by Sam Crescent
“No one is there.” Stating the obvious.
“Anya, try thinking positively.” Nathan looked at the boarded-up doors assessingly. But before he could come up with a plan to get into the building, in one swift movement out of the corner of his eye, he saw Anya throw a brick through the nearest window.
“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled.
“Getting us to safety. If this piece of shit is owned by anyone, you can leave a card, offer to pay for any repairs necessary. It’s the least you can do for putting my life in danger,” she accused, moments before she disappeared through the smashed window.
Having no choice, he followed her through.
“Here, help me prop this against it.” They propped a huge cabinet in front of the window, using dust covers to seal it as best as they could. “Wow, at least it’s fully furnished. I take back about it being a piece of shit.”
“We’ll probably go to gaol,” Nathan moaned, opening a door.
“Rather gaol than freezing to death. Why don’t you phone through, see if anyone will be able to come and pick us up.?” Shivering, Anya began to unpack their cases, seeing what they could use, checking the house for any way of starting a fire.
“Nathan…” she yelled, “Do you know how to start a fire?”
“Stop bloody yelling at me, woman! I’m not deaf! There’s no signal. So no way of getting in touch with the outside world. We’re alone.”
“Spooky.”
“This is no laughing matter.”
Hands on hips, Anya stormed over to him. “Do I look like I’m laughing? Hmm? I don’t find our situation funny at all. Now, do you know how to start a fucking fire?”
He nodded, chastened.
After lighting a fire, Nathan went to see how she was doing.
He found her going through the contents of the sack, shivering.
“Jesus, Anya, you’re freezing.” He pulled her into his arms, rubbing her back, trying to heat her up.
“This is no good.” He started pulling her jacket off.
“What are you doing?”
“Take your clothes off. We need to get warm.” He started pulling his own clothes off, showing her his powerful, muscled body.
“H—how is taking our c—clothes off going to keep us w—warm, s—stupid?”
“Remember what Linda and Andrew told us about body heat? Now strip.”
Freezing cold, Anya didn’t bother arguing—she wanted the warmth too much.
Within seconds, they had both stripped off. Nathan moved first, taking her in his arms leading her back to the heat of the fire. Pulling off one of the furniture covers, he draped it over them both.
“You feel warm.” Anya cupped his back, his arse inches away from her touch.
Nathan stroked her back, her butterfly nipple clips digging into his skin, his cock hardening with every passing second. Her body pressed against him, sending pleasure sensations colliding around his body, his skin sensitive to the touch. Her scent hit him—heady, earthy female and desirable woman.
She moaned, pressing closer.
“Stop it, Anya.” But he didn’t pull away. He couldn’t pull away.
“Stop what?” Anya glanced up at him, clear, aching need reflecting back at him.
“This… This is not right.”
“Why not? We both want to. I can feel it.”
“You can’t handle me,” he warned.
“You think I can’t handle you?” Teasing, Anya stroked her nails along his chest, biting into his light smattering of curls.
“No other woman before you ever could.”
Anya smiled. This man had no idea who he was dealing with. She wiggled closer, her breasts flush against his chest, her belly pressing against his arousal. “None of your other women have ever been me.” She moved her hands down until she cupped him in her palm.
“You think grabbing my cock is going to change my mind?”
He didn’t move away.
“No. I just wanted to touch you.”
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
Anya chuckled, his attempt to scare her doing the exact opposite, her swollen clit rubbing against the cotton of her skin-hugging panties
Oh, she really wanted to come.
“What do you want to do to me?”
“Wicked things.”
Anya laughed. “Wicked things.” She pulled on his cock, making him gasp. Ah, she understood. “Wicked things. Do you mean stuff like putting me over your knee and spanking my arse until it shines red from your hand print? Punishment for being a bad girl?” she whispered in his ear. “Forcing me to take all of your cock to the back of my throat till you come, making me swallow every delicious drop? How about fucking my arse, stretched as you pummel this length inside me? Believe me, Nathan, when I say you don’t scare me, I mean it. I would do anything. I mean I would do anything.”
