39. Anastasia
ANASTASIA
How many more statements can this man make that’ll tear me down from the inside out? Make me want to be more for him and to be with him. Not to change myself, but to reveal every crevice. Every memory, every horror, and every dream.
Especially if I’m his dream.
I stopped dreaming ages ago. They’re pointless fantasies that taunt the mind with hopes to later be crushed. At least, that’s what Papa taught me. Nero may prove to be different.
Instead of addressing the bigger emotion attached to the even larger statement, I push my hands into the bed to sit up and comment on his first part about staring at me. “If all you do is stare, I’m revoking my permission to make this different with you.”
Never. Never ever have I once considered giving a man my submission.
By allowing his mouth between my legs and making me vulnerable enough that I lose my mind and senses, unable to truly focus on anything but the sensations he’s wrought.
Never have I wanted to be beneath a man.
And never have I, since the last person Papa forced me to fuck.
Submission was a sign of them. Because they made me weak while themselves bigger and better.
Grown men breaking down a younger woman simply for sick thrills.
Once that whole reign of terror ended and Papa was gone, I vowed to never allow a man to yield sex over me again.
Finger, tongue, or cock—only I’d decide where, when, and how I interacted with any of them.
“If you’re not continuing, then…” I reach for his belt, fingers barely brushing the leather before he pushes me back down to the bed.
“Later.” His voice is gruff. He climbs onto the bed and kneels between my legs. “I don’t trust my body to not end this if you touch me, and we have a long night ahead of us.” He jerks his belt off, then undoes the button before his bare cock rises between us.
Long and thick, with precum dabbed at his tip. His taste still lingers in my mouth from days ago—sweet, salty, and heady. More importantly: powerful.
He presses himself against the bed, loops his arms around my thighs, and yanks me to the edge until my ass barely hangs on. If I didn’t have faith in his grip, I fear I’d fall.
“Like this.” He takes his cock in his hand. “I’m not on top of you, nor are you on top of me. If you want up, let me know.”
Oh my—He pushes inside me. His cock, as thick as his three fingers, erases any passing emotional thought about him and replaces it with him. The feel, the sound of his low “fuck” as he sinks farther inside. My breath hikes and my body adjusts, thighs clamping his arms to keep him in place.
“God, you feel good, cara mia.”
Something about that nickname while he’s inside me makes my stomach clench with every disallowed emotion. He thrusts inside me harder, faster, and for once, I stop. Stop thinking, stop feeling anything but him. Just…stop.
“Nero,” I can’t help but whimper when his cock hits the deepest parts of me. My hands clench the bed when his fingers dig possessively into my skin.
Actually, he looks possessed. A man lost to pleasure, and it’s a beautiful thing. Not like the past, where I was used and discarded. No, Nero gazes at me like he’s seeing nature for the first time.
He watches me like I’m special.
He hikes my legs higher, parting my thighs and reaching so deeply inside me, there truly is no start and end to us. The bed creaks, my vision blurring as pleasure pokes the edges of my consciousness. He’s hitting every sensitive nerve, and there’s no way to stop it. No way to even ignore him.
“Nero.”
“That’s it,” he croons. “Come on my cock. Give me your pleasure. Drench the sheets. You look so beautiful. Give me what I don’t deserve.”
On the only command I’ll ever obey, I do. As he continues, murmuring every praise and pretty thing, my body tightens—accepting him—and I fling myself into the ocean. The underworld of blue flames. Him.
His thrusts keep pace as my orgasm rolls through me, over and over until my body gives up, gives in. He slows eventually. “There is no better sensation than having your pussy clench around me.”
“There’s no better feeling than you inside me.” I reach to pull him down on top of me. We briefly disconnect when I push my heels into the bed to move up the mattress, but he’s quick to follow and quicker to fill me up again with a shared moan.
Legs and arms wrapping around him, I pull him down for a kiss, cutting off the start of his question. My hips rock into him from below, and I reach for his hands, which he fuses his fingers between mine.
“You won’t hurt me, Nero. You’ve proven it.” He keeps proving it.
He stops moving for the briefest second, something passing over his expression. A mystery melded with a question as his eyes flit to the farthest part of the room and back.
“You honour me,” he murmurs. His hand dips between us to stroke my clit. The gentleness seems to seep out of him then, and his hips crash against mine in a bruising manner. He grabs my hands and hoists them above my head, rendering me submissive to him.
I like it. Only with him.
And then he fucks me into the bed until the mattress threatens to swallow us whole. Until we both cry out. He isn’t gentle. He isn’t slow. He’s taking my trust and running with it the exact way I need because he knows me.
When warmth floods my insides, he still doesn’t slow down. Even when he’s straining, his grip tight enough to bruise me, he doesn’t slow. He takes me to the edge again and again until my pussy clamps tightly around him and I hand myself over to him.
I’m barely three breaths in from both of us coming down, sweat and hot air filling the space, when he rolls to the side and takes me with him. Back to his chest, his cock against my ass, he hooks a hand behind my thigh and hoists my leg over his hip, spreading me.
“What are you doing?”
He doesn’t answer. Not with words anyway.
He moves the head of his cock to my core before he sheathes himself in a single motion.
My head slumps to the bed as pleasure rockets through me, my body unable to keep up with the ongoing rotation of orgasms. Exhaustion tugs, my body unable to participate at this point.
“Now, neither of us are on top.”
He wraps his free arm around me until reaching my breast, then plucks the nipple, going between the two of them as he rolls his hips against me, the angle of his cock hitting depths I barely knew to exist.
“Fuck, Nero. Fuck me.”
“Oh, I am, cara mia. Tonight, tomorrow—every night.”
“That sounds pretty alright with me.”
Those are the final words I manage before he drags me through another orgasm and drops me off a cliff on the other side. When he finishes again, he stops moving but doesn’t dislodge from me. Rather, he tucks his arm around my hip and drops his head behind mine until we’re spooning.
Also another first.
“Can I stay?” With his nose, he brushes hair off my ear to lick up the sweat coating my neck. “I have a lot more I crave doing with you—and to you.”
“You’re crazy if you think I’d kick you out after this.”
He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me against him. He retrieves the blanket to cover us from the rest of the room, the party beyond, and the guests.
I fall asleep in his arms within minutes.
Curious.