Chapter 112: Anna the Dominator *
Life was truly unfair sometimes.
While some were trying very hard to catch some sleep after an intense night battle and cold shower, others were experiencing a different kind of night battle in a cold shower.
"Maybe we shouldn’t have left those two alone in the bathroom..." Chloe suddenly muttered. Gromda who was sleeping under her, caressing her luscious hair with her huge hands nodded.
"She will definitely do something. She’s insatiable!"
She spoke in her native language which was easier to speak for her instead of English. Thankfully, Chloe understood it too, making their conversations easier. The only problem was the vixen in the bathroom with Silas.
***
Speaking of Anna and Silas, the two would be shocked at what was currently happening to Silas in the bathroom. He lay in the tub with a shocked expression as Anna lay in between his legs with her mouth open wide, and her eyes glowing with a deep golden light.
As to why Silas was shocked... Well, his dick was nowhere to be found. He could feel it but not outside, but rather inside a certain someone’s mouth... no throat.
Silas’s hands found the edges of the tub, his knuckles white, his breath trapped somewhere between his chest and his throat.
Anna’s mouth was a furnace. He could feel every inch of himself inside her, could feel the way her throat had stretched to accommodate him, could feel the muscles there rippling and contracting as she held him at the root, her nose pressed against his pelvis, her golden eyes looking up at him from beneath half-lidded eyes.
She wasn’t choking, and she wasn’t struggling. She was rather enjoying this.
A low, guttural hum vibrated through her throat, and Silas’s whole body seized, his hips jerking involuntarily, trying to drive himself even deeper into that impossible heat. Her hands pinned his thighs to the porcelain, holding him still, and she pulled back slowly, agonizingly slowly, until only the tip remained between her lips.
He gasped, finally remembering how to breathe.
"Anna-"
She swallowed him whole again before he could finish. (I seriously wanna use an emoji here, but well...)
This time she moved faster, her head bobbing with practiced rhythm, her tongue working the underside of his shaft with every stroke. The sounds were obscene, wet and sloppy, the glide of saliva and friction, the soft gagging noises she made when she took him deeper than any human throat should manage. Drool escaped the seal of her lips, trailing down his balls, pooling on his skin, and dripping onto the bath mat with soft, steady pats.
Silas’s head fell back against the rim of the tub. He was already close. Too close. The exhaustion from the battle, the cold shower, the shock of her pulling him into the bathroom and dropping to her knees before he could ask a single question, it had all left him raw, sensitive and stripped of every defense.
"I’m gonna-" he managed, his voice cracking.
Anna pulled off him with a wet pop.
The sudden absence of heat was almost cruel. His cock stood slick and aching, glistening with her saliva, and twitching in the cool bathroom air. He looked down at her, desperate and confused. He couldn’t understand how he got into this situation.
But she just smiled, seductively, and shook her head.
"Not yet."
Her voice was a purr, low and satisfied, like she had all the time in the world, like he was a meal she intended to savor course by course. She was being wickedly sexy.
"Anna, please-"
She took him again, but slower this time. Her lips wrapped around the head, her tongue circling the sensitive rim, and she held there, teasing, torturing, and watching his face contort with the effort of restraint. His hips tried to thrust, and her nails dug into his thighs, a sharp warning that made him freeze.
Don’t move.
The message was clear without words.
She sank down again, inch by torturous inch, her eyes never leaving his face. When she reached the base, she held, letting him feel the full depth of her throat, the way her esophagus pulsed around him like a second hand gripping and releasing. Her hands came up to cup his balls, rolling them gently, her fingers pressing with just enough pressure to push him toward the edge without letting him fall over.
He was shaking.
His whole body was shaking, his breath ragged, his hands fisted at his sides, his cock buried in the throat of a woman who looked at him like he was the most exquisite thing she’d ever tasted.
She pulled back again.
Then went down again, faster and deeper.
The rhythm built, wet and relentless, her mouth a tight, slick channel of suction and heat. He could feel every ridge of her palate, every flex of her throat, every droplet of saliva that coated him as she worked him toward climax with methodical precision.
And then she stopped right on the edge, right where a single stroke would send him over. She lifted her head, her lips still brushing the head of his cock, her golden eyes burning with amusement.
"You taste good," she said, her voice husky, wrecked. "But I want more."
"I can’t-"
"You can."
She swallowed him again, deeper this time, her nose pressing into the coarse hair at his base, her throat convulsing around him, and she stayed there. One second. Two. Three.
He felt her hum again, felt the vibration travel through his entire body, felt his climax cresting and receding like a wave that couldn’t quite break.
She was controlling him.
Every nerve, every muscle, every pulse of blood through his veins... she was the one holding the reins, and she knew it.
When she finally let him breathe, Silas was a wreck. His chest heaved. His thighs trembled. His cock was a glistening, tortured monument to her patience.
Anna licked her lips, gathering the slickness, and smiled up at him with a predator’s satisfaction.
"I’m not done with you yet."