On instinct, I take his hand. “Tonight was amazing. Better than amazing.”
“It was the best night of my life.”
“Me, too,” I whisper, my mouth going dry as I add, “So why am I having nightmares about Walter on top of me in the dark?”
Asher’s fingers tighten around mine, his hand a lifeline in the cool, shadowy room. “Maybe because you know what sex is like now? So, your subconscious has a better idea how bad being forced to be with someone like Walter could be? It was probably processing that while you were sleeping.”
My lips curve. “You should be a social worker. Or a therapist.”
He snorts. “Nah, I’ve been to too many therapists to want to be one. But I can put you in touch with the lady who helped Jackson and me if you want. We had to go through a few shrinks before we found one that worked, but once we did, she really helped us flush all the bad programming. I didn’t even realize how crazy some of the things we were taught were until Dr. Betty broke the mind control stuff down and helped us take it apart.”
Keeping the sheet pinned to my chest, I shift to face him. “Like what?”
“Oh…let me think,” he says, exhaling long and slow. After a beat he taps a finger on top of my hand. “Like the whole ‘sex before marriage is sinful’ thing. Or that sex is sinful at all. It isn’t. It’s just a drive, a human need, like for food or water or safety. It’s okay to want it and enjoy it and not to wait for marriage. As long as you’re into it and your partner is into it…go nuts.”
My chin tucks sharply back toward my neck and Asher laughs.
“You look like a turtle popping back into its shell.” He releases my hand to run two fingers up my throat.
I laugh as I flinch away. “I mean, that makes sense, I guess. And logically I think I agree with you. I just…” I hunch my shoulders closer to my ears. “The guilt voice in my head is convinced I’m going to hell if I even start thinking like that, let alone sleeping with whoever I want, whenever I want.”
He leans closer, his arms going around me as he rumbles, “Yeah, I don’t like the sound of that, either.”
“No?” I ask, smiling as his lips close in on mine.
“No.” He kisses me soft and slow before he whispers against my cheek, “Unless I’m the only ‘whoever’ you’re fucking whenever.”
My heart skips a beat before swelling to twice its usual size. “Yeah? So, you’re saying you want more of this hot Cult Barbie action?”
“I want more Emma,” he says, kissing me again, making my skin tingle all over. “Turns out I’m pretty crazy about her.”
Spirit soaring, I wrap my arms around his neck, holding on as he guides me back onto the mattress. “I’m pretty crazy about you, too, but…”
“But what?” He props up on his side next to me, his fingers teasing across the top of the sheet, just above the swell of my breasts.
My nipples tighten in anticipation, already aching for his touch, but surely, “We can’t do it again already can we? I thought women could only comfortably have sex once or twice a month, and that’s why it’s natural for men to take more than one wife.”
Asher smiles. “Nah, that’s complete bullshit. That’s not even in the normal version of the Bible. That's pure Bob craziness. You can have sex as often as you want. You might be sore now, since it was your first time, but it won’t always be like that. Pretty soon it won’t hurt at all. It’ll just feel good.”
“It already feels good,” I say, skimming the side of his face with my fingertips, not wanting to forget a moment of this incredible night. “And I’m a little sore, but not too sore.”
“Not too sore for what?” he teases as he traces a light circle around my erect nipple through the sheet. “For us to go horseback riding tomorrow morning?”
I grin. “Do you have a horse?”
“No, I’ve got something even better,” he says. “Ready to learn how it feels on top?”
“Yes, please,” I say, my heart racing as he jerks the sheet from between us and rolls over onto his back.
He guides my hand between his legs where he’s already hard. I moan in appreciation as he says, “This is yours, Emma. It belongs to you. Do whatever you want with it, whatever makes you feel good, but first I want to make you come again. Can I do that?” His hands come to my breasts and his fingers find my nipples, making stars flash in the shadows.
