Chapter 126 Anna's Creepers

Chapter 126 Anna's Creepers
CHAPTER 126

Anna's Creepers

Anna woke to heat.

Not the dry warmth of the sheets, not the cool whisper of the air-conditioning against her skin—but wet, deliberate heat blooming low in her belly, spreading outward in slow, liquid pulses.

A soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips before her mind even caught up.

Her left thigh was lifted, held high and open by a strong, familiar hand. Warm breath ghosted over her folds—teasing, deliberate.

Then a tongue dragged from her entrance all the way up to her clit in one languid, worshipful stroke.

Her back arched off the mattress on instinct.

“Oh God… William… right there…”

She forced her eyes open through the haze of pleasure already clouding her vision.

He was there—head buried between her spread thighs, dark hair tousled and falling forward, the morning light catching the sharp line of his jaw as he worked.

Obsidian eyes flicked up to meet hers, gleaming with dark satisfaction. A slow, filthy grin curved his mouth, boyish and predatory all at once—begire he dipped back down without a word.

The next lick was slower. Deeper. His tongue parted her folds with unhurried precision, tasting every inch like she was something rare and sacred he intended to savor for hours.

He flattened his tongue against her clit, pressing firm, steady pressure, then circled—once, twice, lazy spirals that made her hips twitch.

Anna's fingers found his hair, threading through the thick strands, gripping just tight enough to feel him hum in approval against her core.

He's going to ruin me… and I’m going to let him.

“So fucking sweet,” he murmured, voice low and rough against her sensitive flesh. The words vibrated straight through her.

“Could live between these thighs. Taste you every morning until you forget your own name.”

Oh God… what's my name again?

He sucked her clit gently between his lips—soft pull, then released and soothed the throb with his tongue again. Slow. Methodical. Building her up like he had all the time in the world.

Anna’s breaths came shorter, sharper. “William… please…”

He didn't answer with words.

Instead he shifted—hooked her leg higher over his shoulder, opening her wider. His expert tongue slid through her slickness pushing inside—slow, deep, curling that spot that made her gasp.

His mouth returned to her clit, sucking harder now, tongue flicking in quick, relentless little strokes.

The sensation was devastating.

He knew her body better than she did… knew exactly how to break her open.

More wetness flooded out, he groaned low in his throat, lapping it up like he was starved.

The sound, raw, hungry—sent another rush of heat through her as his tongue went faster, pressure building, relentless.

Anna's hips rocked against his face—small, helpless jerks she couldn’t control. Moans spilled freely now, shameless, rising in pitch.

“William… I'm—God—I’m so close…”

He sucked harder with unyielding pressure right where she needed it most.

She shattered.

Her climax ripped through her in violent, rolling waves—thighs clamping around his head, fingers yanking his hair hard enough to hurt, back bowing off the bed as she cried his name.

He didn't stop, licked her through every shudder, every pulse, drinking down every drop until she was trembling, oversensitive, gasping for air.

Only when the aftershocks began to fade did he ease off, soft, soothing licks, gentle kisses to her swollen folds, her inner thighs. Reverent. Worshipful.

He kissed his way back up her body—slow, soft.

Lips brushing the gentle curve of her stomach. Open-mouthed kisses along her waist, the sensitive underside of each breast, the hollow of her throat, the line of her jaw.

When he finally hovered over, forearms braced beside her head, he grinned—dark, satisfied, utterly male.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

Anna laughed breathlessly, wrecked. “If you wake me up like that every morning… I’ll be the most excited person on the planet for sunrise.”

William’s grin turned downright feral. “Careful what you wish for, sweetheart. I might make it a daily ritual… just so I can taste how many times I can make you come before you beg me to stop.”

She shivered—already aching for more when William shifted above her.

He watched her face the entire time—eyes dark, hungry, drinking in every flutter of her lashes, every shallow breath.

He's memorizing me… like he’s going away for years instead of a week.

Two fingers slid through her folds—slow, teasing—coating themselves in the slick evidence of her first orgasm.

He circled her entrance, letting her feel the gentle pressure without giving her what she craved.

Anna’s hips lifted instinctively. “Please…”

William’s lips curved—just a hint of that wicked smile. “Patience, sweetheart.”

He pressed one finger inside her so slow she felt every ridge, every inch as he sank in to the knuckle.

Her walls fluttered around the intrusion, greedy, already wanting more.

He paused there—buried deep—letting her adjust, letting her feel the stretch, the heat, the way her body clung to him like it never wanted to let go.

Then he curled.

The pad of his finger dragged against that perfect, spongy spot inside her.

