Page 82 of Her Darkest Possession

With deliberate slowness, I unbuckle his belt. Without ever breaking eye contact, I lower the zipper of his pants.

"Do you know what would make me happy right now?"

His breathing growing heavier with each passing second. His hands grip the arms of the chair tightly, knuckles turning white as I reach for his belt.

I reach inside and pull out his hard and smooth shaft, feeling the throbbing heat of it between my fingers.

"What will make me happy is to feel this cock in my mouth." My voice is barely above a whisper as I stroke him slowly.

His jaw clenches and his thighs tense around me.

"Feel it punch the back of my throat." I circle my thumb over his sensitive tip, and wipe away a drop of slippery precum leaking from the slit.

I wet my lips, feeling a rush of boldness. "And suck you until you're dry."

Anatoly's breath comes out in a harsh exhale, his hands moving from the chair to tangle in my blue hair. He doesn't push me forward though—he's giving me control, letting me take what I want at my own pace.

"If that's what would make my wife happy," he says, his voice rough and heavy. "Then who am I to deny her?"

I wrap my lips around Anatoly's cock and take him all the way down my throat.

He groans above me, a deep rumbling sound that vibrates through his body as my tongue lashes against his sensitive tip.

I hollow my cheeks and suck hard on my way up, pulling a strangled moan from him that sends a surge of power down my spine and an aching wet heat between my legs. My hand wraps around what doesn't fit in my mouth, and I start stroking in rhythm with my lips.

"Fuck, Indigo..." he growls.

I cup his balls with my free hand, rolling and massaging them gently while I bob my head faster, taking him deeper with each downward motion. The rhythm is reckless, desperate. My blue hair falls forward, and he reaches to brush it back, trying to slow my movements by gripping the strands.

I slap his hand away without missing a beat. This is my show. My pace.

"Slow down," he pants. "You're going too fast."

I speed up in response, my mouth sliding up and down his length with relentless determination. My jaw aches, but I don't care. The wet, obscene sounds of my mouth devouring him fill the dining room.

"Fuck," he groans, his thighs tensing beneath my hands. "You're going to make me explode. Make me lose control."

I pull back, releasing him with a pop. His cock glistens with my saliva, red and throbbing. I run my tongue along the prominent vein on the underside, tracing it from base to tip while maintaining eye contact.

"That's exactly what I want," I tell him, my voice raspy. "I want you to lose control. For me."

Before he can respond, I take him back into my mouth, deeper this time. Wet, obscene sounds echo in the dining room as I work him with renewed vigor. Our moans mix together. I take him to the back of my throat and back out again.

His cock starts to swell in my mouth, growing impossibly harder than before.

And then, with a single guttural roar, he erupts.

I moan as the first hot pulse of salty semen hits the back of my throat. I swallow greedily and eagerly, refusing to let a single drop escape. His hips buckle and roll under my chin, and incoherent swears fall from his lips while I milk every last drop from him.

When I finish, I look up at him as I release him from my mouth.

And before he can react, I spit on his cock.

I don't know why I did that. Maybe it's because of the fact that there's part of me that's gone mad with the possibility of losing hm. Maybe it's from our earlier confession of love for each other.

Or maybe, I just want to claim him in a way that I haven't claimed him yet.

But whatever my reasons, it provokes the exact reaction I want from him.