His Absolute Insistence: A Scandalous Billionaire Love Story (Jessika, #2)

by du Lys, Cerys

  "Should I close my eyes?" he asked.

  I considered it for a moment. Biting my bottom lip, I nodded.

  "I'm not sure if you actually need to go get anything," he said. "If I have to keep staring at you standing there naked like that, I'm going to drag you back to bed and have you for dessert."

  Yes. That sounded good. Except, no, I wanted to show him what I made. Also, I wanted to eat it. I might have accidentally become sweet-obsessed. The other night was the cake and now it was... well, it was a surprise, sort of.

  I shook my head and waggled one finger at him. "Stay," I said. "Don't move."

  Asher rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue, pretending to pant like a dog.

  I laughed. "Good boy."

  Skipping, lighthearted, I bounded away. The bedroom door was open because neither of us had closed it, and I went into the kitchen with ease. Once there, I hurried to the cabinets and pulled out a small disposable aluminum tray of chocolate chip cookies. I didn't really make these, I got them from a roll of cookie dough, but I liked those sorts of cookies. I put the tray on the counter, then spun around to open the refrigerator. Poking through the minor amounts of food I had from Jeremy's shopping excursion, I reached for a pie tin.

  Within the pie tin lay my masterpiece. I stared at it, rapt and rather satisfied with the outcome. It looked more than decent and I wanted to eat it. I didn't actually make this from scratch, either, it came in a box with some instructions and it was a simplified version, but I hadn't had any in a long time and I longed for it. It reminded me of sex, if you could somehow place sex in your mouth and let it simmer and melt, and then swallow it, reveling in the creamy deliciousness inching down your throat and into your stomach.

  I might have been a little sex-addled. Cheesecake wasn't actually like sex in any obvious way, but I enjoyed it still. I liked this kind a lot, too. The kitchen staff would never have made it at Asher's mansion. All the ingredients came in one box and apparently that wasn't good, but I didn't know how it couldn't be. It tasted good to me. Preferably, I should have let it set overnight, but it looked fine right now. Opening one of the kitchen drawers, I fetched out the large packet of cherry pie filling. Pulling at one corner to rip it open, I drizzled the pie filling over the top of the cheesecake.

  I found two forks, stuck them into the cheesecake, picked it up with one hand, grabbed the cookies with the other, and skipped back to the bedroom. Asher sat there in all his naked glory, upper body leaning against my headboard, legs spread slightly, eyes closed.

  He wasn't erect, because we'd just finished having sex, but I briefly wondered about maybe drizzling some of the cherry pie filling over his crotch and seeing if I could fix that. Rectify it? Or... erectify. I laughed at my terrible mental joke.

  One of his eyes winked open.

  "Cheater," I said. "You said you'd close your eyes."

  "Is that cheesecake?" he asked.

  I nodded. "And cookies. Chocolate chip. I made them. Not from scratch, it's from a box and a roll of cookie dough, but I think they're good."

  Asher shrugged. "Looks great to me. Do we have plates?"

  "Nope," I said.

  I stepped close to the bed and offered him the cookie tray. He took it with one hand, snatching a cookie from it with the other. Unceremoniously, he bit into the cookie and sighed.

  "Wow," he said. "These are good."

  "They're alright?" I asked, moving to the other side of the bed. "I know they aren't homemade, but sometimes I think it's good to just have cookies from a roll. I don't think they're bad."

  "They're great," he said, stuffing his mouth with more cookie. He chewed and chewed, then swallowed, and grabbed another cookie.

  "Asher, we have cheesecake, too. Don't fill up on cookies," I said.

  "We don't have plates," he said, sending cookie crumbs onto my bed.

  "Asher!" I laughed and whacked his bare chest with the back of my hand. "You're making a mess."

  He finished chewing and swallowing before saying, "Sorry."

  "Here." I grabbed one of the forks and handed it to him.

  He took it. Raising one brow, he looked at it, then me. "Hm?"

  "We're just going to eat it like this together. No plates."

  "You're yelling at me for cookie crumbs in the bed and now we're going to eat cheesecake straight from a pie tin?"