Anna gasped—sharp, helpless, back bowing off the bed.

“There… right there… you always find it so easily…”

“Feel that? That's where I belong.” He murmured, voice low and rough against her ear.

He added a second finger—slow stretch, careful burn that melted instantly into pleasure.

He thrust deep, once then again, setting a languid rhythm that made her toes curl against the sheets.

His thumb found her clit—swollen, oversensitive—and circled in slow, firm strokes that matched the glide of his fingers inside her.

Anna's nails digging in as pleasure coiled tighter, hotter.

William kissed her, deep, claiming—tongue sliding against hers in perfect sync with the thrust of his hand.

She moaned into his mouth, hips rocking up to meet every plunge, every curl.

Anna tore her mouth away, head falling back against the pillow, holding onto his shoulders as the pleasure started to build again—sharp, overwhelming.

He whispered against her lips, “You’re dripping for me… so wet I can hear it.”

The sound was obscene—wet, slick, rhythmic—as his fingers pumped faster, deeper, curling harder against that spot with every stroke.

Anna’s breaths turned ragged, moans rising in pitch. “William… don’t stop… please don’t stop…”

He didn’t.

He added pressure with his thumb—firmer circles on her clit—while his fingers thrust harder, faster, curling relentlessly.

The stretch was exquisite—borderline too much—pleasure edged with just enough burn to make her tremble.

“Come on my fingers,” he rasped, voice wrecked with restraint. “Let me feel you come apart again… just like this.”

She shattered violently—walls clamping down around his fingers, pulsing wildly as wave after wave crashed through her.

Her cry was muffled against his shoulder; her body shook, thighs trembling, hips bucking as he worked her through it—slowing but never stopping—drawing out every last tremor until she was gasping, boneless, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth.

When the aftershocks finally faded, he withdrew slowly—fingers glistening, slick with her release, eyes dark with hunger.

Anna reached for him, voice wrecked. “I need you… now, please.”

William slid one hand between them, coated his fingers in her wetness, then wrapped them around his cock—stroking himself, smearing her slickness over his erect length.

He notched at her entrance and pushed in—slow, inch by torturous inch.

Anna’s mouth fell open in a silent moan. The stretch was exquisite—pleasure blooming deep as he filled her completely.

William groaned low, forehead dropping to hers. “Fuck… no matter how many times… still so tight…”

He stayed buried for a long moment, letting her adjust, letting them both feel every inch of connection.

Then he began to move—slow, deep rolls of his hips at first, dragging out of her almost entirely before sliding back in.

Anna wrapped her legs around his waist, heels digging into his lower back, pushing him in deeper.

“God, William… yes… just like that…”

He kissed her again—slow, filthy, tongue mimicking the rhythm of his thrusts.

His hands roamed everywhere—cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing her nipples until they ached, sliding down to grip her hips so he could angle deeper.

Every stroke hit that spot that made her see stars; the drag of him inside her was intoxicating.

She rocked up to meet him, matching his pace. “Harder… please… I need more…”

He growled against her throat. “Anything you want.”

He pulled almost all the way out—then slammed back in—hard, deep, relentless.

The bed creaked; skin slapped skin. Anna moaned unabashedly loud, broken, nails raking down his back.

William’s mouth found her neck, sucking marks into her skin, claiming her.

His hands never stopped moving—palming her breasts, pinching her nipples, sliding down to grip her ass and spread her wider, one hand tangling in her hair to tilt her head back so he could kiss her deeper.

Every thrust was powerful, possessive, driving into her with a rhythm that stole her breath.

He fucks her like he owns her… and right now, he does.

“Harder,” she gasped again, voice trembling. “William… fuck me harder…”

He obliged—thrusts turning brutal, hips snapping forward with enough force to make the headboard knock against the wall.

His hand slid between them again, thumb pressing firm circles on her clit while he pounded into her.

“Take every inch,” he rasped, voice wrecked with lust. “That’s it… just like that… so fucking good for me.”

Pleasure coiled tighter, unbearable. Anna’s legs trembled around him, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Come with me,” she begged. “Please… come inside me…”

He buried his face in her neck, thrusts turning erratic. One hand gripped her thigh, spreading her impossibly wider; the other tangled in her hair.

She shattered—walls pulsing wildly around him, body bowing off the bed as she cried his name. “William… ahh… yes…!”

He followed with a guttural groan—hips grinding deep, spilling inside her in thick, hot ropes.

Pulse after pulse filled her, slick and warm, drawing another moan from her lips.

They collapsed together—sweat-slick, breathing ragged.

William pressed his forehead to hers, as Anna pulled him into a kiss—slow, tender.