With no warning whatsoever, he grabbed her face between his two large hands, not hard enough to hurt but forceful with passion. Anya gasped. That one simple movement took her breath away. No man in all of her life had ever touched her in such a way. His eyes penetrated her very soul. She could feel him all the way down to her toes. He lowered his lips, grazing hers, the shock of the contact making an electric connection between them. Her hands stayed by her sides.
He pulled back slightly to gaze at her. His lips grazed hers once more, gentle, delicate, a mere whisper of contact. Anya half-feared she was imagining it. He tilted her head, deepening the kiss. His lips opened, his tongue encouraging her to open to him. She met his tongue with her own, stroking his lips, tasting him, absorbing his own unique taste into the furthest part of her brain, where she would never forget him.
Neither of them touched but for the connection of their kiss, a kiss that lasted a lifetime, a turning point in their relationship. Something shifted inside Anya. She didn’t know what, but she could feel it changing her.
He took over, calling to a secret part of Anya long ago hidden in her desperate search for independence.
“Mr Banks…” She pulled away, protesting, frightened of what this all meant.
“No, don’t pull away. Nathan.”
“What?”
“Call me Nathan. I love to hear my name from your lips.” Adamant, determined, he stroked her wayward hair away from her face, exposing her to his searching eyes.
“Nathan.” She tested his name on her lips.
“You truly are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He was enraptured by her glazed, confused expression.
“You’ve not seen enough of the women in the world to make a decent comparison.” Tears shone in her eyes as she tried to smile, his compliment touching her heart.
“No, but I’ve seen enough women to make an average and there aren’t many women with pink hair.”
Anya laughed. She couldn’t help it. “You and numbers.” She cupped his cheek, stroking along his jaw line. “You need to shave.” Her voice was hoarse as she rubbed her cheek along the lines of the stubble decorating his jaw line.
“Consider it shaved as soon as we get to the hotel.”
“It’s a pub, but sounds like a good plan.”
“I want to fuck you, Anya.” Blunt and to the point. He cupped her cheeks between his hands. He heard her gasp, the rise and fall of her breasts giving away her own desire.
“Fuck me,” she told him.
His crushed his lips to hers, his dominant side shining through, taking control His hands were all over her, her face, her hair. He cupped her arse, squeezing the plumpness. She writhed in his arms, coming alive with every daring caress.
“Feels so good,” she panted.
Anya stroked his cock, the tip leaking his pre-cum. She rubbed her thumb along the slit, gathering up his juice, and brought it to her mouth, sucking in his taste.
“Fuck, that’s sexy,” he growled. He glided his finger through her wet, moist heat, then brought his fingers up and sucked her taste into his mouth. Sweet, juicy
, the way only Anya could taste on his lips. She moaned, watching him. He took her to the floor, the soft carpet cushioning her body, the heat from the fire warming her skin. He followed her down, stroking her skin, teasing the butterfly clips. “This is hot.” He flicked one nipple.
Anya smiled up at him, waiting for him to make the first move. He took off the clips, freeing her aching nipples. He handled her body with care, but with a demanding hand, showing her with his movements who was boss.
“Open your legs.”
She opened them slightly, letting him look at her.
“Wider.”
She opened them slightly wider. Impatient, he grasped her thighs between his palms and spread her wide open for his view, nothing covered.
He drew back, mesmerised by the perfection of his woman. He normally preferred a woman to be shaven clean, but instead a neatly-trimmed red bush pouted at him, her lips open and glistening with her leaking juice. Her clit swelled, peeking out, testing his control.
With one arm supporting her head, she ran the other, along her slit, coating her fingers.
He took hold of her wrist, stopping her, then brought her fingers to his lips, sucking her—no control. He dived down between her legs, tasting her, his tongue pushing through her pubic hair, taking her bud between his teeth. A little pressure had her arching off the floor, pulling at his hair, keeping him in place as she thrust her pussy against his face, complete mindless abandon taking over.