“Yes.” I gasp as he drags me on top of him and spreads my legs, bringing my already wet center into intimate contact with his hard, velvety heat. I expect him to reach down and fit himself to me the way he did before, but instead he grips my bottom in both of his hands and begins to rock me slowly, gently back and forth, rubbing my clit against his shaft.
“Oh, wow…” My breath shudders out as the blissful friction makes my blood pump faster and that increasingly familiar tension coil low in my body.
“Good?” he asks.
“Yes,” I breathe, bracing my hands on either side of his face. “So good.”
“Good. Keep moving just like that while I show your breasts how fucking perfect they are.” His hands move from my bottom to my breasts. He cups my already aching flesh, guiding first one nipple and then the other to his mouth. He licks and sucks and then he bites—God, he bites my nipples, and it is the most deliciously wicked thing to ever happen to me.
And all the while, the storm inside me is swirling hotter and higher, until it feels like a tornado is barreling through the center of my body.
But this storm doesn’t destroy, it renews. It heals. It transcends.
I come screaming Asher’s name, pleasure filling my skin to overflowing as he shifts our position and pushes up into my pulsing channel, the feel of his thick cock shoving through my swollen flesh making the bliss last even longer.
“Oh, yes,” I say, rocking on top of him as the waves roll through me, over and over. “I like it like this. You’re so deep inside me.”
“So damned deep,” he growls, shoving up into me as he grips my bottom, pulling me closer at the end of each thrust. “I’m giving you every fucking inch of me, but you still want more, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I confess. “I don’t ever want you to stop. Not ever.”
“And how about this? If I do this, do you want me to stop?”
Before I can ask what he means I feel pressure against my anus and then a firm invasion as he pushes what feels like on thick finger inside.
I tense up, too shocked to know what to make of the sensation at first.
But then Asher whispers in my ear, “Don’t pretend you don’t like it, buttercup. You’re not a good girl.” He pushes his finger deeper as he continues to thrust inside me, making that “about to come” feeling swell inside me again. “You’re a dirty little girl just waiting for permission to be bad. You like my finger in your ass and my dick in your pussy, don’t you, Emma? You like how full of me it makes you feel.” I whimper and he moves faster, harder. “Fuck yes, baby, I can feel you getting tight on my cock, you little slut. That’s right. Come on my fat dick, sweetheart. Come so hard for me. Tell me how much you like getting fucked. Tell me, Em. Tell me.”
“I love getting fucked,” I gasp as the dam breaks. I come with a rush of fluid between my legs and a pulsing in my rear entrance that feels wrong, but oh so right. “Oh God, oh Asher, oh my God.”
“Not God, I told you.” He flips me over onto to my belly and shoves back into me from behind. He fists a hand in my hair, riding me hard as he grunts, “Tell me who you worship, Emma. Tell me. Who’s your god, little fuck slut? Tell me it’s my dick. Tell me I’m all you need, baby girl.”
My lips open and words spill out in a flood.
I’m not sure what I say, but whatever it is makes Asher absolutely crazy. He pounds into me with an abandon that makes my bones ache and then pulls out, coming on my back with a wild sound that makes me feel like the most powerful women in the world.
I did that to him.
I made Asher Hansen come completely undone.
&n
bsp; “Shit, Em,” he pants into my hair. “I forgot about the condom. I pulled out, but I shouldn’t have done that. We should use protection.”
I glance over my shoulder as he drags a wad of tissues over the hot fluid on my back. “Are you… Do you have STDs?”
“No, I don’t,” he says, with a laugh that makes me feel less awkward about asking the question. “I haven’t been with anyone since Christmas and I’ve been tested, but we don’t want to risk a baby. There’s no room in our life for that right now.”
“No, there isn’t,” I agree, but some crazy part of me insists there are far worse fates than being pregnant with Asher’s child. Or baby would be so beautiful.
Logically, I know I’m still not ready—I’m just high on sex hormones and not thinking clearly—but for the first time in my life I understand the pull to have babies. When you love someone like this, babies just feel…natural.
