“I’d rather not. That’s another subject that will make me lose my appetite.”
“Is that so?” I ask her, suddenly envious of spaghetti.
She sucking more of them down her mouth and, at my words, she stops when the last of them disappear into her mouth. I grab the noodles this time, holding them over her lips. I hold them a little high so I can watch while her delicate neck stretches up. She sucks them into her mouth slowly, her eyes on me the entire time. She’s del
iberately trying to turn me on, even while she’s blushing wildly. The combination is sexy as hell.
“Not like you. I mean, I was talking like a father, but he doesn’t really qualify for that either. He gives the term ‘dead-beat-dad’ a new meaning.”
“I see. And your mother?” I ask her, already knowing the answer but enjoying the way she’s opening up so frankly to me. No games. No hidden meanings. Ana doesn’t do mysterious or coy and I like it. She’s also not trying to buy me with sympathy. Too many women have tried to make me their meal ticket by giving me sob stories. It never seemed to matter that I didn’t really care what their stories were. Ana might be different in that respect too—yet another surprise.
“She split before my father did. Though she did make appearances here and there, mostly when she needed money. I won the lottery in the parental department,” she says, reaching around for the bread. She grabs a piece, but before she can do anything with it, I take it away. She starts to protest, but I pinch a corner off of it and pop it into her waiting mouth, letting my finger slide over her bottom lip, the butter from the bread makes the touch on her lips smooth.
“Who raised you?”
“My father didn’t go MIA until I was sixteen.” She shrugs, leaving me to fill in the blanks. Which I do.
“Was it just you and your brother?” I prod, wondering exactly what she will say.
“Yeah. Drink, please?” she asks this time, instead of getting it herself. I get the water and guide it to her lips. She scrunches up her face but takes a drink.
“I’m not really a water drinker,” she says.
“It’s good for you.”
“So’s spinach. I find I don’t like it, either,” she says, her nose curling.
“But water is very useful.” I put the glass down on the table.
“To grow spinach?”
“To make you wet,” I tell her, shifting her body so that she has a leg on either side of me now and her back is against the table.
“I know of other things that do that,” she whispers, biting on the corner of her mouth again, which I’ve come to realize is a nervous gesture of hers.
I reach into the glass with one hand capturing a piece of the ice. I flick the sash to her robe loose, revealing one of her breasts. I put the cube into my mouth sucking it in and then letting the tip out. I lower my lips to her, letting the ice hover there. She sucks the tip, her eyes open.
“Roman,” she whispers brokenly, her voice laced with hunger. I lean down so I can rake the ice down her chin, following an imaginary line down her beautiful neck. An immense feeling of satisfaction comes over me when I see the trail of wetness I leave in my wake. Her head is back, allowing me access, and after a couple of passes down her neck, I move to her breast. I circle the outside. Ana really has gorgeous breasts. They’re big, but not obscenely so. I can cover them with my hand and they are full, soft, and pliable. Perfect, really. I move the ice around her areola. Her nipple, which was already hard, is pebbled so tightly it looks painful. The ice is almost gone, so I move to her other nipple, letting the icy water drip down. It’s stunning to watch the way the water drips and runs around the nipple and then along the fine ridges that have been made on her areola because of her excitement. I watch until I can’t anymore, and then I take the nipple in my mouth, my tongue swirling the last remnants of the ice around, and I suck it so hard it may bruise. A combination of the cold and my mouth makes Ana cry out. Her hands go to my head and she tries to drag me into her. When I finish, I pull away to look at the stormy violet depths staring back at me. They’re full of hunger and need.
“Your dinner is getting cold, pet,” I remind her, doing my best not to grind against her body. My cock is as hard as brick, pushing up against her bare pussy. The sweatpants I pulled on do nothing to block out the feel of her.
“I’m not hungry for food,” she whispers.
My hands flex into her hips, biting into them, and even the sting of that doesn’t bother her. I pull her roughly to the side, using my hand to swipe the dishes from the table. They fall to the pristine granite floor in a heap of broken glass, porcelain dishes, and food.
“What are you—” Ana rasps, grabbing my shoulders tight as I stand up, placing her on the table.
“Having my dinner. I’m starved,” I growl, putting pressure on her chest so she falls gently back, flat against the table.
“Roman, the mess—your maid,” Ana whispers, but I ignore her. My fingers bite into her ass as I pull her into me.
“Fuck the mess, pet,” I tell her, just before my tongue pushes between the lips of her pussy and her taste fills my mouth. What is it about her? What is it that makes this woman irresistible? When I was younger, women were a must. For a while now though, building my business and making my name took precedence. I’ve had a few partners. Handpicked, backgrounds checked, and contracts signed. Sex is a business just like every other thing in my life.
