“Liam!” I scream his name when the orgasm crashes over me, bucking and grinding against his fingers as they rub my clit fiercely, more of my arousal flooding out of me, over his hand, onto the sheets. “God, that feels so good, please don’t stop, please—”
“Oh, I’m not going to.” His voice deepens, thickening with lust. “I haven’t gotten to taste you yet.” His fingers slow down, easing me down from the orgasm, still brushing over my sensitive clit. “You’re so fucking wet, Ana, and I love that. I want to taste it, to lick it all up, all of that sweet pussy that you’ve gotten so wet for me, my good girl.” His hand grasps my inner thigh, pushing my legs that had tightened around his hand open. Before I can say anything or catch my breath, he moves down to lie between my legs, his fingers shifting to spread my pussy open for him so that he can see it all.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. It feels so good. I feel shy and embarrassed and aroused and wanton all at once, flushing red at the realization that I’m so exposed, every inch of my pussy bare to his gaze, but at the same time aching for more, still turned on despite the orgasm I just had.
“I’m going to eat your pussy until you scream,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my flesh, and when his tongue flicks out to slide over me, from my entrance up to my clit, I very nearly do exactly that.
“Liam, no–I don’t deserve it, you don’t have to–” I try to protest, my words are stolen by the gasp he elicits from me as his tongue circles my clit, his fingers holding me open so that he has complete access, his mouth pressed against my aching pussy as he eats me like he’s starving.
He pulls back just long enough to look up at me with those intense green eyes darkened with lust. “Quiet, Ana,” he says, his voice firm and commanding. “The only sounds I want to hear from you now are ones of pleasure.” He taps my clit with his index finger, and another shudder of pleasure washes over me.
“I’ll decide what you deserve,” he growls. Then he bends his head again, his tongue sweeping over my clit in a long, hot lick that leaves me trembling, my fingers clawing at the sheets as my back arches, and I gasp again.
It feels disloyal to think it, but it feels better than anything I’ve ever felt, even with Alexandre. Liam goes down on me like he has no thought for anything other than my pleasure, lapping at my clit until he feels me starting to shudder. Then he fastens his lips around the throbbing nub, sucking as he strokes my folds, and I can feel them, swollen under his touch. My skin is so sensitive that every brush of his fingers, every circle, and lick of his tongue feels like it burns across my nerves, the pleasure intensifying with every second that passes. The feeling of him sucking on my clit is incredible, pushing me closer to the edge. Then I feel his fingers brushing against my entrance, the tips of one and then two starting to slide inside of me.
“Liam—” I mean for it to be a protest, but it turns into a cry of pleasure as he thrusts two fingers into me, curling them as he strokes me gently, thrusting in small, short motions that push me over the edge, my thighs tightening around his head as I arch my back, grinding shamelessly against his mouth as I come for a second time, hard on his tongue.
He groans as he sucks my clit, his tongue lapping up every drop of my arousal that gushes from me as I writhe against his face. I think for sure he’ll stop when it’s done, that as I shudder and cry out he’s just waiting for me to finish so he can be done with this.
But he doesn’t fucking stop. My clit is almost too sensitive, swollen, and pulsing in his mouth. He circles it gently with his tongue, his mouth pressed tightly against me as he keeps thrusting his fingers inside of me, harder and faster now. He’s driving my body to the edge again as he keeps licking, his tongue sliding over my folds, down to my entrance where his fingers are thrusting, and back up to my clit, flicking against it until I’m gasping. I moan aloud when he presses his tongue against me, rubbing as he fingers me hard and deep, and I know I’m going to come again. I hadn’t thought it was possible, but I’m on the verge, and when he pushes his fingers deep inside of me, finding a spot that I hadn’t even known was there.
I nearly scream his name, thrashing on the bed as the third orgasm rolls over me, Liam licking and fingering me through it as if he’s never going to stop, as if he wants to wring every drop of pleasure my body is capable of out of me. And it feels incredible—I’m dizzy with it, the world narrowing down to the heat of his tongue and the inexorable thrust of his fingers. I think I might pass out as the orgasm washes over me, wave after wave of sheer pleasure.
