“Oh god, Ana—” I groan her name, and she looks up at me, blinking softly.
“Do you want me to suck it?” she asks in a small voice, and I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I should tell her no. I should pick her up, put her back on that bed, and leave the room.
But God, I just fucking can’t.
“Yes,” I groan, reaching out to stroke her hair. “Fuck yes, Ana,please.”
When her lips encircle my throbbing cockhead, I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.
Truth is, after this, I’m probably going to Hell. But it would be fucking worth it.
3
ANA
It feels like I’m not entirely in control of myself when I go down on my knees for him. I don’t even know how I feel, not really. Part of me is furious with him for hurting Alexandre, for taking me away when I’d begged him to let me go. A part of me—the part that struggled with my feelings for Alexandre—is whispering to me that I should be grateful to him, that he’s right that I shouldn’t care for a man who purchased me and kept me as his property, that I shouldn’t want to go back. That I should be glad I’m free, grateful for his offer to let me stay with him so that I don’t have to impose on my friends.
So which part of me is the one that takes over and makes me slide off of the bed and reach for him? Is it the part that thinks I should be grateful, the part that feels I owe him something? The part that Alexandre trained as a pet, responding to her new master? I don’t know entirely, but as I fall to my knees in front of him, I feel a sudden, overwhelming need to do this for him, to give him something in return for all the effort he’s put in to rescue me, even if I’m not entirely certain I wanted to be saved.
He tries to push me away, but it doesn’t sink in. He wants it. I can feel it—his cock is already getting hard just from seeing me on my knees before I even touch him. And part of mewantsto touch him again—I’d wanted him before, after all. Before Alexei, before Alexandre, before all of that, when I’d first met him in Russia, I’d wanted him. I’d kept dreaming about him, even though I’d known I should give up on him, even after I really had.
It’s not as if I haven’t seen and felt his cock before—he was inside of me, in Alexandre’s apartment. But I was too terrified to register much of it then, too confused. Now, as I undo his zipper, reaching inside of his pants to touch him, I barely hear him telling me that I don’t have to. He said he wanted me, so I’ll do this for him.He didn’t even come, I think as I reach for him.I should do this to make him feel better. He’ll feel better once I take care of him.
He’s huge, thick, and long, my fingers just meeting around the width of his shaft. I feel the groan that he lets out when I touch him down to my toes, the sound tingling over my skin, and a flush of dampness between my own thighs.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he grunts, his Irish accent thickening as he swears. That, too, turns me on even more. “Ana, this isn’t—”
“Let me do something for you,” I whisper, stroking my hand the length of his cock, over the straining skin that feels like velvet wrapped around steel, hot and throbbing against my palm. “Liam, please—I should—”
His eyes widen at my words, and his face looks almost tortured, taut with need, and full of guilt. I recognize that expression—I’ve seen it on Alexandre’s face. Lust mixed with overwhelming guilt. I took it away from Alexandre, so I can take it away from Liam, too. I should. I should do this for him.
The head of his cock is glistening with his arousal, the liquid beading at the tip and starting to drip down beneath the tip. I flick out my tongue, wanting to lick it away, to taste him. I lap it up, circling his head with my tongue. The sound that Liam lets out is such a deep groan of mingled arousal and near-pain that I feel my clit throb just from the sound of it, my own pussy drenched and aching as I kneel in front of this gorgeous man, stroking his cock and gently licking the tip of it.
“You taste good,” I whisper, looking up at him, and Liam closes his eyes briefly, whispering something I can’t hear—a curse or a prayer for strength, I don’t know which.
“Do you want me to suck it?” I want to hear him say yes, for him to ask for it so that I can hear it. So that I can hear him tell me to do it and obey him. The thought of obeying him sends a flush of something almost like relief through me—the idea of having someone tell me what to do again so I don’t have to do it myself. So that I don’t have to sort through my own head and figure out what’s right and what’s wrong.
It’s become too hard, after everything.
He looks at me with something like pain in his eyes, and I know I could take it away if he’ll just let me. “Fuck yes, Ana,please,” he groans, and that’s all I need.
I tighten my grip on his shaft, stroking near the base as I lean forward, wrapping my lips around the head of his cock. It throbs against my tongue, more of his pre-cum trailing out, and I feel his hand on my hair, stroking as he gasps with pleasure. It feels good, his hand on my hair encouraging me, his moans telling me that I’m doing a good job. I slide down, rubbing the underside of his cock with my tongue, tracing the veins as I take more and more of him into my mouth. I slide all the way down until I feel the head pressing into my throat, and deeper still, until his cock is in my throat and my nose is brushing the hard muscle of his abdomen, and Liam clutches my hair as he groans aloud.
“Fuck, Ana,Christ,you’re good at that.” His hips arch forward, pushing him deeper into my throat as he grunts, his voice thickening with lust. “God, you’re sofuckinggood at that, such a good girl—”
I whimper with pleasure, holding him in my throat, feeling my muscles clench around him as I choke on his cock. I stay down there as long as I can, letting his hips grind against my mouth, fucking my throat until I have to breathe. Then I come up, his shaft glistening with my saliva as I gasp for breath, still licking the tip as I stare up at him wide-eyed.
“Fuck, Ana. I need more, God, you’re such a good fucking cocksucker,fuck—” Liam’s voice is breathy and almost desperate. I can taste him on my tongue, his cock dripping pre-cum as it throbs against my lips. “Fuck, I want to come in your fucking mouth—”
“You can tell me to swallow it,” I whisper, looking up at him. I feel a sudden deep, desperate need to please him. “Tell me what you want, Liam, please—”
His jaw clenches, his chest heaving, and I can see the struggle inside of him. He’s not as hard to read as most men think they are—but then again, neither was Alexandre. He wants to do what he thinks is right, deep down, and tell me to stop. He wants to walk away from this, go in the other room, and jerk himself off so that he can assuage some of the guilt of wanting me.
And he wants to grab my hair and tell me to suck his cock, fuck my throat and pour his cum down it so that he can finally have the release he so desperately craves.
As conflicted as I am about everything, I want to give him that release, for myself as much as for him. I want the relief that comes with knowing I’ve done a good job, that I’ve pleased the man who is the one taking care of me right now.
“Please, Liam,” I whisper, and I see the shudder go through him. “Tell me what to do, please—”