  I nodded. "Just don't make a mess."

  He shrugged, somewhat agreeing. Poking his fork into the cheesecake, he pulled out a creamy hunk, then brought it to his lips. Savoring it for a fraction of a second, sighing deeply, he swallowed fast after that then went for more. I barely had one bite before he had three.

  "Hey!" I said, pulling the pie tin away from him. "Save some for me. You aren't even sharing the cookies. I can't believe this."

  "Do you want a cookie?" he asked, offering me the tray.

  "Yes," I said, taking one.

  We ate like that, side by side, sharing cookies and cheesecake. Maybe they didn't exactly go well together, but they both tasted good, so why not? I tried not to make a mess, and mostly I didn't. Asher didn't either. That went well up until I accidentally dropped some of my cheesecake. It landed on my chest, resting partly on my upper left breast, slowly inching lower with each passing second.

  Asher gently took the cheesecake tin from me and put it on my bedside table. I let him do it, but I stared at him after, too.

  "I'm not sure if I'm done with that," I said.

  He put the cookies aside, as well.

  "I don't know if I'm done with those, either," I added.

  He grinned at me, devilish, and moved to straddle me. I watched him, intrigued. His hands grabbed my hips and pulled lightly, sending me sliding down the bed. Like a wildcat, he tensed and moved, prowling atop me. His head bent low, face moving towards my breast. His tongue, slick and desirous, snuck out from between his lips and lapped at the accidental remnants of cheesecake. By that time, the cheesecake piece had fallen closer to my nipple, though not entirely.

  Asher didn't care, though. It was close enough. His tongue glazed over my breast, dancing towards the peak of my nipple, and he slipped and slid around it.

  Mmm. I let out a quiet moan. This was nice. Dessert and more dessert, a different kind.

  Asher reached for my breast with one hand, lifting it up. His tongue and his mouth did delicious things to my nipple, lapping and teasing, caressing side to side, then around, over and over. Tantalizing teeth nipped at the sensitive bud topping my breast and he flicked his tongue across the tip. I squirmed beneath him.

  While he tormented my breast, I touched the side of his cheeks and the back of his head, down to his neck. My hands slowly traced lower, to his shoulders, then lower still, caressing his side. I careened towards his chest, feeling his pecs and then his abdomen. He moved to my other breast, my other nipple, but one of his hands stayed with the one he left behind. His finger and thumb pinched and tweaked at my sensitive nub, squeezing it lightly, then harder, then more, too much for a brief second but then back to lightness. It made me squirm and ache, lost in quickening arousal. My hands nearly forgot their goal, but I somehow forced myself to remember.

  They moved lower, inching to his waist, then to the center, a little lower still. His cock, yes. He was hard now, erect and ready just for me. I teased and touched at the shaft, stroking him with just my nails and my fingertips, feeling him twitch and bob. One of my fingers touched at the slickness of his cockhead and his precum. I couldn't see him—he blocked my view with his head in my way and his mouth on my nipple—but I felt him and it felt nice.

  "Asher," I said, whispering.

  "Mhm?" he asked, not bothering to remove my nipple from his mouth.

  "I... I saw something today. Can I show you it?"

  He sucked hard, pulling my firm nipple and some of my breast into his mouth, then he pulled away, grinning. My nipple popped out of his mouth, first wet and warm, then cold and yearning. "Can it wait a little while?" he asked.

&
nbsp; It could, but... maybe not. I was curious, in a strange sort of way. I felt like Elise almost, or how I imagined Elise feeling. She seemed so bold sometimes, yet oddly innocent and inquisitive, too.

  Before I changed my mind, I escaped from beneath him and rolled off the bed. Scampering, surefooted, I rushed to my computer and pushed the power button. It began starting up. Slowly. It seemed slow earlier, but not this slow. Arousal and wanting might have been a part of that; they seemed to bring time to a stop, or even push it backwards, rewound.

  Asher came to join me. I sat in the computer chair, and he pushed it to the side and sat between my legs. While I kept looking from him to the computer screen and then back to him, he looked only at me. His hands grabbed my thighs and pulled them apart, then he dove between my legs.

