“Maybe,” I say, my breath catching as she shifts her hips, brushing against where my erection feels like it’s on fire. “And sleeping together is probably a bad idea, but if we don’t stop soon, I’m not sure I’ll be able to, Emma. I need you so damned bad. So, if you don’t want to go through with this, tell me now. The offer to lie about everything still stands, but if we’re not going to be together, I need to leave the house or something because I’m—”
“Don’t you dare,” she says, putting a finger to my lips. “Don’t even think about leaving.”
“Because you want me?” I ask, needing to hear it one more time.
“Because I need you.” She reaches for the top of my trunks again, opening the tie and slipping her hand inside, wrenching a groan from my throat as her cool fingers wrap around my burning length. “Please touch me. Please.”
With a soft sound of surrender I curl my fingers into the top of her bikini bottoms and yank it down around her ankles. A beat later I’ve popped the clasp at the back of the top and shoved my own suit to the floor.
And then Emma and I are tumbling naked onto my bed, our mouths fused and our hands…everywhere.
Chapter 8
Emma
The world is spinning and upside down and I’m more scared than I can remember being in my entire life.
But I’m more alive, too.
For the first time in so, so long, I’m not locked away in a cage of modest undergarments and heavy dresses and expectations and Dad’s endless rules. I’m free, weightless and sparkling all over as Asher pulls the pins from my hair, spreading it out across the pillow with his fingers as he kisses his way down my throat, murmuring something that sounds like, “So damned beautiful.”
I feel beautiful.
That’s a first, too.
We have mirrors on the compound, so I know I’m not ugly. But I’ve always felt invisible, like I’m hiding behind a mask, waiting for the sign that it’s safe to drop the act and change out of my costume. I’ve been wearing the traditional prairie style dresses since I was a girl, but not a single piece of clothing I’ve ever owned has felt like a reflection of who I am.
Up to this point, my clothing was designed to obliterate my individual identity, to mark me as part of a group—a group whose eccentricities have always loomed so much larger than my personality or my preferences or anything else about me.
But now, naked in Asher’s bed, for the first time in my life, I am purely Emma. I am just…me—a girl on the verge of becoming a woman, a person waking up to my capacity for pleasure, a soul determined not to miss out on any of the glorious mysteries of life.
“I don’t want to put my dress back on. I want to burn it,” I tell Asher as his lips close around my nipples and he—oh my goodness, is he…?
I cry out, arching into his mouth as he sucks my flesh deep into the warm heat of his mouth, sending shockwaves of arousal coursing between my legs. “Oh, Asher. Oh yes. That feels so good.”
“You’re so sensitive,” he says, his breath coming fast as he kisses his way over to my other nipple. “It’s so fucking hot, Em. And fuck no, you’re never putting that thing on again. I’ll go buy you something new to wear tomorrow.”
“You will?” I moan, squirming as he ministers to my other breast, making my head spin.
“I will,” he promises, kissing my ribs now and then my belly. “I’ll make you breakfast, then go buy you a sundress from the shop by the golf course. They have lots of things with tiny skirts, and I need to see you in a tiny skirt.”
“That sounds—” I break off with a whimper of protest as he spreads my legs wide, and his mouth strays even lower. I try to bring my thighs back together, but he easily overpowers me, pinning them to the mattress with his big hands. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to fuck you with my tongue,” he says, scooting down until his face is between my legs.
My cheeks go so hot it feels like they’re on fire. “No, I can’t. I—”
“You don’t have to do a thing,” he says, using his thumbs to spread my sex wide, causing the embarrassment swelling inside me to threaten to explode like a land mine. “You just have to lay back and tell me what feels good.”
I start to beg him to stop, to tell him I’m not ready for kinky stuff, but then he kisses me—there. His lips press against where my clit is pulsing and then his tongue traces a firm circle around my most sensitive place and my protest vanishes in a shocked rush of breath.
Because that?
That thing that’s always sounded so gross and wrong?
It may be the best thing I’ve ever felt.
