She thinks. “He’s more of a Tony Tony Chopper than a Naruto.”
I freeze. “Are you kidding me right now? Did you just make a canonically correct anime comparison?” She acts like it’s nothing, and I step closer again, crowding her space. My voice drops making it sound dark and sexy, “Good behavior deserves to be rewarded.”
“Oh, does it?” Her brow lifts. I trail my hands lightly along her hips, testing the line, watching her reaction. “What are you doing?” she asks, though there’s no real protest in her voice.
“Encouraging positive growth,” I murmur. She huffs out a quiet laugh as I dip my head, brushing a slow kiss against her skin, letting the moment linger just enough to make her breath hitch. “So,” I say to her, voice low, “any other anime you’ve been secretly watching for the last twelve years?”
“Oh, yeah,” she says, voice turning thoughtful. “I really liked Fullmetal Alchemist.”
“Classic.” I grin. “Excellent choice. What did you like about it?”
There’s a pause. Then, very innocently, “I really liked how attached the little girl was to her dog.” I freeze. Slowly, I straighten and drop my hands.
“No,” I say flatly. “Absolutely not.” Her lips twitch, stifling a smile. “In the hierarchy of anime jokes, that is unacceptable.” I take another step back, shaking my head. “Nope. Not funny. We’re done here.”
She bursts into laughter, completely unrepentant, doubling over at my reaction. “You’re a terrible person,” I say. She just laughs harder, wiping at her eyes, then points toward the stack of envelopes sitting on the counter.
“How about,” she says, still grinning and leading me into the bedroom, “we have a different kind of evening?” She urges me to sit on the edge of the bed with a gentle push, then grabs her bag and goes into the bathroom. When she comes back out a few minutes later…I’m in trouble. Deep red lips, black mesh bra, and leather shorts with thigh-high leather boots.
My eyes lock on hers as she stalks over to the bed and straddles me, the press of her body pinning me flat to the mattress. A kiss, and she bites at my lower lip. I wrap my fingers through her hair as her tongue parts my lips, pulling her body closer to mine, but she bucks away. Her hands pin my wrists down as she arches out of my grip. “Don’t touch me.” She slices through my core with a single glare.
“Oh.” I swallow. “Okay.” Is she still mad at me? She grabs my chin and forces me to look at her.
“This is about you. Not me.” I nod, words suddenly unable to form.
She works my body, kissing, licking, biting at my neck, chest, and stomach. I like aggressive Alana as much as submissive. And I love watching her be in total control of the situation and the joy it brings her. With her ass in the air and her lips around my cock, she sucks me, taking me deeper into her throat, hitting her gag reflex and trying again.
“Alana,” I moan as she works me with her tongue and lips. Her hand wraps around my shaft, and I see stars as I come.
I lie there panting and trying to regain control. She is so beautiful, the lips, the red blush freckling her chest like it does when she’s turned on. She shifts back from me again, standing at the foot of the bed. And then her fingers slip beneath the waistband of her shorts.
“I’m so wet,” she groans. Her hand works herself, and while I can’t see exactly what she’s doing, I know. She stands out of my reach on purpose, pleasing herself. She pauses when I sit up and reach for her and doesn’t keep playing with herself until I ease back again to let her. I want to touch her, to be able to do something for her, but she’s moaning again and lolling her head back. Then she pulls her hand out from her shorts and brings her glistening finger to her lips and sucks it. Watching her taste herself is the most erotic thing I have ever seen her do.
I think she’s coming back to me, but instead she struts back to the bag on the floor. The second I see the cuffs, my pulse jumps. She’s not going to let me please her at all, is she? "Alana..."
"What?" she asks, entirely too pleased with herself as she tosses the bag on the end of the bed. A slow grin spreads across my face, recognizing the game she’s playing.
"You've been waiting all day to do that, haven't you? She doesn't answer. She just cuffs my wrists to the headboard, and I’m ready to go again.
Unzipping her shorts, they fall to the floor. Her boots and bra are black against her pale skin, and a flash of pink. All I can do is stare. The room feels smaller. Hotter. It takes three steps for her to reach the bed. Each one stretches my patience thinner.
Every movement is deliberate, and she knows exactly what she's doing to me. My hands ache to touch her. My tongue dries until I can taste her. My pulse pounds so hard it drowns out every rational thought in my head. The distance between us feels impossible.
Alana’s tiny moans send me into a frenzy. Her eyes darken just before she leans in and kisses me, deep and hungry, her hands holding my head in place. My breath catches. The rest of the world falls away until there's only her. She pauses just long enough to study my face, and the look in her eyes steals what little self-control I have left. Amusement. Confidence. Affection. Holy shit, what is she doing to me?
“Do you want to touch me?” she purrs.
“God, Alana, yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re so beautiful, because you drive me insane,” I start, but she tilts her head to the side.
“Or because you want to make me come?” she asks, her voice dark and seductive.
“Fuck yeah,” I say in a low confident growl.
She makes a little hmm noise and reaches into the bag again, pulling out a small bottle of lube. Slowly, she coats her finger, and when I think she’s about to touch herself, she slides her hand around my ass instead.