Until now. I’ve broken every rule I’ve ever had with Ana. She’ll definitely be mixing business with pleasure, considering I’ll most likely kill her brother.
There’s no contract in place, which is a major concession. And here I am, a grown man of forty-two, diving into the pussy of a woman I haven’t had medically examined. That should be enough to cool me off and make me pull back. The fact that it’s not is worrisome, but right now I couldn’t care less.
“Roman,” she breathes.
If you can get addicted to the way someone says your name, then I am definitely there. I flatten my tongue and slide it through her cream until I hit her swollen clit. I suck the nub into my mouth, using the pressure and my teeth to tease and torment it. Her hands reach for my head and I pull up.
“Keep your hands down, Ana. I’ll give you everything you need.”
Her body jerks in response and her hands slam down on the table. I use my fingers to pull the lips of her pussy apart. She’s beautiful. All feminine heat that is slick, wet, pale pink with darker hues slowly fading in. A work of art. I blow across the tender flesh and watch the skin react, as her clit literally pulsates. I put two of my fingers against the needy little button. Then I slowly drag them over her clit and further down until I get to her entrance. There I push the fingers, which are now coated with her juices, into her tight channel. Again my dick reacts strongly by pushing up towards her like the desperate bastard he is. He wants inside her. I want inside her. I try to hold on to why I am denying myself. I’ve never had a problem with doing that before. I never lose sight of the prize and I keep a tight leash on my desires. Ana has already managed to get me to loosen the reins way too much. I will not take her pussy until things are clearer, ground rules are set, and her body is demanding me beyond anything she’s experienced before. I want Ana bound to me … at least until I’m done with her.
I groan because her whole body physically shivers at my invasion. The walls of her pussy clamp down on my fingers, trying to pull them deeper inside. I begin moving them in and out of her, loving the way her juice pours from her and the wet sounds it makes as I fuck her slow and hard.
“More,” she whimpers, her hands going up to palm her breasts. I watch, fascinated at the way her fingers bite into those plush mounds. The skin stretches as she pulls on her nipples. I should reprimand her for taking that privilege, but it’s too beautiful to watch. It’s so erotic I want to watch longer, but I can’t resist her pull. I place a kiss against her clit and then slide my tongue around her sweet pussy, gathering all the cream I can find while I continue to fuck her with my fingers. When her body starts thrusting up to meet my fingers and her moans grow louder, I know she’s near the edge.
“Are you close, pet?” I ask her, allowing my breath to fan over her pussy before sliding my tongue back against her clit and twirling it over and over, sucking it into my mouth.
“Yes,” she whispers, her voice full of desperation as she tries to grab hold of her orgasm. “Oh God, Roman. I’m coming.” The last part of her sentence is drawn out in a long
whine of need.
I pull away, leaving my fingers inside of her, but refusing to move them.
“Did I give you permission to come, Ana?”
“What? No!” she cries, her body shaking so much I can watch how it quakes.
“You can’t come until I tell you to, pet.”
“Roman!”
“I’m going to play with you a little longer. If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you come.”
“Yes!” she cries as I pull my fingers out and then thrust them back in. Her body bows, trying to latch on tight enough to give her what she needs. Every movement she makes is poetry. I thought she was beautiful dancing. It was nothing compared to this. And her taste. It’s like nothing I’ve experienced before and far more addicting than any drug. I can’t resist diving back in. I let my tongue move along the heated folds of her pussy, sliding my tongue inside with my fingers. I repeat that a couple of times, working in tandem to excite her even more, until I finally direct all of my attention back to her clit.
I know I’m pushing her past her limits. I know that she doesn’t have the discipline needed to pass this test. I have no business even bringing her this far into my world without ground rules. I know all this—I just don’t give a fuck. In my mind, I’m yelling, Don’t come, Ana, even knowing she will. I have fallen under her spell. She’s been so naturally submissive up to this point that I could forget this is new to her. I doubt she even realizes how truly submissive she is.
“Roman, I’m coming,” she gasps, which is really her undoing, because now I push her further.
“Not yet, pet,” I warn her before I suck her clit into my mouth, humming against the nub while pushing my fingers deep inside of her. I pull my fingers apart, stretching her just as my teeth bite into the tender flesh of her clit. The sting of pain throws her over the edge into a climax. I give her just a little more, allowing her to fully go over the edge. Then, it takes every bit of willpower I have to take my mouth and hand away, ensuring that her orgasm, though complete, never truly takes her where it could. It just leaves her needing more.