But surely, Asher can’t be enjoying this. “You don’t…” I touch light fingers to his head, even though stopping him is the last thing I want to do. “You don’t have to do this. Really, it must taste—”
“I want to do this,” he says, looking up at me from between my legs, meeting my gaze across the expanse of my bare, flushed skin. He reaches up, cupping my breast and playing with my nipple as he adds, “And you taste so good. Like salt and sex and…Emma.” He kisses my thighs, his eyes still locked on mine. “So spread your legs wider and let me devour this sweet pussy, baby. I’m going to make your body weep with happiness. I promise.”
Before I can respond, he kisses me again, his lips and tongue moving against the wet skin between my legs like he can’t get enough of my taste, my body. And then he hooks his hands around my thighs and forces my legs even wider, slanting his head until his tongue strokes inside me, spearing into where I’m swollen and aching.
It feels insanely good—especially when he starts to rub my clit with his thumb at the same time—but somehow, it’s not enough. Even when I come, my entire body exploding like a firework streaking across a night sky, I don’t feel completely satisfied.
And I have a feeling I won’t be satisfied until we finish this.
Really finish it.
“Inside me,” I beg as Asher’s lips crash into mine. I wrap my legs around his hips and my arms around his shoulders, holding him close as he devours me, sending a salty sweet taste teasing into my mouth.
I realize the taste is me—my sex, my arousal—and the fire burning inside me blazes even higher.
He’s right, I taste good. Earthy and intimate and…womanly.
Right now, I feel like a woman. I’m not a girl anymore, I’m a fully grown adult whose body knows what I need from the man in my bed.
Bolder than I would have imagined possible, I reach down, clasping Asher’s erection in my fingers and guiding him to my entrance.
“Wait,” he says, freezing as the tip of him touches where I’m so desperate for him it feels like I’ll die if he doesn’t push inside me soon. “Got to get a condom.”
“Oh. Right.” I blink faster, but it does nothing to clear my head. “I can’t believe I almost forgot.” I force my hand from his arousal, breath rushing out as he pulls away.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Asher reaches past my head to the bedside table and jerks open the drawer. He sits back, ripping open the foil packet and tossing it to the floor. He places the condom on the tip of his cock and slowly rolls it down, holding my gaze the entire time. “Are you ready for me, Emma? Because I am so damned ready to be inside you.”
Forcing myself not to look too hard at the thick eight—or maybe nine?—inches between his legs, I nod. “Yes. Please. Inside me.”
I know it’s going to hurt, and I’m scared, but I couldn’t stop this now if I tried. The need to have his cock buried inside me is a primal need so much stronger than my fear.
Still, I can’t help flinching as he lengthens himself on top of me again.
“Relax, baby,” he says when he settles between my legs. “Don’t tense up, just take deep easy breaths and think about how much you want this dick.” He kisses me as he fits his erection to my entrance. “You do want this dick, don’t you, Emma?”
“I-I do,” I say, the words making me feel dirty, but turned on
, too.
“Then tell me.” He pushes against me with just the slightest pressure, making my sex throb hungrily in response. “Tell me what you want.”
“You. I want you. Now.” I lift my hips, trying to intensify our connection, but he pulls back, making my breath rush out in frustration. “Please, Asher. Please.”
“You don’t have to beg, sweetheart,” he says, teasing my nipples with one hand, quickly building my need to the head-spinning place again. “You just have to tell me that you need this dick. Beg for this fat dick, baby girl. Beg me, Emma. Beg me to pop your cherry.” He trembles as he presses a little deeper. “Fuck, Emma, do it. Beg me so I can make you mine. Can’t wait to be buried inside you, Em. Need it so damned bad.”
“Yes, please,” I say, my voice breaking as I add, “Fuck me, Asher. Please fuck me. Please, I need your dick so bad. I need your dick inside me.”
My words end in a cry as he drops his hips with a groan of triumph and surrender. He shoves deep with one sharp thrust, sending pain knifing through me as he penetrates my barrier, tearing me wide open.
