Chapter 113: That is how you say welcome home. *
Silas’s chest rose and fell in ragged waves, his skin slick with a sheen of sweat despite the cool bathroom air. His cock stood achingly hard, glistening with her saliva, twitching with the pulse of denied release. He looked wrecked. She intended to keep him that way.
Anna’s hands slid up his thighs, over his hips, and across his stomach, not gripping, or touching where he needed her most, just tracing slow patterns through the water droplets beaded on his skin. Her nails left faint white trails that bloomed pink in their wake.
"Hmm." The sound was contemplative, almost scholarly. "You’re very sensitive right now, aren’t you?"
He couldn’t speak. He could only nod, with his throat tight, and his hands white-knuckled on the edge of the tub.
"Good."
She lowered her head again, but this time she didn’t take him immediately. Her tongue traced a single, deliberate line from the base of his shaft to the tip, slow and wet, her breath hot against his oversensitive skin. He jerked, a broken sound escaping his lips, and her hands clamped down on his hips, pinning him to the porcelain.
"No moving."
"S-sorry-"
How the strong had fallen. Women really had a strong power over men, you know. If anyone were to see the guy who had entered a rift all alone and defeated a thirty-foot-tall golden chicken just some minutes ago, being dominated in a bathtub...
Well, no one would see. They weren’t exhibitionists or porn actors. No one was going to see the naked and fucking each other outside the apartment. But that was the least of Silas’s worries at the moment.
Anna rewarded his apology with her mouth, not the full depth this time, but just her lips wrapped around the head, her tongue circling the sensitive rim, and lapping at the bead of precum that had gathered there. Her eyes stayed on his, golden, glowing, and predatory, watching every micro-expression flicker across his face.
She pulled off, took a breath, and sank down again.
She went deeper this time. Her throat opened for him, a hot, slick channel that seemed to go on forever, and when her nose met his pelvis, she held. Her throat convulsed around him, milking him without triggering release, a muscle memory she had perfected through practice he didn’t want to think about.
When she surfaced, she was gasping, drool stringing from her lips to his cock, her chin slick and glistening.
"You feel that?" Her voice was rougher now, raw from the abuse she was putting her throat through. "You feel how deep I can take you?"
"Yes."
"Say it."
"You-" He swallowed. "You take all of me. Every inch."
"Every. Inch." She emphasized each word with a tap of her finger against the head of his cock, and he hissed through his teeth. "And you don’t get to come until I decide you do."
She dove again.
This time there was no pause, no teasing lead-up. She took him to the root in one smooth motion, her throat bulging with the intrusion, her eyes watering as she held him there. Her hands came up to grip his ass, pulling him deeper, forcing herself to take more than should fit.
And then she hummed.
The vibration traveled through her throat, through his length, through his entire body. His vision went white at the edges. His hips bucked involuntarily, and she let him, let him thrust up into her throat once, twice, before she pulled back and swallowed him again, setting a brutal rhythm.
Up and down, she dove, her throat rippling around him, drool cascading down his balls, dripping onto the bathmat in a steadily growing puddle. The sounds were obscene, wet, and guttural, the desperate gagging she refused to let stop her, the way she moaned around his cock as if she was the one being pleasured.
He was close again.
She felt it. The way his thighs tightened, the way his breathing changed, the way his cock swelled and pulsed against her tongue.
She stopped, pulled off completely, and let him hang there, trembling, on the edge of an abyss she wouldn’t let him fall into. Now, I even feel bad for Silas. This is totally... deserved.
"N-no-" The word came out as a plea, broken and desperate.
"Yes." She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing saliva across her cheek. "I decide, remember?"
"Anna, please, I need-"
"I know what you need." She took him again, just the head, just enough to make him gasp. "And you’ll get it. When I’m ready."
She held him there, on that razor’s edge, her tongue lapping at his frenulum, her lips suctioning just the sensitive tip, denying him the full depth he craved.
She was now sucking it like lollipop, as if she had all the time to suck it and not actually taste it.
His hands had moved from the tub to her hair, gripping her dark locks, but he didn’t pull or push. He just held on, his whole body a taut wire strung between pleasure and torment.
"Please," he whispered again.
Anna’s golden eyes softened, just a fraction, just enough.
She took him to the back of her throat, held him there as her muscles worked him, and then she hummed again, long and low and deep, and this time she didn’t stop.
His release tore through him like a wave breaking against a seawall. He came with a sound that was half-groan, half-sob, his hips thrusting helplessly as she swallowed around him, drinking down everything he gave her, her throat convulsing with the effort of taking it all.
She stayed until he was empty and his body went limp against the porcelain... until his hand fell from her hair, boneless and spent.
Only then did she pull off, licking her lips, swallowing the last trace of him.
She rose to her feet, water droplets clinging to her skin, her eyes still glowing that deep, satisfied gold.
"That," she said, her voice wrecked and tender, "is how you say welcome home."