When I finally come down from it, trembling on the bed, Liam slowly slides his fingers out of me, stroking my outer folds gently as he pulls back and kneels between my legs. He looks down at my flushed face, my parted lips as I gasp for breath, and he smiles.
“I knew you could come for me like that,” he murmurs, raising his fingers to his mouth. I watch, my skin tingling as he licks my arousal off of them, and he rests his hand against my outer thigh, feeling me twitch under his touch. “Good girl, Ana. You taste so sweet; I knew it would be that good.”
I don’t know what to say, and I couldn’t form words even if I did. Liam slides off of the bed, looking at me lying there in my rumpled dress and tangled hair. “Do you want a shower?” he asks calmly, as if he hadn’t just made me come three times after I sucked his dick. He’s still half-hard, I can see the outline of his cock, but he ignores it, focused entirely on me. “I don’t have anything here to help you walk, but I can help you if you want—”
“Um—I can walk, somewhat.” I flush again, knowing that after how he saw me in Russia, he must think I’m completely helpless. “But I could probably use some help, after—”
Now it’s Liam’s turn to flush slightly, a pink tint on his cheekbones above the red and brown and gold of his beard. It’s strangely attractive to see this powerful man blush a little, and it makes me like him more.
If only Alexei had never kidnapped me.Alexandre would never have bought me, and I would be back in New York. Liam wouldn’t have had the guilt to spur him to come after me. Still, maybe he would have remembered anyway—maybe he would have met me again, at Caterina and Viktor’s second wedding, perhaps. We would have connected without all of the baggage we both carry now.
I’d been drawn to Liam from the moment I’d met him, and I think there was a connection there too. There must have been, for him to go to such lengths to come after me—it can’t only have been guilt. But now, after everything Alexandre and I did and the strange, convoluted feelings between us, after what he made Liam do—
How can there ever really be anything between us?
What just happened doesn’t change anything. And I know deep down that it shouldn’t happen again. More than anything, I shouldn’t have sex with him again—or allow him to think that he can fuck me.
I push myself up from the pillows, and Liam takes my hand without question, his hand on the small of my back as he helps me stagger towards the hotel bathroom. For a second, I hesitate, expecting him to pick me up—Alexandre wouldn’t have even let me get out of the bed under my own power. He would have picked me up and carried me all the way to the bath.
But then I realize Liam isn’t going to do that. He’s more than happy to help me, but there’s no hint of treating me like an invalid or a doll, the way Alexandre had. He knows I’m capable of getting there mostly on my own, and he’s not going to push more assistance on me than what I need.
Was Alexandre caring for me or infantilizing me so that he had complete control over me?Does Liam respect me more because he’s helping me instead of simply carrying me there?
I’d grown so used to Alexandre treating me like his little doll that I’d forgotten what it felt like to do things for myself. But it feels good to carefully make my way towards the bathroom, Liam’s strong, long-fingered hands steadying me as I go step by step.
As I open the shower door, reaching for the taps, he lets go of me as if I’ve burned him, stepping back quickly. It’s an odd reaction for a man who only moments ago had his mouth buried between my legs, but I don’t say anything. I glance back at him and see an uncertain expression on his face as he stands there, his hands hanging at his side as if he’s not sure what to do with them now.
“Do you—” he swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Do you need any more help?”
It occurs to me that I could say yes. I could tell him that I need him to help me undress, that I need help showering. I can imagine his hands on my body, touching my bare skin, skimming over my nipples, his fingers wet and slick as they work their way between my legs again—
Am I just trying to trade one man for the other?Alexandre is gone, and Liam took me from him. I don’t know whether to be angry with him or grateful—I don’t know which is the right thing to feel—but I shouldn’t crave the pleasure he can give me just as another way to forget.
Just like with Alexandre, the caring and pleasure and praise make all the pain go away for a little while, all the terrible memories, all of the things that make me want to curl into a ball in the dark and scream until I’m hoarse.