“I want to touch you,” she whispered.
She needed to touch him. Everything was spinning out of control. He was the only thing she had left to hold on to as the world unraveled around her. Around them both.
“Touch,” he sighed. “Sweet baby. My coya.”
His coya in private. His whore to his men, nothing more. How much longer could she bear this?
She caressed the hard length of his c**k with slow, easy strokes. Her fingers moved from base to shaft, stroked lower and curved around the heavy sac of his balls. She licked his chest, nipped it, kissed it.
She loved him the only way she knew how. With her touch, with her kiss. Moving lower, knees bending as she knelt before him and licked the engorged crest.
She stared up at him, sucked him into her mouth and watched as his head tilted back, his long hair falling over his shoulders. The broad planes and angles of his face were tight with need now, his lips heavy with sensual hunger.
“God, your mouth,” he groaned, staring down at her again. “Suck me, Anya. Sweet coya. Take me into your mouth.”
His coya. She was his coya here, but nowhere else.
Her lips parted as she drew the thick head inside. Immediately a pulse of pr**cum filled her mouth. As warm as heated syrup, tinged with lightning and male promise. She loved the taste of him. Loved the power and the promise in his taste, in his touch.
His fingers in her hair, the tight flex of his thighs, the throb of heavy veins beneath the silken flesh of his cock.
“Anya. Yes, damn you, I could die in your mouth it’s so good.”
His hips moved, pressing inside the heated depths as she opened for him, took as much as she could and sucked him, lashed the sensitive underside with her tongue. Another pulse of heated fluid and she was wilder, hungrier. Another and she was desperate, whimpering, reaching for him.
And he was there. Lifting her into his arms, laying her across his desk. His lips played with her ni**les, first one, then the other. Hunger enfolded them, surrounded them, sank into their pores as they fought to devour each other.
Her lips were at his shoulder, his on her breast. His hands stroked her thighs, moved between. Calloused fingers rasped through the silken folds as her head tipped back, a strangled cry leaving her lips at the pleasure washing over her.
“I need to taste you.” Heated, rough, his lips moved down her stomach. “All that sweet cream I can smell. So hot and sweet, Anya.”
His lips caressed, licked, kissed to her thighs. Pushing her legs farther apart, he moved to the aching flesh there, his tongue swiping through the wet center as she cried out his name.
She arched, begged. Her legs fell over his shoulders as his hands gripped her rear, held her to him, and he ate her with a pleasure she couldn’t contain. Heated, hungry lips, his tongue an instrument of pleasure and lust. He licked and stroked. Electric pleasure whipped through her, left her writhing beneath each caress.
Her fingers tightened in his hair as his tongue circled her clit, his lips surrounded it, and the suckling, heated pressure began to draw ecstasy to its pinnacle.
The explosion that rocked her had her screaming his name. She ground her sex tighter against his hungry lips, fought for more and then arched into the sensations as they consumed her.
Damp with perspiration, she was waiting for him when his head lifted, his hands dragging her legs around his hips as he lifted her to him.
Thick and hard, his erection was pressing inside her as he collapsed in the chair behind him, drawing her legs around his back as he began to work inside her.
Anya gripped his shoulders, stared into her lover’s eyes and saw all the desperate pleasure, the aching need and loneliness she felt inside herself.
“Too slow,” she moaned. “Harder, Del-Rey. Take me hard and fast.”
His hands clenched on her rear, fingertips delving into the narrow cleft there.
Anya clenched her muscles around the flared head as it lodged inside her. A hard, heated spurt of pr**cum had her whispering his name again. Another had her trying to force him inside her.
“Now,” she panted. “Hard, Del-Rey. Take me hard. Give me everything.”
His black eyes, hints of blue, were fierce with the insatiable need that poured between them.
“Fuck me, wild man.”
He growled, hips flexing, his c**k driving deeper, and he didn’t stop. Thrust after thrust until he was filling her, and he didn’t stop.