I cling to his arms, wincing as he keeps pushing deeper, deeper, forcing me to take every thick inch of him as my body struggles to adjust. I can feel my inner walls trying to accommodate him and pleasure trying to rise from the ashes of the pain, but it’s too intense.
I’m about to beg him to pull out and give me a second before we try again, when he grabs my wrists, pinning them to the mattress above me as he stares down into my eyes.
“Now, I’m going to hold real still, and I just want you to keep breathing,” he says, sweat dripping down the side of his face. It looks like he’s in pain, too, but I sense it’s not the kind of pain I’m feeling. His pain is about an abundance of pleasure not an absence of it. “And I’m going to tell you a story.”
“A story?” I echo, curiosity helping banish a bit of the pain, but only a bit. His cock still feels like a button stuffed through too small a hole. “What about?”
“It’s about you and me,” he says, brushing his lips softly against mine. “It’s what I used to daydream about in class. I’d sit behind you and stare at your bun, imagining your hair spilling around your shoulders.” His hands skim down my arms. “And you naked like this. Naked and under me, with your breasts flushed and your nipples pink and tight and begging for my touch.” He kneads my left breast, the feel of his firm touch and the way his palm skims across my nipple making my breath come faster. “Then I’d imagine you reaching between your legs to touch yourself, your little hand busy on your clit while you begged me to bend you over your desk and fuck you from behind.”
“And did you?” I ask, sparks beginning to flicker low in my body.
The combination of his words and the way he’s gently pulsing his pubic bone against mine, applying pressure to my clit without shifting his erection, is working some kind of dark magic. Slowly, pleasure is rising, like a wave gathering the strength to crash into the shore.
“Yeah, I did.” He circles his hips, hitting the bundle of nerves at the top of me at a new angle, making me gasp with the sweetness of it. “I turned you over, bent you over your desk, and spanked your ass until my handprints were all over it. And you loved every second of it,” he says, pulling out just a little and gliding back in, adding to the bliss swirling inside. “You were so eager your pussy was dripping for me by the time I pushed inside you. Fuck, you were so damn wet, Emma, just like you are now.” He draws all the way out and then sinks even deeper with a groan.
“Yes.” I rock my hips forward to meet him. “It’s starting to feel good, Asher. So good.”
“It would feel even better without a condom.” He establishes a slow, sensual rhythm that has me every bit as rapt as his words. “That was part of my fantasy, buttercup. That I took you bare. You were begging me to use a condom, warning that you’d be in so much trouble if I got you pregnant, but I didn’t care. I needed to feel you slick and hot on me, needed it like air.” He moves faster, his groan echoing mine as he shifts my legs just the slightest bit, just enough to help us get even closer. “And I needed to come inside you. I needed to know I was leaving every last drop in your pussy.” He kisses me again, hard and deep, both of us writhing faster as he confesses against my lips, “I want it now, baby. I want to rip off this condom and take you bare. I want to fuck my baby into you, so everyone knows your mine and you’ll always be mine.”
“Yes, yes,” I pant, though I’m not entirely sure what I’m agreeing to, only that his words have me burning up and I’m so close to coming again that I’m frantic for more of him, wiggling my hips to get closer, deeper, bucking against him until he drives into me harder.
“No, we can’t.” He pulls back far enough to meet my gaze as he continues to ride me, his features twisting with a mixture of pleasure and pain. “We have to leave the condom on, Em. We have to. But someday not too far from this day I’m going to make that fantasy a reality. I’m going to bend you over and take what I want from you.” He pistons faster between my legs, tightening the knot of pleasure gathering low in my body. “I’m going to fuck you bare Emma and I’m not going to pull out. I’m going to breed you. I’m going to dump every bit of my come in you, and you’re going to spread your legs and take it and beg me to do it again.”
