Page 60 of Anton

I took my time, running my hands over the planes of his chest, the ridges of muscle taut under my touch. My fingers trailed lower, brushing the waistband of his jeans. He watched me, his gaze heavy, as I hooked my thumbs under the denim and slid it past his hips, kneeling briefly to push them further down his legs.

Anton stepped out of his jeans and boots, the corner of his mouth twitching as I stayed crouched before him, letting myhands trail up the length of his thighs. The intimacy of the moment sent a shiver through me.

The quiet, wet sounds of my mouth on him filled the room, mingling with his low, guttural groans. His hand tangled in my hair was firm but not forceful, a grounding touch that sent a heady rush through me.

I moved deliberately, my lips and tongue exploring every inch of him, and each breathless hiss, every muffled curse spurred me on. His hips flexed, a barely controlled response that made me tighten my grip on his thighs, holding him steady.

“Marcie,” he rasped, his voice rough and unsteady, like he was barely holding on. His chest heaved, and I could feel the coiled tension in his body, each subtle shiver and quiver of his muscles betraying his struggle for restraint.

When I shifted, taking him deeper, his head tipped back, a strangled groan breaking from his lips. His fingers tightened in my hair, guiding my movements with a mix of control and desperation. “You’re going to ruin me,” my sexy soldier murmured, his tone raw and uneven.

The taste of him was intoxicating, the salty heat lingering on my tongue as I worked him with purpose. Each groan, each low, shuddering exhale shot straight to my core, a heady combination of power and submission that left me aching with need.

I used one hand to pump the base of his length, matching the rhythm of my mouth, my other hand braced against his thigh for balance. Anton’s body tensed, every muscle coiled with restraint. He rocked into my mouth, a low moan slipping from his throat, the sound sending a thrill coursing through me.

But just as his hips began to jerk, a sign he was losing control, his hand stilled my movements. “Honey,” he rasped, his voice thick with emotion and barely checked desire. “Stop.” He gently eased me back, his breaths ragged.

Slowly, he reached for my hand, drawing me to my feet, his gaze locking with mine, the intensity in his eyes holding me captive.

“Not like this. Not yet,” he growled, his voice rough, each word laced with raw need. “I’ll fuck that pretty mouth of yours, Marcie. But right now… I need to bury myself inside you, properly.”

His lips crashed onto mine, claiming me in a kiss so deep, so consuming, it stole the very air from my lungs. Lowering me onto the floor, he loomed over me, his lips brushing against mine again, teasing, lingering just enough to leave me wanting more.

Anton’s lips trailed over my skin, deliberate and slow, as he kissed the curve of my neck. “You’re fucking beautiful, honey. I love how you feel under me,” he whispered against my ear, his voice rougher now, like he could barely hold himself back. A string of endearments followed, muttered low and nearly inaudible, as his lips continued their path down my throat.

I wanted to speak, to respond, but all I could do was feel—the way our bodies fit together, the heat of his skin against mine, the soft friction of his hard muscles moving over me. My fingers dug into his shoulders, urging him even closer. He was so sexy and I couldn’t get enough of him.

“Anton…” I breathed, my voice thick with need, desperate for him.

The sexy soldier murmured my name like a promise, a vow, his voice low and full of raw intent. His mouth moved down, kissing, licking, and nibbling his way to my collarbone, while his hands traced the soft curve of my waist, taking his time, savouring every inch of me.

My core clenched, a rush of need flooding me as I squirmed beneath him, desperate for more. I could feel the passionbuilding between us, the pressure mounting as he continued his slow exploration, driving me wild with anticipation.

More desperate now, I pressed up against him, feeling the hard length of his body against mine. He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through me, stirring something primal inside me. “Tell me you want me, Marcie,” he demanded, his voice thick with desire, his eyes darkening with hunger.

“Yes, sir… I want you, Anton,” I gasped, barely able to breathe as his fingers found my clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through me.

He let out a guttural growl at my words, his lips crashing back onto mine in a kiss that was deep, hungry, and possessive. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, feeling the hard ridge of his cock against my thigh, pulsing and desperate. Reaching down, I wrapped my hand around his length, smirking as it jerked in my grip, leaking pre cum over my fingers.

“Marcie, I won’t last if you keep touching me like that,” Anton groaned, his hand slipping between my legs to cup my pussy. “You’re already so wet for me,” he murmured, his fingers sliding lower. Each movement of his touch was deliberate, slow, and teasing, making me ache for more.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he whispered, his breath hot against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. His thumb circled over my clit, the sensation enough to make me writhe beneath him, waves of pleasure crashing through me.

“Please,” I begged, my back arching as I ground against his fingers, desperate for more, my body craving him fully.

He pulled back just enough to look down at me, his gaze dark with raw desire. “Are you sure you’re ready for me?” His voice was low, rough, with a slight hint of amusement, as if testing my limits.

I nodded urgently, my hands reaching for him, needing him closer. “I’m ready, Anton. Please.”

A groan slipped from his lips as he positioned himself at my entrance, his body pressing into mine. Slowly, agonisingly slow, he slid inside, inch by inch, giving me time to feel every part of him, every sensation as he stretched me. My breath caught, the fullness of him almost overwhelming.

Mr Sexy Soldier’s eyes locked with mine, his pace slow and controlled, savouring each movement. The outside world ceased to exist. It was just him, just us, as he moved against me, filling me completely with each deep, measured thrust.

His lips found my neck, pressing soft, urgent kisses against my skin, and I tilted my head back, surrendering to him. His mouth sent shivers through me, while my hands continued their path over him, evoking a raw response that filled me with joy. I loved that I could make him tremble like that. Knowing what I did to him made me feel powerful, in control in a way I’d never known before.

“Oh, god,” I gasped, pulling him closer, bringing his lips to mine in a kiss that was both urgent and tender. Our bodies found their rhythm—slow at first, but quickly picking up pace, building a steady flow that was both sensual and frustrating at the same time.

“More, Anton. I need more,” I cried.

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