Love…
Could I really be in love with Asher?
And could he have feelings for me, too?
As he returns from washing his hands in the bathroom down the hall and settles beside me again, I ask, “Should we take a picture now? Something to send to my dad?”
He shakes his head. “No. I don’t want to do that. I… I don’t want to share you.” He gathers me close, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Not with anyone. Especially not your asshole father.”
“But I want to do this,” I whisper, my heart full. “For you. And for me. For…us.”
He brushes my hair tenderly from my face. “For us. That sounds nice.”
“It does,” I agree. “So, let’s do it. But you should take it. I’m sure you’re much better at selfies than I am.”
“All right,” he says, reaching for my phone. “But be sure to roll over so your chest is against mine and your breasts aren’t showing.” I do as he asks, loving the way he sighs in pleasure as he wraps an arm around me and lifts the one holding the camera over our heads. “Say ‘I like it when Asher fucks me.’”
Giggling I say, “I love it when Asher fucks me.”
The flash goes off just as he kisses me on the forehead again.
When my eyes adjust, he shows me the shot, a picture of two people who look very happy, very sexy, and totally in love.
Throat tight, I nod. “Yeah. That’s a good one. Let’s send that.”
So, we do. And I don’t regret it, not for a second.
In fact, I’m asleep not five minutes after I hit “send,” too satisfied and well-loved and full of hope to resist sinking into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Chapter 10
Asher
From the Texts of
Asher and Jackson Hansen:
ASHER: Hey, just saw your texts. Sorry, I was busy.
JACKSON: Busy doing what? It’s two in the morning. If you’re having a graduation party, you’d better be planning to spend tomorrow cleaning the apartment like your life depends on it. The only way to get away with breaking the rules is if I can’t tell that you broke them. You know that.
ASHER: I’m not breaking the rules. I have a guest.
JACKSON: Oh, well then, don’t let me interrupt you, little bro. Just be sure to wrap it up. Getting a girl pregnant would put a major dent in your “getting out of Appleton” plans.
ASHER: I know, I’m not a fucking idiot, Jackson. At least not about that.
JACKSON: Woah, easy there. What crawled up your ass and died? Usually, you’re happier when you’re with one of your friends with bennies.
ASHER: It isn’t like that with this girl. She’s different. Special.
JACKSON: Oh, I see. So, you’ve finally done it, huh? Gone and fallen in love? I told you the right girl would turn your world upside down.
ASHER: That’s the thing—she’s not the right girl. She’s the wrong girl. The more I think about what we did tonight, the more I think it was a mistake. I’m not good for her and…I’m not sure she’s good for me, either.
JACKSON: Why? All joking aside, you’re a good man, Asher, and loyal as hell. A girl could do a lot worse.
ASHER: But I’m not a good man when I’m with her. At least, I wasn’t until tonight. I was an asshole. She shouldn’t like me the way she does.
JACKSON: Maybe she likes assholes. A lot of girls do, though I can’t say I’d recommend getting in deep with someone like that. First off—you’re better than that. Second—you want a girl who is, too. You want a partner who has her shit together and doesn’t take any shit from anyone else.
ASHER: I don’t think she knows how to do that. No one ever taught her. She was taught to keep her mouth shut and do what men told her.
JACKSON: Oh fuck, no. You didn’t. Tell me Emma Carpenter isn’t in your bed right now.
ASHER: How did you know it was her?
JACKSON: You’ve had stars in your eyes over that girl since you were a kid. But you’re right—she IS the wrong girl. Bob will lose his shit when he finds out.
ASHER: That was the plan. Emma needed to be “ruined” so Bob wouldn’t marry her off to one of his creepy old friends tomorrow. And I wanted that monster to know I was the one who did the ruining.
But now it just feels…fucked up.
Fucked up that Emma liked me even when I was a complete dick to her, fucked up that she likes it when I talk dirty to her in bed, and even more fucked up that we sent Bob a picture of us together.
