Satin Princess(62)

But the self-consciousness has seeped into my bones. I fidget on the bed, a doe caught in the hunter’s spotlight. “Anton…”

“Say my name again,” he growls. “Say it while you come for me.”

He’s so authoritative that I find myself listening. It’s strange at first, but the way he looks at me slowly dissolves all my shyness. I don’t have to fantasize anymore. I don’t have to concentrate hard to make it real.

His gray eyes are exactly how I imagined them.

“I want to see you touch yourself, too,” I beg softly, knowing that he’ll hear me.

He pulls off his shirt and my pussy throbs hungrily. His abs are absolutely spectacular.

He saunters closer to me before he unbuttons his pants and pulls them down along with his boxers. His cock jumps free and my mouth waters.

His hand wraps around his large shaft and he starts fisting his cock slowly. His eyes stay on me the entire time.

“Anton…” I whisper his name while my own fingers move deep inside me. Just like he asked.

He doesn’t smile, but I can see his eyes flare with desire.

I don’t know what’s going to happen between us. Will this fraught, tenuous relationship last? Will we end up raising this child together? Will he disappear from my life when he gets bored of me?

Tomorrow might bring answers, or maybe it won’t. All I know is this: for the next hour, for as long as it takes to come undone together, the answers don’t matter. Neither do the questions.

All that matters is us.





21





ANTON





If I could construct a single fantasy of my perfect woman, it would be the angel lying on the bed in front of me right now.

Her darkened eyes are fixed on me. Her blonde hair is fanned across the pillow, a few silky strands fluttering over her face. The nude slip she’s wearing is thin enough that I can see the contours of her body. She has pulled the hemline up and the neckline down, exposing her breasts and her pussy. She probes herself with her fingers, exposing just how wet she is.

I palm my cock. My body craves hers so deeply that it’s all I can do not to explode at the slightest touch. I wonder what it would feel like to see her beautiful face covered in my cum.

Just then, her tongue flickers across her thick bottom lip.

“Take off your clothes,” I order.

She sits up immediately, eagerly, and pulls the slip off. Then she falls back into the mattress and strokes herself with even more urgency.

A little moan escapes her lips as she twirls her fingers around her clit. I match her pace as I masturbate to her bouncing tits.

Her eyes roam from my face to my abs to my cock. I can tell she wants to touch me. I can tell she wants to be touched. But there’s something incredibly intense about this heightened moment that comes from denying ourselves and each other. The knowledge that our individual pleasure is twined together, each made even better by the other person getting off.

She lets out another moan. This one is deeper, more dangerous. I grit my teeth and push back the urge to orgasm. I want to drag this moment out long enough to watch her come.

Then I’ll fill her up just like I filled her with my baby.

She slides her fingers out of herself and sits up. “Anton, I want you to touch me.”

Well, so much for resisting temptation. How can I fucking resist that?

I climb into bed with her, my knees sinking into the soft mattress. Before I push her down and devour her like I want to, she leans in, grabs my shaft, and sucks me into her warm mouth.

Her cheeks hollow as she sucks and her hands work the base of my cock as she licks my head. Then she slides my length into her mouth, taking me deep.

She gives me head like she wants to leave her mark for eternity. She holds the moment, her throat tightening around me before she pulls back, breathless and gasping.

I cup the sides of her face and force her to look up at me while my cock rests on her parted lips. I want to frame this image in my head. Put it in the goddamn Louvre.

“What do you want?” I ask her in a low rasp.

“I want you to fuck me,” she murmurs. “I don’t care how.”

I don’t care how. I nearly laugh out loud. Jesus, this woman still doesn’t know what she’s doing to me.

Or, more to the point, what I’m capable of doing to her.

I push her down onto the bed and twist her around. She gasps as I force her onto all fours in front of me. I study her round ass, running my hand over it before I give her a light slap. She jerks forward, but the moan she releases is undeniable.

I grab her hips and bend forward. When I slide my tongue against her slit, she screams.

It’s clear that no man has ever gone down on her this way, because she tenses instantly, growing self-conscious.

“Anton…”

“Relax,” I tell her before going back down again.

I take it slow, ignoring the urgent strain of my cock as I play with her pussy. I slide my tongue down her lips before pushing between them.

She goes nuts as I start eating her out. Whimpers and twitches and moans until it all turns into helpless screams, helpless thrashing, helpless coming.

Her head hits the mattress, her body collapsing from the force of the pleasure, but I don’t let up. I grip her hips and bear down on her clit with manic intensity.