Page 54 of Under His Control
“Fuck. Anatoly, right there,” she gasps, her voice breaking into high, breathless moans.
I focus in, merciless and steady, responding to every twitch and cry like she’s an instrument and I’m the one playing her. When I know she’s on the edge—so close she can’t hide it—I lift my head just long enough to say, “Come for me, little wife. Let me feel it. Let me taste it.”
Her back bows off the mattress, a sharp cry ripping from her throat as she comes undone. I hold her through it, mouth pressed against her pussy, drawing out every last shudder, every last desperate, beautiful sound.
She collapses, panting, boneless and glowing. I press a final kiss to her inner thigh before crawling up beside her.
“Still breathing?” I ask, brushing her hair away from her damp forehead.
She lets out a soft, dazed laugh. “Barely. You’re lethal.”
I grin. “Good.” Then I lower my mouth to hers. “Because I’m not finished.”
She laughs breathlessly, pulling me up to meet her lips.
I capture her mouth hungrily, tasting her heat and need. My hands find the zipper at her back, tugging it down until her dress slips away completely.
She reaches for my boxer briefs, pushing them down. Soon, nothing remains between us, and the warmth of her skin pressed against mine sends electricity through my veins.
I lay her back against the pillows, settling between her thighs, the heat radiating from her body nearly driving me mad. She reaches down to guide me to her entrance, eyes locked on mine, desire shining clear.
“Slow,” she whispers softly. “I want to feel every second.”
I slide inside her inch by careful inch, watching her expression shift from anticipation to pleasure. Her hands grip my ass, nails biting into my skin.
“Perfect,” she breathes out, eyes fluttering closed.
I move slowly at first, savoring each thrust, feeling her body respond beneath mine. Her hips rise to meet me, matching my rhythm seamlessly. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper, closer. Our mouths find each other again, hungry kisses punctuating every slow movement.
When her breathing becomes uneven again, I shift my angle, hitting the sensitive spot deep inside her. She gasps sharply, arching into me, nails digging deeper into my skin.
“There, yes, right there—” she pants urgently, body tightening around me.
I keep that angle, driving into her again and again, relentless. She cries out, pleasure peaking for the second time. I slow my movements, letting her recover, brushing my lips over hers.
I pull her hips to meet mine as I sit back, drawing her onto my lap. She gasps at the deeper angle, eyes widening as she settles fully against me.
She moves over me with slow, deliberate grace, bracing her hands against my chest. Her thighs straddle my hips with confidence, every soft curve pressing into me, every roll and dip of her body igniting something primal.
I slide my hands down the generous flare of her hips, reveling in the way she fills my palms—lush, warm, utterly perfect. She’s gorgeous—the kind of woman sculptors would beg to immortalize in marble—but no stone could ever do her justice.
Her breath catches as she lowers herself further, taking me inch by inch, adjusting to the position. My hands twitch with restraint—I want to grip her, guide her, but I let her lead.
Her hair falls around us like a dark silk curtain, shielding us from the world. Her eyes, wide and luminous, stay locked on mine. In them, I see trust, fire, vulnerability—and desire that sears through both of us like lightning.
“You’re mine, Taylor. Never forget that.”
She leans in, hips rolling in a slow, maddening grind that punches a groan from my chest.
“Yours,” she whispers, voice trembling but fierce, kissing me with hunger. “Only yours.”
Her pace quickens, confidence blooming. Every bounce, every drag of her hips sends electric shocks straight through my spine. My hands slide to her waist, gripping hard. The sight of her—breasts bouncing, cheeks flushed, thighs strong and splayed—unravels me.
She’s glorious. Powerful. And she’s giving it all to me.
“Anatoly…” she gasps, head tilting forward, sweat glistening in the hollow of her throat. “So close…”
“Come for me,” I command, voice rough and guttural, driving my hips up to meet her thrust for thrust. “Now, Taylor. Let me feel you.”
