by T. K. Leigh
“There’s an agenda?”
“Oh, absolutely. Eight o’clock: bedroom sex. Nine o’clock: shower sex. Ten o’clock: kitchen island sex. Eleven o’clock…” He pulls back. “Well, I may need a little rest by then.”
I laugh, loving this side of Asher. Loving that even during the most carnal and erotic of moments between us, we’re still the friends we once were. “Is that right?”
“Don’t worry. It’ll be a short rest. I won’t be able to stay away from you for long.” He covers my mouth with his, stealing yet another kiss, although I’d be hard-pressed to call it that. Not when I’d willingly give him every last one of my kisses until he bled me dry.
As he leans back, I loosen my grip on his waist. He runs a firm hand down my stomach, lifting my oversized t-shirt to expose a sliver of flesh over the line of my panties. Lowering his mouth, he traces his tongue around my belly button. I throw my head back, my breathing growing ragged.
“By noon, I’ll be desperate to bury myself inside you again.” He slithers farther south, gripping a thigh and hooking it over his shoulder. My pulse increases when he settles between my legs. “But first, I’ll need to taste you. To consume every last drop of you.” He presses his mouth to me.
I cry out, pulsing against him, my panties a rather unwelcome barrier. I’ve never been this wired, this on edge, this frantic to succumb to whatever this man wants.
When he pulls away, I pant, squirming beneath him. “Don’t stop.” I reach for him, gripping his t-shirt and yanking him back to me. “Tell me more.”
“One o’clock will call for a relaxing bath, where I’ll wash every incredible inch of you.” He moves his mouth to my neck, tugging on my earlobe, the addition of his swirling tongue causing a fire to rush through my veins. I fear the instant he pushes into me, I’ll shatter into a million pieces.
“By two o’clock, I’ll probably need some sort of nourishment. So, naturally, that means kitchen island sex again.” He meets my eyes, winking.
“Naturally.” Giggling, I rake my hands through his hair, and he groans, his eyelids fluttering closed for a brief moment.
“But once we’ve had some food, I’ll take you back to the bedroom and live out a fantasy I’ve had for a very long time.”
“And what’s that?” I flirtatiously bite my lower lip.
“On the off-chance you’ll be wearing any clothes, which is highly doubtful, I’ll strip you naked. Then we’ll crawl under the covers and spend hours in bed, with nowhere to be, no one to answer to, nothing to burst our bubble and force us back to reality.”
He traces the curve of my face. The way he looks at me makes me feel more coveted, more cherished, more loved than any man who’s come before him.
“I’ll hold you as we share our hopes, our dreams. As we plan a future for ourselves, even if there’s no chance of it becoming reality. But it won’t matter. Because in our bubble, anything can happen.” He pushes a tendril of hair behind my ear, his eyes shining with emotion. “I truly believe that, Iz.” His lips brush against mine. “In our bubble, anything can happen,” he repeats. “Anything is possible.”
I swallow hard, wanting to agree, to give him the hope I sense he needs. But what good would that do?
“What happens next?” I ask finally, not wanting to sour my mood with a dose of reality.
He peers at me for a moment, a single brow arched. Then he blows out a breath, not pushing the topic I’m obviously unwilling to discuss. Not yet anyway.
“We’ll come back here. I’ll light a fire in the fireplace, then grab some blankets and make a spot for us on the floor right in front of it. We’ll make love until we’re physically exhausted and fall asleep in each other’s arms, feeling like we finally made it home.” He cups my face in his hands, everything about the way he regards me full of power and sincerity. “You’re my home, Iz. Have been since the first time you smiled at me. And despite all the obstacles, in my heart, I know you always will be.”
Overwhelmed by how passionate and honest he is, I wrap my arms around him, crushing my lips to his, wordlessly giving him everything he wants, everything he deserves. My body. My mind. My heart. They’re no longer mine. They belong to him. His to hold. His to possess. His to keep.
He moves from my mouth, taking his time to savor everything he’s craved this past year. My neck. My ear. My lips again. He inches the hem of my t-shirt farther and farther north, his hand skimming the swell of my breasts.
“Take it off. I need your mouth on me.”
“Anywhere in particular?” he asks coyly, teasing my nipple.
“Right there,” I exhale. “I need you to do that thing. When you suck on it and nibble at the same time.”
“You like that?” He seals his mouth over my covered breast.
I moan, gripping the cushion below me, ready to come unhinged. “God yes.”
“Well then…” He leans back, bringing me with him into a sitting position. “I’m here to please, Miss Nolan.” With a wink, he lifts my t-shirt over my head and tosses it to the floor. His attention focused on me, he brushes a thumb against a nipple. His light touch only serves to increase my insatiable thirst for him.
“More,” I whimper, my eyes fluttering closed.
“Gladly.” He starts to lower me back onto the couch when he stops. “Wait a minute.”
I fling my eyes open. “What is it?”
“I need more space. To make sure you’re properly taken care of.”
Standing, he scoops me into his arms, his steps quick as he rushes up to the second floor. Kicking the door to his room shut, he places me onto his bed, and I inhale the woodsy scent surrounding me. It should feel strange to be in a different room in this house, but it doesn’t. It feels…right.
