Page 69 of Anyone But the Superstar

Anne follows my line of sight to the floor. ‘Is what yo—’ She claps a hand over my eyes. ‘Oh shit.’

I wince behind her palm. ‘I take that as a yes.’

‘It’s not what it looks like.’

Pulling her hand away, I trap it at her side, then do the same with her other by locking an arm around her mid-section. I flex, both arms – one across her chest, the other over her abdomen – holding her trapped against me and take a good long look at the proof that Anne has not been as unaffected by me as she made out. ‘Itlookslike I need to tell my stylist to invest in blue ruffle ensembles.’

Her skin, flushed from desire, goes red. ‘I?—’

I thrust. She moans.

Lifting my ass off my heels, I make short, strong movements as my arms hold her in place. With her legs spread out over my thighs, and her arms trapped beside her body, all she can do istake it. ‘It looks like you’ve been thinking some pretty kinky things.’

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

Each thrust brings another moan, vindication for my new-found need to punish in the bedroom. Never have I wanted such control. Such dominion. But then again, never have I felt so out of control with a woman. From the very first moment we met, she’s had me breaking all my rules. Left me feeling like a cat on a leash.

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

It’s only fair she gives me this.

‘Oh my God.’ Her hands, still trapped at her sides, reach for me, claw at my sides. ‘I’m gonna come, I’m gonna?—’

I watch in the mirror as her mouth opens, her body jerks, helpless under my hold. No sound, just a breathtakingly beautiful silent scream of pleasure as I continue to move.

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

On a ragged inhale, she starts to cry. ‘Wait, Felix. I just—fuck.’

We have waited. I feel like we’ve waited forever.

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

‘Something’s—I… oh, oh God.’ Her head, the only thing free to move, twists and turns, her hair flying out in every direction. Bathing me in her scent.

Citrus. Sweet but tart. Just like her.

‘Apanhei-te.’ I don’t have her. Not really. And the knowledge makes me thrust harder, faster, as if punishing her for not giving me everything I want. Things I didn’t know I wanted until right now. ‘Deixar ir, gatinha,’ I whisper. ‘Let go.’

‘I’m coming…’ Her nails dig deep. ‘Oh God.’ She writhes again, her head now in the direction of the mirror. Our eyes meet. ‘Felix…’

Thrust.

This time, her orgasm isn’t silent, and she doesn’t feel it alone. Both of us, sweaty, loud and shaking, come together.

Her – eyes closed, a tear trailing down her cheek only to merge into the beads of sweat spreading across her body.

Me – chest heaving from the best workout of my life and eyes fixated on the open sketch book.

Moments tick by as both of us calm down, our breathing evening out. Only then do I find the strength to lift her off my dick and lay her gently on the bed.

I step into the bathroom as she basks in the afterglow, a small Mona Lisa smile on her lips.

When I return, her smile’s still in place but her eyes are fully closed. Thinking she’s sleeping, I move to retrieve her sketch book. But just as I bend beside the bed, Mike shoots out from underneath it and plops his bare ass on top of my face. The face Anne drew.

The feline’s expression is the definition of defiance. I recognize retribution when I see it.

‘Touché, Mike.’ I nod, acknowledging his move. ‘Touché.’