“Oh, I don’t know, Mr. Black. Your big muscles have me all tongue-tied. Here, let me just rub my big fake tits all over you and see if that helps,” she said, mimicking Svetlana’s voice while thrusting her chest out and shaking her tits at me.
“You’re jealous, I got that, but what was with fleeing to the bathroom and making me promise not to look at you? What are you hiding from me?” I asked. Her jealousy was flattering, but I knew she was using it as a distraction and I did not care for it one bit.
When she didn’t answer me, I had to remind myself to keep my temper in check. “You are hiding something from me.” It had to be something on her back. My control slipped and my anger roared to life when it occurred to me that Octavius may have hurt her and she was hiding scars from me. I balled my fists and took determined steps toward her.
Her face paled and she started scooting backward on the bed. She pressed her back against the headboard so hard I heard the bed creak. Enough of this crap. “Show me!” I demanded.
She shook her head and pressed herself even harder against the headboard.
“Show me!” I roared and got the exact same response. I grabbed her ankles, yanked her to me, and flipped her over on her stomach before she could even make a sound. Grabbing the hem of her t-shirt, I ripped it up her back, causing a squeak to escape her. When I saw what she was hiding from me, it was like a punch to the gut. The air left my lungs. Emotions clogged my throat. I couldn’t do anything but stare.
I placed my hand on her back and lightly traced the outline of the phoenix tattoo covering her entire back. The same phoenix she gave me for Christmas all those years ago. The same one that was hanging on the wall in my bedroom. It was an incredible piece of art.
I continued to softly trace the lines inked into her skin and quietly asked, “Why were you hiding this from me? It’s beautiful, Annabelle.”
She sniffled. “I was embarrassed. I didn’t want you to think I was obsessed with you like some crazy stalker.”
“Baby,” I breathed as I leaned forward and began peppering her back with soft kisses. “I want you to be obsessed with me, just like I am with you.”
I climbed onto the bed and kissed my way up her back, pushing her shirt up as I went. “Take this off for me.” Surprisingly, she complied. I sat back on my heels, her legs extended between mine, and took in the unencumbered view of her tribute to me.
“I have one for you, too,” I told her. Hers was beautiful, mine was not. Even though it was the result of a drunken dare from some of the guys on base, it was still a heartfelt gesture. As I got older, I could see how she might not find it as flattering as I originally intended it to be.
“Let me see it,” she said, flipping over onto her back, showing me her succulent bare tits for the first time in almost two decades. They were bigger than before, but they were just as firm and perky as they were when she was 18 years old. Her hard nipples seemed to be pointing directly at my mouth.
I placed both hands on her waist and started slowly sliding them up her body. “Annabelle,” I rasped, my eyes fixated on her chest. She looked down and gasped when she realized what she’d done. She moved to cover herself, but I caught her arms and shook my head. “No, baby, don’t hide from me. Let me look at the sweet tits I’ve missed so much.”
“Phoenix,” she whined.
“I’m done holding back, Annabelle. Yeah, we got a lot of shit to work through, but I’ve craved you for 20 years. Twenty fucking years. Nothing will ever make me not want you. You tell me you don’t want me, I’ll get up and walk away, but if you say you do want me, know this, I’m fucking you until the sun comes up. What’s it going to be, doll face?”
She smirked. “I want to see the tattoo first.”
She had me so worked up I didn’t even hesitate. I pushed my shorts down far enough for my hard cock to spring free and thrust my hips toward her face. “There it is,” I growled.
Her mouth dropped open while she stared at her name tattooed down the side of my cock, my very hard, throbbing cock. She reached her hand out like she was going to touch it, the tattoo that is, and then she seemed to realize what else she would be touching and pulled her hand back. “Wh-why did you do that?” she asked.
“Because you own it. It seemed appropriate to put your name on it,” I answered immediately.
Her face crumpled and tears started sliding down the side of her face. That wasn’t the reaction I wanted her to have while my erection was straining toward her lips like a heat-seeking missile. She pushed herself up and grabbed me by my shoulders, pulling me down on top of her. “I’ve missed you so fucking much,” she groaned right before she crushed her lips to mine.
There was no way I could be gentle. I had a lot of pent up sexual tension, amongst other things, that needed an outlet. I pulled back from her, lifted her by her waist, and tossed her farther up the bed. She let out a squeal when she bounced on the mattress. I roughly slipped my fingers under the waistband of her shorts and panties and ripped them from her body.
Annabelle’s naked body at 37 was the stuff fantasies were made of. Her tits were full and perfectly round, topped with rose-colored nipples. Despite having carried twins and having a third child, her stomach was flat and held very little evidence of her pregnancies, only a few stretch marks and a C-section scar. Her hips flared to give her a tantalizing hourglass shape leading my eyes right to her beautiful, bare pussy. I pushed her legs apart and growled, “Look how wet you are for me.”
“Phoenix, please,” she whined.
I slid my hand up her thigh and ran my finger over her slit from top to bottom. Gathering her juices on my finger, I brought it to my lips and sucked. “Mmmm,” I groaned. I reached for her core again, this time slipping one finger inside her. She moaned and wriggled, but I froze. She was tight, like way too tight for a woman her age with three children.
She leaned up on her elbows, panting, “Phoenix? Is something wrong?”
I had no idea what to say. I didn’t want to ask her when she was last fucked. I didn’t want to know anything about her sexual experiences that weren’t with me, but if I didn’t say something, I was going to hurt her and I did not want to do that. I remembered the pain on her face and the tears in her eyes when I took her virginity. It nearly killed me that night and I had no intention of experiencing it again. Choosing my words carefully, I said, “Baby, I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”
She blushed from head to toe and turned her face away from me. I crooked my finger that was still inside of her, making her gasp. “If I’ve got my finger in your pussy, you can damn well look at me.”
She turned her head so her eyes met mine. “I’ll be okay, Phoenix.”
“I’m not trying to be an asshole here, but how is this even possible? You’re as tight as you were when I took you for the first time,” I blurted before my brain could phrase it in a less offensive way.
