Chapter 172: I Became Ana’s Muse (Slight R18)
I was now marked in three places—Hellen’s possessive bite on my neck, Reyes’ deeper claim on my inner thighs, Ivory’s fresh one nestled in my cleavage. Honestly, I felt weird and happy at the same time, a dizzying mix of vulnerability and bliss.
The marks tingled whenever I thought about them, sending warm flushes through my skin. Now it was Ana’s turn.
Unlike the others at home, this happened in a five-star hotel suite—plush king bed, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline, champagne chilling on ice.
I sat perched on a velvet stool in nothing but my lacy black underwear, blindfolded with a silk scarf, hands tied loosely behind my back with soft ribbons that allowed just enough wiggle to tease.
The air hummed with anticipation, Ana’s desert sage scent wrapping around me like a wild embrace. I heard the soft scratch of charcoal on canvas nearby.
"Why am I sitting like this?" I asked, voice breathy, shifting slightly—the cool air kissing my exposed skin, nipples pebbling under the thin bra lace.
"I want to etch this memory in my mind and on canvas before I claim you completely," Ana replied, her melodic timbre laced with hunger. Her voice was closer now, footsteps padding across the carpet. "You’re my muse tonight, Emily. Every curve, every shiver—perfect."
"So, I’ve heard," I teased, smirking despite the blindfold, heart racing as the sketching sounds paused.
The canvas rustled aside, and suddenly warm hands cupped my face. "Done. Now, come here." She untied my wrists just enough to guide me up, pulling me onto her lap on the stool.
I straddled her thighs, feeling the heat of her body through her thin robe, her alpha strength cradling me effortlessly.
"Ana, I am your muse?"
"Emily, you attracted me the moment I saw you in the hospital—wheelchair-bound, defiant emerald eyes, that sweet omega scent peeking through the suppressants. Irresistible."
Her fingers deftly unclasped my bra, letting it fall away with a whisper. Cool air hit my breasts, but her palms followed, cupping them gently—thumbs circling the peaks until they stiffened.
"These breasts... so full and heavy, like ripe fruit begging to be tasted. Perfectly soft, with these pretty pink nipples that harden just for me." Then she reached lower, hooking my panties and sliding them off my hips, leaving me fully bare and exposed on her lap.
"And this ass—plush, round cheeks I could sink my teeth into. Spread so invitingly." Her hands kneaded them firmly, a finger tracing the cleft. "Your thighs, creamy and thick, marked already but still trembling for more."
"Beautiful," she breathed, but instead of just hands, something soft and ticklish dragged across my right nipple—a paintbrush, its bristles damp with cool watercolor.
I moaned sharply, arching into it as the feathersoft strokes circled my hardening peak, teasing the sensitive bud in tight spirals until it throbbed.
"Ana... that tickles—ah! Feels too good..."
"Shh, princess. Let me paint you alive." She flicked the brush lightly over the tip, then pressed firmer, painting lazy swirls around my areola—the wet chill contrasting her body heat, sending jolts straight to my core.
She switched to the left nipple, bristles whispering in slow, deliberate spirals—up, down, flicking the underside until I whimpered, hips grinding instinctively against her thigh.
The brush trailed lower, dipping into my navel with teasing circles, then feathering across my ribs, raising goosebumps everywhere.
"Your belly—soft, quivering, leading down to heaven. Ribs so delicate, skin like silk."
Her free hand roamed deeper, joining the torment. Fingers traced my collarbone—"This elegant line, fragile yet strong, pulsing with your heartbeat"—then squeezed my waist. "Hourglass perfection, hips flared wide, made for breeding my pups."
The brush swept over my mound, bristles grazing my slick folds without mercy, parting them lightly to tease my clit in fluttering strokes.
I bucked, gasping. "And this pussy—wet, pink, clenching so desperately for my knot. Swollen lips, dripping nectar. Emily, you’re art incarnate."
"A-Ana, please... touch me more," I begged, blindfold heightening every sensation, body trembling on her lap, slick coating her thigh.
She chuckled low, setting the brush aside but not stopping. Her mouth claimed my right nipple—sucking hard, teeth grazing—while fingers pinched the left, rolling it roughly. "These tits bounce so prettily when you squirm." Kisses trailed down my sternum. "Your cleavage, already Ivory’s territory... jealous, but it frames you like a necklace."
Hands cupped my ass again, spreading the cheeks wide, a finger circling my back entrance. "Plush cheeks, begging to be spread—this tight little hole, puckered and eager, mine to stretch tonight." She dipped shallow there, then forward to my folds. "Front and back, both weeping for me. Thighs quaking—thick, pale pillars I want wrapped around my waist."
"You’re driving me insane," I panted, grinding harder, her hardness pressing up against me.
"Good. Now, taste this—open wide." Still blindfolded, she fed me something cool and juicy—a chilled strawberry, bursting sweet-tart on my tongue as I bit down, juice exploding.
"Savor it, like you’ll savor my knot stretching you. Sweet as your first slick." Dribbles ran down my chin; she licked them clean with a possessive growl, tongue lingering on my throat.
Next came a velvety chocolate truffle—rich, melting decadence coating my mouth. "Dark as your raven hair, but sweeter than the slick leaking from your pussy right now. Suck my thumb clean, omega." I did, moaning as her thumb mimicked thrusting, salty with my saliva.
Then warm honey drizzled slow from a spoon—sticky, golden bliss pooling on my tongue before I swallowed.
"Dripping like your folds, thick and ready to coat my cock. Taste how you taste to me." She kissed me deeply, sharing the flavor, our tongues tangling in a messy, honeyed claim.
A sip of chilled champagne followed next—fizzy, crisp bubbles dancing sharp on my palate.
"Bubbles for the sparks I’ll ignite in your veins. Like the fizz in your belly when I knot you." She poured a thin trail down my chest—from neck to breasts to navel—then lapped it up slowly, growling against my skin.
"Sweeter on you."
A fluffy whipped cream dollop came after, cool and airy, melting instantly.
"Clouds for your soft thighs—lick it off my finger, imagine it’s your cream I’m tasting later." I swirled my tongue around her digit, sucking greedily.
Finally, a ripe mango slice—exotic, juicy explosion flooding my senses, tropical nectar dripping down my throat.
"Wild like my scent, claiming every inch. Your pussy’s weeping more now—does fruit make you this wet, or is it me?" As I was blindfolded, every bite amplified, scents and tastes mingling with hers until I was a writhing, soaked mess on her lap.
"Enough teasing, Ana—claim me now," I demanded breathlessly, grinding desperately against her hardness, body on fire.
"As you wish, my perfect canvas." She untied the blindfold with a flourish, her piercing eyes blazing as she rose, carrying me to the king bed to sink her mark deep.
