CHAPTER 34

We didn't talk about his massacre, and we didn't talk about my venture into Defence Medical. I led Anthony through my room and into the attached bathroom.

I started the shower and adjusted the temperature.

He trembled a bit when I started unbuttoning his suit and loosening his tie, then his hands flew up to the side of my face and he was kissing me, his lips bruising, his tongue lashing against mine.

The scent of blood rose up between us. I shoved his jacket off his shoulders as he bit my lip hard enough to draw a bit of blood.

Ouch. I pulled back from the kiss, studying his face.

There was no trace of the old Anthony now. The man I knew with a sharp mind, who appeared falsely easygoing but was always worrying and planning under the surface. This Anthony was a force of nature. Wild, untamed and determined.

His hand circled around my neck and he pulled me back to him, licking my lip where a bead of blood had formed. He was so busy devouring my mouth that I struggled to get the buttons on his shirt undone. I managed three and then he crushed me to him, trapping my hands. He broke the kiss trailing his lips along my cheek and down to my jaw where he suckled, just below my ear. His right hand left my back to come around and cup my breast through my shirt.

I leaned into him, the heat of his fingers purling beneath my nipples, then I tried to wiggle my own fingers. Fucking buttons.

I pushed away from him, frustrated. Wetness already gathered between my legs and I was beginning to feel impatient.

"Take off your clothes," I growled.

Anthony chuckled, finishing the buttons in record time and shucking the blood-stained shirt. His pants quickly followed. And finally I was looking at the perfection that was Anthony, his body, built like a greek god in one of those statues. Every muscle individually defined. His skin glowing with the damp mist that was filling the bathroom air from the shower. He reached up, and I watched as muscles in his chest and side rippled as he pulled the tie from his hair. It came loose and fell along his jaw, slightly curled from the dampness.

Anthony was one hot motherfucker.

I pulled my shirt over my head and dropped it on the floor. My bra followed. I was a little more careful with my pants. I'd shoved the electronic field generator in my pocket before knocking on the office door, and I wasn't sure how sensitive the thing would be to impact.

I stepped into the shower and let the steaming water pour over me, down my neck and around my breasts, I turned to invite Anthony in, but he was already behind me, his hard chest to my back. His harder cock landing against my buttocks. He crowded me, until I had to put my hands on the wall for balance.

"Mmmm," he hummed, thrusting his hips and rubbing the length of himself against me. Sliding with the help of the hot water that lubricated his path. Both hands reached around me and cupped my breasts, fingers and thumbs going for my nipples, tugging and pulling and then massaging my breasts as a whole. He alternated back and forth, still rubbing himself against my ass, until I was arching into him in the front and pushing back against him at the same time.

"Do you know how many times I whacked off in the shower imagining just this?" he whispered in my ear.

I made a helpless sound. I was not coherent enough to answer. The ache between my legs had grown into a pit of need, a desperate desire to be filled.

His hands left my breasts, which was disappointing, but they travelled along my waist and lower, where his left hand gripped my hip, stilling my desperate attempts to produce that friction I needed against him. He reached around my front with his right hand, his thumb caressing my belly as he lowered his fingers into my curls. He played there for a little bit, not going any farther and not touching me where I needed him.

"*Anthony*," I growled.

He chuckled again, the vibration of it running through me.

He circled a little more and then flicked a finger over the nub that was the center of my focus. A shot of pleasure ran through me and I bucked toward him, wanting more. Another flick and the intensity of the pleasure grew. He moved deeper, sliding a digit along my folds, finding a slick wetness that had him groaning against my neck. A finger dipped inside and I groaned, throwing my head back. Yes, just like that. I needed more.

And then he was shifting, the hand holding my hip moving to position himself between my legs. I arched my back, giving him access and he found my nub again, rubbing rhythmically.

In one powerful thrust he plunged inside, filling me, stretching and going deeper and deeper until it was nearly painful. I wiggled against him, trying to take more.

He started slowly, pulling out until it was just the tip at my opening and then pushing in to the base of his shaft in a smooth movement, in and out, tortuously slow. I tried to speed up the pace, to slam back against him as he filled me, but his left hand had returned to my hip and prevented me from taking control. In and out again. Sweat broke out on my skin, I bit my lip, my breath coming in heavy pants.

The pressure built with every thrust and then subsided as he took his leisurely time pulling outward. On the fourth stroke I screamed my frustration, trying to twist out of his grip so that I could take care of the matter myself.

His control broke then. He slammed into me and began pumping, his pace furious and hard. His fingers still worked in the front their rhythm getting faster, matching that of our slapping bodies. I could feel the weight of his testicles bouncing against my sensitive folds with every stroke and it set me off the edge. The pressure mounting higher and higher until with a cry I couldn't control, it broke, waves of it pulsing through my spreading over my body and down my spine.

A feral grunt behind me told me he'd found his pleasure, his pumping frantic now, desperately trying to get deeper and deeper as my body clutched his, milking out seed.

When he finally stopped, holding still as the last twitches of his cock were wrung out, my legs and arms were trembling, my feet aching from pushing up and against him.

He pulled away, sliding out and immediately turned me around, gathering me to him. He rested he chin on my head and for a long time we just stood there like that, water pouring down on us.

He stroked my back.

"Why did you do it?" I asked at last.

He didn't answer for a long time.

"Because now they know the price of speaking against you."