He penetrated her tight pussy with three fingers, feeling her walls contracting round him.
“Harder, Nathan,” she ordered, her eyes closed, her orgasm approaching.
Nathan pulled away, drawing it out, making sure she was dripping with her cream before he allowed her over the next tidal wave.
“Harder,” she begged, her voice harsh and rough.
He waited till she cried out with impatience, then he bit down hard, thrusting his fingers inside her at the same time. He felt her walls tighten on his fingers, her orgasm throbbing against his hand. She screamed out his name, her body stretched taut. He eased slowly from her pulsing pussy.
“Fuck me, Nathan. Now. Please.”
No need to ask twice. He positioned himself between her creamy thighs, pressed his penis to her entrance and, taking one last look at her delightful pussy, he pushed forwards, feeling her open up to him, accepting him inside her body, fitting him snugly within her depths.
He stared into her dazed eyes, the moment surreal, powerful, overriding everything that he was. He saw her and saw life. He saw love. He saw his one true woman. The thought stopped him in his tracks. A fiery redheaded witch owned him. He could feel it deep down in his soul. Her arms stroked along his back, her eyes holding his. He took hold of her hands, interlocking their fingers, matching with their hands the love making between their bodies. He took her lip between his, making love to her mouth and body as well as her soul.
“So tight,” he moaned, pulling out and then pushing all the way back in.
“Oh, God.” She screamed as he penetrated her more deeply, taking her to a place she’d never been. In some part of her mind she could feel the possession he was wielding, commanding her body to know only his touch. Denying all future partners the same chance as him. Her body called to him, feeding his hunger with her own. She looked down at their connected bodies, watching his shaft, glistening with her juice, disappear inside her and reappear. She watched fascinated, the best porn film she’d ever seen. A beautiful sight to behold.
“I won’t last if you keep looking at me like that,” he complained.
She looked at him, her thoughts mirrored in her eyes. She knew what he meant—she would not play the innocent. “You’re so beautiful,” she told him honestly.
“I’m not a patch on you,” he gritted out, fighting against his climax.
“We’re beautiful together.” She watched them coming together. She could see his cock getting harder, his breath coming in pants. Sweat dripped between them. She pushed her hips up to meet him, taking all of him inside her, feeling him hitting the top of her cervix. Anya felt him tense. A hard, male shout erupted in the room. She felt his cock punch inside her as his seed erupted.
They collapsed together, heat surrounding them. Nathan didn’t move away from her. Their bodies remained joined.
Neither wanted to lose the soul-searing connection they’d just shared.
They both lay stroking each other, watching the fire burn.
Chapter Four
“Do you think we’ll make it home in time for Monday?” Anya hoped not. She loved the tender way he was stroking her naked back. “That feels nice,” she purred, arching into his touch.
He chuckled. “I have no idea if we’ll make it home. Do you care, Anya?” His hand curved over her arse, slapping the flesh, making her moan.
“I could stay here forever,” she admitted, groaning with each of his caresses over her body.
“You’ve the softest skin I’ve ever felt.” He rolled her over so her breasts were in clear view of his hungry gaze.
Anya gasped as his large hands cupped her left breast, tweaking the nipple.
“So responsive.” With heavy-lidded eyes, she watched him move, rummaging through discarded clothing until he found the two beautiful, glittering butterfly nipple clips. She lay frozen, curious, waiting to see what he’d do next.
He lay back next to her.
“These are the prettiest clamps I’ve ever seen on a woman.” He spoke the truth.
“You’ve seen a lot?”
He smiled mysteriously at the question.
Anya’s hands curled into the fabric of the carpet beneath her back. She groaned out loud, a throaty sound echoing round the walls as he placed a clip delicately on each beading nipple. The sensation shot straight to her pussy. He opened her legs so she was blatantly on display. She watched him as he gazed at her, the juices flowing. He tugged on the hanging butterfly. Anya whimpered, cupping her own ass so she wouldn’t interfere with what he was doing to her. She could feel her juices running into the crease of her arse, moistening her forbidden entrance.