He fists his hand in my hair, pulling my head back as he orders, “But right now, you’re going to come for me. Yes, Emma, fuck, just like that,” he says as I begin to unravel, “I feel your pussy so tight on me, baby. Fuck, yes.” His thrusts grow frantic, the urgency in him calling to the urgency in me, sending my orgasm crashing down like a wave colliding with the shore.
I cry out and lift my hips, bucking into him as he chases his release. And when he finds it, his growl of satisfaction as his cock pulses inside me is the sweetest thing I’ve heard in ages. Nearly as sweet as him murmuring, “Yes, Emma. Damn, you’re so sexy. So beautiful. That was so damn good,” against my neck as he catches his breath on top of me.
I feel all of those things—sexy and beautiful and so good that when he pulls back a few moments later with a worried expression on his face I’m completely taken off guard.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, mystified.
“I just… I didn’t mean any of that. Or most of it, anyway,” he says. “It was just dirty talk. I wasn’t planning to…” He sighs. “The words just came out.”
I study his face. “I know. I understand. That kind of talk, it’s kind of like…playing pretend. But in bed. Right?”
“Yeah. Exactly.” His features relax as he pulls out of me and disposes of the condom in a tissue from the bedside table. “It just seemed like we both liked it so…I went for it.”
I bite my lip. “I did like it. I like imagining you so crazy for me you can’t stop yourself from doing things you shouldn’t.”
He sighs. “I’m pretty sure everything we’ve done tonight is something we shouldn’t have. But I don’t care.”
“I don’t care, either,” I say as he stretches out beside me. I scoot closer and roll onto my side, resting my head on his chest as I add in a whisper, “It was the best thing ever.”
“The very best.” He holds me close as my eyes get heavy, making me think he feels what I feel—like the world is shifting and my enemy is becoming my friend.
Or maybe something even more special than a friend…
I’m in the middle of a vivid fantasy in which Asher is my boyfriend and we’re up in Laura’s treehouse in her backyard doing this all night long, when I drift off to sleep, warm and relaxed and…home.
This boy could become my home, I realize, but it isn’t a scary thought.
Not scary at all.
Chapter 9
Emma
I don’t know how long I sleep in Asher’s arms.
I only know that I wake up screaming so loud that my throat feels raw.
I bolt into a seated position in the near blackness with a fist pressed to my chest. My heart is racing, and I’m so disoriented by the
feel of air conditioning on my bare skin that for a long moment I have no idea where I am.
Then Asher’s warm hand comes to rest on my shoulder and he asks—“You okay, baby?”—and it all comes rushing back. The pool and our first kiss and then all the firsts that came after…
I’m not a virgin anymore.
I’m safe.
“But I don’t feel safe,” I mumble, struggling to shake the dream.
It just felt so terrifyingly real.
“What’s that?” Asher sits up beside me in bed, brushing my hair from my face.
I exhale. “Nothing. It was just a dream. Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize for having a nightmare, Emma,” he rumbles, his voice deep and husky with sleep. “What was it about?”
My throat tightens. “Dumb stuff.”
“Dumb stuff doesn’t make you wake up screaming.” He shifts, catching my gaze in the faint glow from the parking lot light drifting through the curtains. “You can tell me. I won’t make fun of you or anything like that. I know what it’s like. I had nightmares for a long time after Jackson and I got out. It’s like…your body knows you’re free, but it takes time for your brain to catch up.”
“Yeah.” I shiver. “I don’t know if my brain is ever going to catch up.”
“It will eventually,” he says, the confidence in his tone helping slow my still-racing heart. “But talking helps. Talking about the nightmares and the bad memories and what you’re afraid of and, you know…other stuff.”
I tip my head, studying his face. “What kind of other stuff?”
He shrugs uncomfortably, but says, “Like what you’re grateful for. I know it sounds stupid, especially when it doesn’t feel like you have much to be happy about, but it helps. It helps you remember that even when things feel really shitty, life isn’t all bad. A lot of it is actually pretty amazing.”
Broken by the Bully (Beauty in the Breaking Book 1) Page 5