Crawling over me, he lowers his mouth to my breast, tracing the circumference, teasing and torturing.
“More,” I beg again.
The instant his tongue finds my nipple, I release a sigh, tension rolling off me as I arch into his touch. “God, that feels incredible.”
He chuckles softly. “Good. Because I fucking love the taste of you. Every inch of you.” His teeth scrape against my sensitized flesh and I yelp, then lose myself in the mixture of pleasure and pain.
“Again,” I say once the initial shock wears off.
His tongue draws a line from one nipple to the other, giving it the same treatment. He clamps his teeth onto it, pushing my body higher and higher, my moans of ecstasy echoing around us.
A hand grips my thigh as he hitches up my leg, the circling of his hips against my core causing moisture to pool.
“I want you,” he groans.
“Have me. I’m yours. Always.”
“Always,” he repeats as he continues his journey down my body.
He releases his hold on my leg and settles between my thighs. In this moment, there is nothing sexier than Asher York peering up at me, an unmatched yearning in his eyes as his fingers hook into my panties. His brow cocked in question, I quickly nod, giving him permission.
He drags my panties down my legs, tossing them onto the floor. “I need to taste you.” His voice comes out almost like a growl, the animal residing within making itself known.
“Yes.”
His eyes never leaving mine, he drags a finger along my inner thigh. It ghosts my center, making my pulse spike.
“Please.”
He chuckles as he spreads my desire around, pushing a finger inside, then another. When his tongue presses against me, it takes all my self-control not to fall into oblivion. But I don’t want to rush this. Don’t want the moment to be over before it has begun. I want to savor every thrust of his fingers, every swipe of his tongue, every vibration from his throat.
“So sweet,” he comments between licks. I reach down, digging my fingers into his scalp, losing myself in what this man does to me. When he pulls away, I dart my eyes to him and am met with a devilish smile. “I hope it’s not crude of me to say, but I’ve really fucking missed this pussy.
”
I can’t help but laugh. “And this pussy has really fucking missed you.” I push his head back down. “Now, remind her how incredible you are.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
His tongue returns to me as he slides his fingers inside again, stretching and filling me. I move with the rhythm he sets. I want it to last, but it’s too good, my orgasm taking me by surprise as my screams of ecstasy surround us, fragments of light obscuring my vision.
“That’s it, baby,” Asher hisses through his own labored breathing, not breaking away from me. “Remember that. When you think we won’t survive outside of this, remember what I do to you. What I alone can do to you.”
“Asher,” I plead, my body refusing to come down from my orgasm. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe I deserve to live in this constant state of rapture. “Get inside me. Now.”
Propping myself up, I force him away from me, his chest heaving, lips coated with my desire. When he stands from the bed, I kneel on the mattress in front of him, my body still tingling, and yank his shirt over his head.
He cocks a brow. “Eager?”
“Aren’t you?” I pant.
“You have no fucking idea.”
I pull on his belt buckle, and he takes the hint, sliding it from its loops. He rids himself of the rest of his clothes, tossing them to the side. I take a minute to appreciate everything this man is. Broad shoulders. Sculpted chest. Chiseled abs. Tasteful tattoos covering his muscular arms and spreading along his strong back. I’m sure each one has a story. I want to hear all of them. I want to know everything that’s threaded into the fiber of who he is.
I bring my hand up to his chest and place it over his heart, relishing in the pounding rhythm that matches mine.
“It’s yours,” he offers in a soft voice, the atmosphere shifting from one of animalistic need to unyielding devotion. “Without you, it’s useless. Just an organ in my body.” He wraps an arm around my waist, tugging me against him.
We both sigh at the feel of skin against skin. Flesh against flesh. Heart against heart.
“But with you, it finally beats again. It finally has a reason to beat. You’re my reason.”
“And you’re mine.”
With gentle motions, he lowers me back onto the mattress and crawls on top of me. “Mine,” he repeats, his hips circling, reigniting my body.
“Yours,” I moan, scratching my fingers down his spine.
He kneels between my legs, bringing his erection up to me.
“Wait,” I say as he’s about to thrust inside.
He tears his eyes to mine. “What is it?”
“Are you sure you want to do it like this?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just…” I blow out a breath. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been with other people since you.” My words are hesitant. The last thing I want is for him to tell me he’s changed his mind, but I can’t ignore this discussion.
“How many?” His tone is impassive, more curious than upset.
“One. A doctor at the hospital. We’re not together or anything. Just an occasional hookup when either one of us needs it. We used protection every single time.”
His expression is even as he assesses my confession. Then he nods. “Okay.”
“And you?”
“No one.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
I tilt my head. “You haven’t slept with anyone this past year?”
“I had plenty of opportunities.”
“I imagine you did.”
He leans down. “But something told me it wasn’t over between us. Not yet. So until I knew it was, that there was no longer a chance, my heart remained faithful.”
“My heart remained faithful, too,” I offer in consolation. “Even if my body didn’t.”
His lips caress mine. “I can live with that. While I hate the idea that another man has had you, I can’t stomach the thought of anyone else owning your heart.”
