Page 38 of Wanted
He stood with the hot spray washing down his back, one arm leaning up against the wall to help him keep his balance. His cock was rock hard, standing so high it was almost against his belly. He didn’t touch it, letting instead the water sluicing down his chest and running over his tight abdomen, teasing him with the touch he wanted most but knew he couldn’t have.
His eyes were open, but that didn’t shut out the sight he wanted most, either. Anna would look beautiful on her knees in front of him, worshiping him with her hands and her mouth, her gorgeous blue eyes locked on his face so he would know there was no one else in her mind right now, no one she wanted more in that moment than him and what she was doing for him.
The tickle of the water was a piss poor substitute for her lips, but he could practically feel the way she’d touch him. Lick him. Caress him from balls to shaft, all the way up to the tip where the sensitivity was so heightened that it wouldn’t take more than a suckling kiss from her lips to make him shoot into her waiting mouth. Like a high school kid with absolutely no experience and no stamina to withstand the exquisite torture of her lovemaking.
How poetic was that?
Lovemaking.
Making love to her right now wasn’t anywhere near the top of his most wanted list. He wanted to fuck her. He wanted to grab her by the hair and pump into her mouth until she was gagging, tears pouring down her cheeks as she struggled to take the full length and girth of him.
He growled, the trickling tickles of water dripping from his face onto his cock so far beyond the sure and certain pump of her hand as she fisted his shaft and worked her beautiful mouth, swirling her tongue around and around his head, as to be completely unsatisfying. He broke down, grabbing his cock in his own hand. He squeezed, needing the pressure to ground him, but the tightness only undid him further. Was that how tight she would be when he finally wrenched her up off her knees and spun her around, shoving her up against these pure white shower tiles? Cheek to the wall, ass out. Making it easy for him to find the heat of her core as he stroked his cock along the seam of her pussy until he found his way in.
He liked hard. He ached to hear that sharp gasp of startled and intense pleasure that his first conquering thrust would wring from her as he shoved himself balls deep inside her.
This shower would sing first with her gasps and then her moaning cries as he took her, pounding until the wet slapping of his hips against her soft ass grew louder. Right now, the only wet slapping he heard was his own furious stroking.
She’d be even tighter, her moans all the more guttural as he took her ass. And he would. He was fond of it, and he had no intention of being gentle when he did it.
Get your own damned wine, Marcus.
She’d never issued a command at him before. Even though they’d mostly been joking around, he considered that great progress on her part… as well as an incredible flirtation. What she’d said had been akin to snapping his dom-y ass with a towel. It had been everything he could do not to come marching back to the table to grab her by the hair and kiss her fucking breathless. He wanted to hear her saying his name, her voice and thighs both quivering with need... God. He stopped, grabbing his cock painfully tight, forcing back the edge of orgasm. It would have been a relief, at this point, but if ever he had her beneath him, he had no interest in granting her a quick release. He wasn’t that kind.
Get your own damned wine.
A reluctant smile tugged the corners of his lips again as he recalled every breathless nuance of what she’d said, how she’d spoken, with that trembling quaver in her voice, how she’d looked, raw wanting in her eyes and on her face. She only thought she was raw before. Wait until he was done with her.
Relaxing his grip, he began to stroke again, taking his time now. Slow, long, pumping motions that hit all the places he liked most. He’d find all the places she liked too. Her small, perfect breasts would be the feast he dined on, sucking, licking, spanking, biting, until she was arching and sobbing. He’d mark them. He’d mark her hips and her ass, making sure his fingers left bruises from the force by which he held her, forcing her to keep on riding him long after the pleasure of each subsequent orgasm turned cutting. Pleasure only went so high before it began to court the other side, becoming almost painful in its intensity.
“Shit! Fuck!” He grabbed his cock, but too late. His orgasm hit like a rocket, lancing through every muscle and every nerve as he shot spurt after hot spurt uselessly against the wall. Not in her mouth. Not in her ass. Definitely not in her pussy while she helplessly came along with him, her clenching walls milking every last drop from him.
Shit.
He bent, resting his head against the tiles, the hot water washing down his back.
His good leg was still shaking from the intensity of his release when he finally reached back and shut the water off.
Pushing the shower curtain aside, he sat down on the side of the tub to dry himself off. He was still sitting there long minutes after he was done, staring at the useless stump of his leg and then at the crutches he’d used to come in here, rather than strap his prosthetic back on.
He talked a good game, didn’t he? Reaching down, he rubbed the pointed nub below his knee where the ache of the leg he no longer had still liked to remind him of what he’d lost. Yeah, he talked a good game when he was trying to get into her head, but when it came to levels of brokenness, there were worlds of difference between Anna and himself.
Physically, she was perfect, every one of her scars simply the roadmap some lucky man would be able to use as he kissed and caressed his way into her battered heart. Scars didn’t matter. They were just the proof sometimes required to remind one that they were stronger than whatever had tried to break them.
Physically, he was still only half a man. Unable even to walk across the room without either his crutches or his prosthetic. A dom in memory only, strong in memory only.
Like Megan, Anna probably wouldn’t agree. He wasn’t stupid. He knew how she looked at him. He knew the lines between guardian and real-life dom were starting to blur. He’d known they would right from the start, from the instant he first exerted his authority over her. Giving her what she needed in that moment, yes, but dooming them both to the heartbreaking consequences when it came time for him to set her free.
And he would. He knew his job. He knew exactly what the courts would need to deny the hospital’s claims that she was so far beyond unfit to take care of herself that releasing her would be akin to killing her. Anna was making great progress. The months she’d spent free of his physical presence while O’Dowell had been in prison had helped in that regard.
So, yes, when the time came, Marcus knew it didn’t matter how she looked at him or how hard his cock was, he absolutely was going to let her go. If she wanted to call him, she could, but he’d do right by her. He’d take her to Black Light, he’d even help her find someone there. Someone worthy of her need to submit and serve.
Because after all she’d been through, she needed more and deserved far better than a half-man who’d never again be close to what he used to be.
Except in memory.
Chapter 9
Pony/Anna
