purrs. “Daddy. I love it.”
My cock twitches in my hand. I clench my jaw, unable to hold back the bellowing grunt that breaks through my chest.
The rest of the world dissolves after that. Before my mind catches up to me, I’m carrying Anders out of the shower. I cup his jaw and slam my mouth to mine as I carry him to the bed, our dripping wet bodies soaking the sheets.
“Hands and knees,” I order. I let out a low, satisfied growl, standing with my arms folded across my chest as Anders blindly complies.
“Good. Show me your pussy, Anderson.” Anders slowly reaches behind, his fingers trembling as he spreads his cheeks.
His pale skin deepens into a fleshy pink, revealing his tight little pucker that twinges with excitement.
“You take good care of her, don’t you? Keep her nice and ready for Pet’ka to play with? ”
“Yes,” he murmurs faintly. His delicate flesh glistens in the soft, warm glow of the light as beads of water drip down his back. When a breeze hits him right, his entire body shivers. Goosebumps pepper across his creamy skin.
“That’s good, baby,” I coo. “You can touch yourself now.”
He reaches down to stroke himself, but I click my tongue and give him a disappointed grunt. “Not that,” I chastise, amusement looming in my tone. “I want to watch you play with your ass, sweetheart.”
Anders exhales unevenly, letting his cock hang between his legs.
“I’m sorry, Pet’ka. I won’t do it again.
” The sweet way he says it is poisonous.
Infecting. Makes my mind go to dark, untamed places.
He automatically corrects himself, spitting in his hand and spreading it down his crease.
His fingers tremble, like he’s exploring himself for the first time, brushing over his entrance with a deliberate slowness.
But I know exactly what he’s doing. He’s putting on a show for me.
“How does that feel?” I ask weakly. It’s impossible to look away as he narrows in on himself.
“It tickles,” he whispers. “Feels like she likes it, Daddy.”
Holy shit. “Who does?” I croak.
“Mmm…my pussy…it f-feels really good back there.”
Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m pacing towards him and moving his hand out of the way. Grabbing onto his cheeks, I lean down and spit. My thumb circles the outside of his cunt, rough and deliberate.
“Mmm,” Anders buzzes, craning his head back to watch intently. He gives me a lazy grin. “Feels so good.”
“Yeah?” I smirk, adding a little pressure. “Only Pet’ka gets to touch you here?”
“Mhmm.” His expression flickers. “Whenever my Pet’ka wants.”
Jesus Christ. “Fuck, Angel,” I groan, slapping his ass. “Turn around for me.” I don’t even need to tell him what to do next.
Anders grips my cock and feigns a shy look as he pecks at my tip, staring up at me though his long lashes.
“You want soft kisses?” he smirks, puckering his lips.
Something sharp shoots through my entire body as he rubs the head of my cock across his lips.
He gives me a few gentle pecks, smiling like he knows exactly what this is doing to me.
I nearly lose it the second he takes my dick into his mouth.
His lips wrap around me carefully at first before he settles into a rhythm, soft and warm and devastatingly eager.
I thread my fingers through his wet curls, guiding him slowly, trying to stay grounded while pleasure climbs hot up my spine.
Anders has always had this terrifying ability to make me drop all the restraint and control I try so hard to maintain.
There’s an undying possessive streak in me that comes alive around him.
He feeds it without even realizing—every time he gives himself over to me so willingly, like he doesn’t understand what that kind of devotion does to a person.
It makes something dark and hungry in me sit up and pay attention.
Makes me want too much. Not just his body.
Him. Every unguarded part of him no one else gets to touch. Every fucking ounce of it.
And then he looks up at me with those bright, open eyes—completely unashamed, completely sincere.
It hits me all over again how dangerous this is for someone like me.
Because Anders makes it impossible to separate lust from intimacy.
With him, it all bleeds together. Desire becomes tenderness.
Possession becomes devotion. Love becomes something frighteningly consuming.
“God, boy,” I grunt softly, brushing my thumb along his cheek. “You do things to me.”