“You like that, sweetheart?” he groaned in her ear, pulling on a clip. She bit her lip, tasting blood. “Don’t hurt yourself.” He pressed a thumb between her lips, making her suck on him. His other thumb pressed on her clit, her essence coating his thumb. She thrust her pelvis up to meet his hands, already feeling the building of orgasm. Unexpectedly, he released the clip. Screaming, Anya went over the edge, the dual sensation creating an unbelievable orgasm that lasted and lasted. As she started to come down from the high, he released the other clip, sending her hurtling into another screaming orgasm.
She came to several minutes later to find him smiling down at her. A cheeky grin that made him incredibly sexy.
“You’re back with me?”
She wouldn’t be embarrassed.
“That was amazing,” she complimented him. “Can I ask you something?” She needed to know.
“Anything.”
“I’ve heard rumours you’re shit in bed. Why?” She searched his face for any change.
Still smiling, he spoke. “I take it I meet your high standards?” He stuck two fingers inside her cunt.
Gasping, knowing he was evading the question, she said, “I know what I like and I’m not ashamed of the fact.”
“I created them on purpose.” He twisted his fingers making her writhe in pleasure.
“You were purposefully awful in bed?” She panted, confusion filled her eyes.
“I’d take a woman home, she’d try to make all the right noises, I’d realise she was faking it. Not turned on by my sexual dominance,” he said. Smiling, he added a third digit, spreading her wide, “I don’t want a woman who fakes her pleasure in my bed. Are you faking now?” He paused, feeling her heat spread onto his fingers. “I asked you a question.” He slapped her pussy, waiting, his hand perched at her fuckable hole. He waited until she finally gasped “no”, quickly, urgently shoving her pel
vis onto his fingers. He continued, “After realising the women are in it to get to your money, it no longer holds its worth.”
Depression hit him as he realised how many women he’d wasted time with, how long he’d been searching, when all the time this little spitfire had held everything he wanted. He wondered if Anya had any idea of the depth of the feelings consuming him right now.
Anya nodded, understanding him. Eerie how much she actually enjoyed his company and his long fingers, how she wished they were as fat as his cock.
“I guess that makes sense.”
“What about you? What made you the way you are?” he asked, genuinely interested. He removed his fingers, slapping her thigh, leaving her wanting more. He chuckled at the outrage on her face.
She rolled over, resting her head in her hands while she composed herself. Thinking. He moved in front of her, stroking her hair—she’d noticed he had a thing about her hair. Smiling wickedly, she leaned over, lightly stroking his length.
“An Italian man named Antonio.” She lightly scratched his balls watching, him tense but not move to stop her. “My first lover. He taught me everything I know.” He winced as she licked along the line of his cock, swirling her tongue over the head. “He wined and dined me and fucked me into an erotic haze.” She suddenly bit, sucking the flesh on the inside of his thigh, her nails digging in, leaving marks. She came away, leaving a satisfactory love bite. Marking her lover. “My body craved his touch, but my heart ached for love.” She dug her nails in, wanting to brand him like a tattoo. “I wanted marriage and babies and making love underneath trees and having romantic picnics. I wanted a man to adore me. But he was married and I was one of many…mistresses, was how he put it, but I felt like a whore. Not everything in life works out as planned.” She sucked his cock deep into her mouth, swallowing his juice. He gasped and fisted a handful of hair, but she moved away, untangling herself with ease, leaving him cursing.
“You could never be a whore, Anya,” he told her, his touch soothing in a way Antonio’s never had been.
“Anyway, I learned fast and I’ve never had a long term boyfriend again. I go for casual sex with no risk of commitment. No risk of getting hurt. That’s my sad little story.” She smiled but a tear escaped her eye.
