She stills. “Yes,” she says.
“Do you have cramps?”
“No.” Her voice is quiet yet vehement with embarrassment.
I stop kissing her and look down into her eyes. Why is she embarrassed? It’s her body. “Did you take your pill?”
“Yes,” she answers.
Good. “Let’s go have a bath.”
In the over-the-top bathroom I release Ana’s hand. The atmosphere is hot and humid, steam gently rising above the foam. In this heat I’m overdressed, my linen shirt and jeans sticking to my skin.
Ana watches me, her skin dewy from the humidity.
“Do you have a hair tie?” I ask. Her hair will start clinging to her face. She pulls out a hair elastic from her jeans pocket.
“Put your hair up,” I tell her, and watch as she follows my command with quick, efficient grace.
Good girl. No more arguing.
A few strands escape from her ponytail, but she looks lovely. I turn off the faucet and, taking her hand, guide her into the other part of the bathroom, where a large gilded mirror hangs over two sinks set in marble. My eyes on hers in the mirror, I stand behind her and ask her to take off her sandals. Hastily she removes them and lets them drop to the floor.
“Lift up your arms,” I whisper. Grasping the hem of her pretty top, I peel it off and over her head, freeing her breasts. Reaching around, I undo the top button and the zipper of her jeans.
“I’m going to have you in the bathroom, Anastasia.” Her eyes stray to my mouth and she licks her lips. Under the soft light her pupils gleam with excitement. Bending down, I drop tender kisses on her neck, hook my thumbs into the waistband of her jeans, and slowly peel them down over her fine ass, catching her panties in my hands on the way down. Kneeling behind her, I ease them down her legs, to her feet. “Step out of your jeans,” I order. Grabbing the edge of the sink, she obliges; now she’s naked and I’m face-to-face with her ass. I pop her jeans, panties, and top onto a white stool beneath the sink and contemplate all the things I could do to that ass. I notice a blue string between her legs; her tampon is still in place, so I settle for kissing and nipping her behind gently before standing up. Our eyes connect in the mirror once more and I splay my hand out over her smooth, flat belly.
“Look at you. You are so beautiful. See how you feel.” Her breathing quickens as I take both her hands in mine and spread her fingers on her belly beneath my outstretched hands.
“Feel how soft your skin is,” I whisper. Gently I guide her hands across her torso in a wide sweeping circle, then travel them up to her breasts.
“Feel how full your breasts are.” I hold her hands beneath her breasts so she’s cupping them. Gently I tease her nipples with my thumbs. She moans and bows her back, pressing her breasts into our conjoined hands. Trapping her nipples between her thumbs and mine, I tug gently again and again, and take pleasure watching them harden and lengthen in response.
Like a certain part of my anatomy.
She closes her eyes and wriggles against me, brushing her behind over my erection. She moans, her head against my shoulder.
“That’s right, baby,” I murmur against her neck, enjoying her body coming alive beneath her touch. I guide her hands down her front to her hips, then in toward her pubic hair. I push my leg between hers and with my foot widen her stance as I guide her hands over her vulva, one hand at a time, over and over, pressing her fingers over her clitoris again and again.
She groans and I watch her writhe against me in the mirror.
Lord, she’s a goddess.
“Look at you glow, Anastasia.” I kiss and nip her neck and her shoulder, then I let go, leaving her hanging, and she opens her eyes as I step back.
“Carry on,” I tell her, wondering what she’ll do.
She falters for a moment, then rubs herself with one hand, but not nearly as enthusiastically.
Oh, this will never do.
Quickly I strip off my sticky shirt, jeans, and underwear, freeing my erection.
“You’d rather I do this?” I ask, her eyes blazing at mine in the mirror.
“Oh yes, please,” she says, a desperate, needy edge to her voice. I wrap my arms around her, my front against her back, my cock resting in the cleft of her fine, fine ass. I take her hands in mine once more, guiding them over her clitoris, one at a time, again and again, pressing, stroking, and arousing her. She whimpers as I suck and nip at her nape. Her legs begin to tremble. Abruptly I spin her around so she’s facing me. I grasp her wrists in one of my hands, holding them behind her back, while I tug on her ponytail with the other, bringing her lips up to mine. I kiss her, consuming her mouth, reveling in the taste of her: orange juice and sweet, sweet Ana. Her breathing is harsh, like mine.
“When did you start your period, Anastasia?”
I want to fuck you without a condom.
“Yesterday,” she breathes.
“Good.” I step back and spin her around. “Hold on to the sink,” I command. Grasping her hips, I lift her and pull her backward so she’s bent over. My hand glides down her ass to the blue string, and I tug out the tampon, which I toss in the toilet. She gasps, shocked, I think, but I grab my cock and slide into her quickly.
My breath whistles between my teeth.
Fuck. She feels good. So good. Skin against skin.
I edge back, then sink into her once more, slowly, feeling every precious, slick inch of her. She groans and pushes against me.
Oh yes, Ana.
She tightens her grip on the marble as I pick up speed, and I grasp her hips, building…building, then hammering into her. Claiming her. Possessing her.
Don’t be jealous, Ana. I want only you.
You.
You.
My fingers find her clitoris and I tease her, caress her, and stimulate her so that her legs begin to tremble once more. “That’s right, baby,” I murmur, my voice hoarse as I pound into her with a punishing I-own-you rhythm.
Don’t argue with me. Don’t fight with me.
Her legs stiffen as I grind into her and her body starts to quiver. Suddenly she cries out as her orgasm seizes her, taking me with her.
“Oh, Ana,” I breathe as I let go, the world blurring, and I come inside her.
Fuck.
“Oh, baby, will I ever get enough of you?” I whisper as I sink onto her.
Slowly I descend to the floor, bringing her with me and wrapping my arms around her. She sits, her head against my shoulder, still panting.
Sweet Lord.
Was it ever like this?
I kiss her hair and she calms, her eyes closed, her breathing slowly returning to normal as I hold her. We’re both sweaty and hot in a humid bathroom, but I don’t want to be anywhere else.
She shifts. “I’m bleeding,” she says.
“Doesn’t bother me.” I don’t want to let her go.
“I noticed.” Her tone is dry.
“Does it bother you?” It shouldn’t. It’s natural. I’ve known only one woman who was squeamish about period sex, but I wouldn’t take any of that crap from her.
“No, not at all.” Ana peers up at me with clear blue eyes.
“Good. Let’s have a bath.” I free her and her brows knit for a moment while she stares at my chest. Her rosy face loses some of its color, and clouded eyes meet mine.
“What is it?” I ask, alarmed by her expression.