Her shoulders relax as she drops her head back against the wall. “Everything feels right. Everything finally feels right. I want to start this, and I don’t want to finish until the sun comes up.”
I bring a hand up to stroke her cheek, tilting my head as I study the absolute beauty of her face. “This will never be finished.”
She breathes out a sigh and as her lips part, I dive in. I kiss her and forget the world. Anya moans, her fingers tickling my skin as she slips them beneath the hem of my T-shirt. She lifts and tugs and our kiss breaks only for the time it takes to rip my shirt over my head and toss it to the floor.
I slam my hands to the wall on either side of her, bending to taste her again. This kiss is frantic, desperate, eager…it’s fucking everything because I’ve been starving for this freedom with my blue-eyed girl since we met. I snake my hands around behind her, grip her ass tight, and lift her up along the door. She squeezes her legs around me and I groan, feeling her shift along my cock. I move one hand up to dig into her hair at the back of her head, tugging back on the strands ever so slightly to angle her face upward, just so I can bend over her and kiss her more deeply.
She is fucking everything.
I hold her close as I turn us and walk her to the dresser, setting her down on top of it, putting her ass level with my hips. She peels off her shirt, tossing it away as her eyes take me in, raking down my body and making me feel like the most desired man in the world. She reaches behind her and unhooks her black bra and my hips jut forward, pounding my cock against the edge of the dresser.
“Fuck,” I groan.
Anya lets her bra fall from her shoulders and everything slows to the speed of the garment slipping so slowly down her arms. “Ezra…”
The way she breathes my name—as if I were the very air that filled her lungs—makes me fucking hard.
She reaches for me, her hands locking together around the back of my neck, and she pulls my head down to her, our foreheads touching. She pants and breathes as her knees squeeze my hips to hold me in place.
“I love you and I’ll never stop,” she says.
Christ.
That makes my whole goddamn body tingle for her.
“I need you now, baby.” I’m panting, gasping for her like she’s oxygen.
Her mouth drops open and her fingers find my buckle, working frantically to free me from my jeans. “I need you, too. Now.”
I push her trembling hands away and take over, shoving my pants and boxer briefs down as soon as I get my jeans open. My dick is already hard and straining, springing free from my clothes and ready to be inside her.
I grab her leggings at her hips and tug, but the damn things are so tight that I pull her body down with them. Her covered pussy hits my stomach and she gasps. Holding her knees tight against my sides, she lifts her ass just enough for me to peel them off her and I toss them to the floor.
Then I stop.
I catch the reflection of her backside in the vanity mirror on the back of the dresser and I just have to pause to appreciate her perfectly imperfect figure. My eyes cast over her body, taking in the fullness of her curves—the stretch marks on her stomach where she carried our baby, the hint of extra weight she still carries there that reminds me she’s a fucking warrior.
I revel at the contrast of her skin, smooth and supple in most places, but rough and weathered where she’s been battered and abused and marked in her captivity. My thumb grazes over the scars at the top of her thigh, scars Nikolai put there with his switchblade.
She’ll never be marked by them again.
This is the first time it’s really hit me that it’s true and relief washes over me. The literal weight of the world tumbles from my shoulders.
I finally feel free.
And it’s because I’m with her.
I grab her face and kiss her hard, leaning her back against the mirror as her ass slips down to me at the edge of the dresser. I fist my cock, angle it against her pussy, and press inside her. I push in deep, probably too hard and too fast, but she’s so goddamn warm and wet that it just slips right in.
“Oh,” she gasps as her heels dig into my ass, encouraging me to stay right there. “Oh, God.”
She looks at me, her blue eyes sparkling, full of passion and life and love, more than I’ve ever seen before.
I pull out and shove back in and we both moan. Her eyes never leave mine; she never looks away, not for a second. I thrust again, starting to move in and out of her with long, hard thrusts. I fuck her recklessly while she makes love to me with her eyes.
When I start to feel her pussy clench around my cock, when she’s shaking, tensing, trembling in my hold, gasping out those sweet little “oh” sounds that she makes for me, I put my thumb over her clit and press.
“Ezra!” Anya’s arms whip around me and she squeezes me in her embrace, lifting her hips and changing our angle. “Yes…yes. Please, Ezra…I need you.”
I need you.
“I’m yours, baby,” I whisper against the shell of her ear, her hair tickling my face as I nip my teeth down the side of her neck.
When I lick behind her ear, it detonates her.
“Ezra!” She goes rigid and then she sinks, gasping through her orgasm, her arms losing their grip around me.
I grab onto her, hold her steady as I rut inside her, hard and fast. The edge of the dresser slams against the wall with a thud with each thrust.
Thud, thud, thud.
Her eyes drift shut while I fuck her and she smiles, looking sleepy, sated, happy. “Mine,” she whispers and that’s it for me.
I come inside her, hard and long, and I’ve never felt such a perfect release.
It feels like the first time.
It feels like the last time.
It feels like the only time.
And it’s fucking everything.
It could be a dream, but I’m thankful it’s not.
Anya and I are together in bed, in our cozy townhome in Philadelphia.
We lay on our sides, facing one another, only Anya has just pulled me from the only peaceful slumber I’ve had in months. I’m okay with it because reality is better than the dream of her.
We fell asleep naked, tangled in each other after an extended fuck session. It’s still dark in the room and a quick glance at the bright red numbers on the digital clock behind her on the nightstand tells me its three o’clock in the morning.
I can’t see her clearly in the dark, but I can see her well enough to make out the curved line of her smile. Her fingers softly trail up and down along my arm. Her coldness is gone. The icy exterior she used to shield herself as a slave has melted away, leaving her bare and exposed to me in her rawest, truest form.