When they parted she whispered breathlessly, “Come back home safe to me.”

William kissed the tip of her nose. “I promise.” He grinned, still buried inside her, softening slowly. “This is officially the hardest goodbye I’ve ever had to say.”

Anna burst out laughing—bright, happy. “You’re ridiculous.”

He kissed her forehead, soft and lingering. “I’ll see you in a week, sweetheart.”



Much later that afternoon sunlight streamed through the bedroom curtains in lazy golden bars.

Anna lay naked under the sheets, still drifting in post-orgasm haze, when female voices—bright, laughing—filtered into her consciousness.

She snapped awake, sitting up fast, clutching the sheet to her chest.

Emilia and Olivia sat cross-legged on the rug near the foot of the bed. Emilia cradled a steaming coffee mug; Olivia was scrolling on her phone.

Anna blinked. “What are you two doing in here?”

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” Emilia grinned.

Olivia waved. “Morning!”

Emilia sipped her coffee. “We tried waking you earlier when Liam was getting ready to leave, but he basically growled at us to let you sleep. Said you needed the rest.”

Anna smiled—soft, private. “How long have you been sitting there?”

“Over twenty minutes,” Olivia admitted. “We poked you, called your name… nothing. So we decided to camp out until you woke up.”

Anna laughed. “So you’ve just been watching me sleep like a couple of creepers?”

Emilia gasped theatrically. “Excuse you—we were guarding your beauty sleep! Like loyal sentinels. Or very invested stalkers. Take your pick.”

Olivia snorted. “Mostly we were debating whether to draw on your face with eyeliner. Emilia voted yes. I vetoed.”

Anna laughed harder, clutching the sheet tighter. “Thank you for the mercy.”

Emilia took another sip. “Where’s Camille, by the way?”

Emilia perked up. “She actually went out—registered for prenatal yoga.”

Anna’s brows shot up. “Really?”

Olivia nodded. “Yep. Shocked us too.”

Emilia set her mug down. “I’m surprised but honestly thrilled. It’ll be good for her—body, mind, getting out of this house for something that’s just hers.”

Anna smiled—genuine, warm. “I’m so glad she’s doing something for herself. She deserves to feel alive again, not just… surviving.”

Emilia lifted her mug—then frowned. “Oh no. Coffee’s gone.” She pouted dramatically. “Tragic.”

Olivia tilted her head. “That good, huh? Worth a second cup?”

Emilia sighed happily. “Heaven in a mug.”

Olivia wrinkled her nose. “I’ll take your word for it. I don’t even like coffee.”

Emilia gasped in mock horror. “Blasphemy!”

Anna chuckled. “I’m not a coffee person either.”
She wrapped the sheet around herself like a toga and slid off the bed. “Give me a minute—I’ll be right back.”

She padded into the bathroom, closing the door softly.

The moment the cool tile hit her feet, nausea slammed into her like a freight train.

She lunged for the toilet, retching hard—loud, violent. Olivia and Emilia’s voices floated through the door.

“Anna? You okay?”

“Anna!”

She flushed, rinsed her mouth, splashed water on her face.

“I’m okay,” she called back, voice steadier than she felt. “Just morning sickness.”

Olivia’s voice was skeptical. “You sure? Sounded like you were dying in there.”

Anna placed a hand over her belly, smiling softly at her reflection.

At least it means she’s still safe. My baby’s still here—strong, growing. Alive.

“I’m really okay,” she said. “Promise. Give me ten minutes—I’ll meet you downstairs for brunch with the event planner.”

“Take your time!” Emilia called.

The door clicked shut behind them.

Anna turned on the shower. Hot water cascaded over her deliciously sore body—muscles aching in the best way from William’s goodbye.

She smiled, washing slowly, letting steam fill the room.

When she stepped out and wrapped herself in the fluffy bathrobe, she caught her reflection in the mirror.

The small cut on her forehead—Selene’s parting gift—was still faintly visible, pink against pale skin.

Fury ignited—sudden, searing.

That wretched, sick bitch.

Memories flashed: Selene’s hands in her hair, the crack of skull against the wall, the blinding pain, the terror for the tiny life inside her.

Anna’s jaw clenched.

She had the balls to come into my house. Attack me. Try to murder me and my baby. Try to take my husband.

How dare she?

She flipped her wet hair over her shoulder, staring hard at her reflection—eyes cold, resolute.

“It seems like I really have to take care of my problems once and for all,” she said softly, voice steady with dangerous conviction. “Enough games.”

A slow, lethal smile curved her lips.

“I did make a promise to Selene. And I always keep my promises.”