“Never,” I breathe into his kiss. “That’s yours. Always has been. Always will be.”
“Always,” he repeats as he inches inside me, a moan falling from my throat. He pauses when he fills me to the hilt, not moving. Then he shudders, shivers running over him. “God, you feel even better than I remember.”
He gradually retreats before pushing back in, his motions measured and restrained. There’s no over-exaggerated breaths or cries, as was so often the case when I was with Dr. Ben. There’s no need. Asher may have perfected the craft of playing the guitar and piano, but he’s also an expert at playing me. He knows exactly where to touch me to make me cry out those high notes most musicians couldn’t even fathom reaching.
“Asher, I…” I trail off, shaking my head, this act so beautiful it brings tears to my eyes.
“I know.” His lips find mine as he slides back in, hitting that spot that drives me crazy, then retreating.
When my fingernails dig into the flesh of his back, an animalistic roar escapes his throat, pushing me to increase my rhythm against him.
“Goddamn, Izzy.” Sweat beads on his brow as he matches my pace. “I’m trying to go slow, but I—”
“Don’t. I love that I do this to you. Love that you can’t control yourself around me.” I grab his earlobe between my teeth. “Love that you have no problem showing me how much you want me. So let go,” I whisper. “I want you to come inside me.”
He pulls back, chest heaving. “I can’t do that.” A devilish glint shines in his eyes as he smirks. “Not until you come again.”
Encouraged by his own playfulness, I give him a sardonic smile. “Do you think you’re…up for the challenge?”
“Oh, baby…” He circles his hips before thrusting harshly into me, causing me to release a surprised yelp. “I think we both know I am.”
“You’re out of practice. Maybe your technique needs work.”
“Do you think my technique needs work?”
I cup his cheeks and force his lips to mine. “I fucking love your technique, baby.”
He kisses me fully as he increases his pace, his motions a mixture of reverent and desperate. “Suck,” he orders, bringing his thumb to my mouth.
Goosebumps prickle my skin at the severity in his tone. Yet I oblige, circling my tongue along his digit before wrapping my lips around it.
“Fuck, Iz. You gotta stop that or I’m going to come.”
I smile, releasing his finger. “Is that right?”
He glides his hand down my body, his thumb landing on my clit as he drives into me. My muscles clench, my lungs constrict, my pulse skyrockets.
“Harder,” I beg, and he accedes to my demand, driving with more force, his ragged breaths echoing in the room. That’s all it takes for me to shatter, my clenching muscles pushing Asher over the edge, our mutual cries and moans the perfect symphony to our reunion.
“I’ve missed this,” he says after a few minutes as we attempt to get our breathing under control.
“I’ve missed this, too.” Tilting my head, my lips find his.
“So?” He arches a brow.
“So…what?”
“Have I convinced you we can have more than the bubble yet?” He grins mischievously.
I swat at him, pushing him off me. “It’ll take more than hot sex. You should know by now that I’m incredibly stubborn.” I’m about to head to the bathroom when his arm around my stomach forces me back against him.
“And you should know by now that I love a challenge.” He playfully pulses against me.
“Is that what I am to you? A challenge?”
He peppers kisses along my shoulder blades, and I melt into him, just as addicted to him as I was last year. As I was the first time I heard him sing. “You know you’re so much more than that. But a challenge makes it fun.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Soft lips feather against my shoulder blade, and I moan, basking in the comfort of being wrapped in Asher’s arms. As promised, yesterday was
filled with a lot of sex, more than I can remember having in any previous twenty-four-hour period. It took everything I had not to lose myself in the fantasy of this being our life, of having this once we returned from the clouds.
The day wasn’t all sex, though, despite what Asher tried to convince me of the other night. To my surprise, he wrote an impressive three songs, putting onto paper the music he heard in his head, the lyrics he felt in his soul. Maybe Grams was onto something when she encouraged Jessie to invite me up here. However, I doubt they expected it to take us sleeping together again to truly inspire him.
“Where did you get this scar?” Asher asks as he brushes his thumb along my hipbone.
“According to my mom, I was born with it.”
He pushes me onto my back, peering at me with lazy eyes. I rake my fingers through his disheveled hair. I doubt I’ll ever tire of waking up next to this man, of staring into his amorous gaze first thing in the morning.
“Do you know what caused it?” He rests on his side, propping his head in one hand, tracing the tiny scar with the other.
“Not sure. Without knowing who my birth mother was, it’s impossible to say. But my guess is I was born with a lesion. Some babies are born with them on their scalp, but they can be present at birth on other parts of the body, like your limbs or torso. Could be a side effect of my birth mother taking medication for an overactive thyroid gland. Or could be due to an injury during development.”
He nods, a lone finger tracing the outline of the tiny star shape right above my hipbone. I relish in his touch. He’s not doing so as a precursor to something more. He simply caresses me because he can’t seem to stop.
“Do you know much about your birth mother?”
“Not really. Aside from a few lackluster attempts, I haven’t exactly looked, but it’s kind of hard to find someone without a name.”
He perks up, brows furrowing. “You don’t even know her name?”