JACKSON: YOU DID WHAT?!
ASHER: It wasn’t anything super dirty, just a selfie with Emma on my chest with her hair down. You can’t really see anything, but it’s obvious neither of us is wearing a shirt.
JACKSON: When did you send this picture?
ASHER: Thirty minutes ago? Maybe a little less? I tried to go back to sleep after, but I couldn’t. My stomach’s in fucking knots.
JACKSON: Probably because it knows you’re in danger. Lock the doors and keep your cell close. Be ready to dial 911 if you need help. I’ll be home in a couple hours. I’m packing my bag now.
ASHER: You don’t have to do that. I’m fine here with Emma. Bob wouldn’t start something in town. He’s only the big boss man on his land.
JACKSON: Bob has friends in high places, Asher. Including a couple crooked cops on the police force. If they happen to be the ones on duty tonight you could be in deep trouble. No matter what you do, don’t answer the door or let anyone in. If cops show up, say you need to see a search warrant. If they don’t have one—and they won’t—tell them you’re sorry, but your brother told you not to open the door. Then go back upstairs and lock yourself in your room.
ASHER: You’re blowing this out of proportion. It’s dead quiet over here, and we don’t even know if Bob’s seen the text yet. He might not see it until morning.
JACKSON: Let’s hope so. I’ll be home soon. If trouble shows up, call 911 first and then me. The people at the dispatch aren’t on Bob’s payroll. They’ll help you out, assuming they can get there in time.
ASHER: Okay, psycho. Drive safe. And relax. Seriously, everything is going to be fine.
JACKSON: I hope you’re right. I really do. But if you need a place to hide out, head to Daisy’s place. She won’t mind if you wake her up. She doesn’t work on Saturdays anymore.
ASHER: All right. If I need to, I’ll go to her place. I’m assuming Emma can come, too? If she wants? I’m not sure if she has somewhere to go until tomorrow. Her best friend wasn’t at graduation tonight.
JACKSON: Sure, bring Emma, but…don’t be surprised if she goes back to Bob, okay? It’s not easy to leave your home and family and everything you know behind, even if they are weird as hell and borderline abusive.
ASHER: There’s nothing borderline about it. And Emma will come with me. I’m sure of it. That’s part of the problem.
JACKSON: Okay, I agree that Emma comes with a lot of baggage. But if you care about each other, don’t let me or Bob or the voice in your head screw things up for you two.
As far as I remember, she’s a really sweet girl and you’re a good
man.
You ARE a good man, Asher. Can you be an annoying shithead sometimes? Hell yes. But deep down you’re as solid as they come. You’d give your life for a friend in trouble and are always there when I need you.
You’ve helped raise me as much as I’ve raised you, bro. You’ve got a lot to offer, and the right person is going to look past the “mad at the world” thing and see that. She’ll see YOU and how awesome you are.
Maybe Emma is that person.
ASHER: And maybe leprechauns are going to jump out of my ass and offer me three wishes and a pot of gold.
JACKSON: Well, if they do, save some of it for me. I want a vacation home in the Alps. We’ll talk more later. I need to get on the road. My annoying baby brother needs me to get home and remind him that he’s worthy of love.
ASHER: Fuck off.
JACKSON: It’s okay, you can push my love away, and I’ll keep showing up for you, Asher. It’s what big brothers do. But be careful. You do this to a girl, and she might think you’re serious.
ASHER: I’m never texting you again. Ever.
JACKSON: Love you, too. And I’ll be home soon.
Chapter 11
Emma
The next time I wake, it isn’t a nightmare that shocks me out of sleep—it’s a pounding so loud it rattles the walls and a deep voice shouting, “Open the door, boy. I know you’re holding my daughter prisoner in there. You have two minutes before we break down this door.”
Broken by the Bully (Beauty in the Breaking Book 1) Page 6