  Squeaking, some startled gasp, I clamped my thighs shut as soon as Asher's tongue and mouth latched onto my sex. He licked across the outermost part of my labia, his tongue tracing every delicate curve, then up and over, moving to the other side. His hands held my legs apart, no matter how much I struggled and clenched. The old office chair I sat in rolled slightly side to side, matching the trembling of my body.

  "Asher, I..."

  He ignored me in favor of my body. The computer started up and I grabbed the mouse, practically destroying it with my hardened grip. Slow, deliberate, I opened a browser, went to Google, typed something in, clicked, and... there it was.

  "Asher, I just..." I didn't really know. Maybe this was a bad idea. I'd liked it before, though. I couldn't really do anything then, but now I could. It felt... wrong? Naughty? More than a little dirty, to be honest. This was not a thing that people did, at least not respectable people, not married people, not a man who owned a billion dollar company and his wife who was trying to become a popular writer.

  Oh well. I did it anyways.

  He looked up and saw the computer screen. The image therein was currently frozen, but I clicked something to unpause it, and it began.

  It was us. Grainy and a little gritty, not the highest quality, but it was me and Asher and our sex tape.

  "Is that...?" he asked.

  "Um..." I said. "I was just curious earlier, so I looked, and there it was."

  "Oh," he said, staring at us—our image. "I can definitely tell that's us. The quality isn't that great, though. They've really lowered the resolution a lot. My camera should have recorded it in 1080p, but this looks like 480."

  That meant something, but I didn't really know what, except lower quality?

  "I saw it earlier," I said. "And..."

  He watched us moving in the throes of passion on the screen for a moment longer, then looked at me. "And?"

  "I'm still mad," I said. "I'm still nervous and scared, but it's just here and it was just me and now it's just us. This feels so weird, but it's kind of exciting. I don't think I'm supposed to think that."

  "You like it?" he asked. His fingers grazed up my thigh towards the center of my body.

  "You can't really tell it's us, right?" I asked. "We can tell, but we can still deny it, can't we? If we want to do that?"

  He nodded. His fingers moved up more, now resting between my thighs. He touched against my anxious arousal, one fingertip grazing across the hood of my clit. I jumped slightly, excited and surprised.

  "It's... it's just kind of exhilarating," I said. One of his fingers distracted me by pressing into my slit. "It's sexy, Asher. I always thought those pictures and the videos you took were sexy. But now it's..." He pressed in further, probing my arousal. "It's strange," I said. "I don't like it, but I kind of do. It's like when you know you shouldn't do something, but you want to do it anyways, and you get excited, and..."

  Two fingers now, pressing into me. Asher's mouth moved to my nipple without me noticing. I was too distracted, too caught up in the situation. This was... yes. This was not good. It was probably very bad. Everything that happened, everything I needed to deal with, and everything Asher would need to go through, too. We'd do it together. Later. Soon, but not now. Now was just for us. We were the only two people in the room, in my apartment. To me, we were the only two people in the entire world and we were together.

  Right now we were alone, safe in a place that I felt comfortable, and because of that I felt like I could let my guard down a little, too. I didn't need to protect myself from Asher, and Asher would protect me from everything else. So, yes, while the idea of our naked pictures and sex tape being available everywhere and on the internet made my stomach tie up in nervous knots of grief, right now it also kind of aroused me.

  Maybe that was bad. I didn't know if that was bad. I wanted to get rid of the pictures. I wanted to deny their existence. I couldn't, though. They were me. I would get rid of them somehow, and I'd do it with Asher, but they were Asher, too. They were what he saw, and he saw me at my most beautiful. He captured our moment. He made me more real somehow, more me. I loved him.

  This was the weirdest thing I'd ever done or thought to do, but I loved it in a different sort of way.

  The video continued playing and Asher continued fingering me and sucking on my nipple. I looked down at him, glad for his acceptance even if maybe sometimes I was a little screwed up. Then I turned to the side and saw myself and Asher on the computer screen. He had his cock inside of me, pressed in deep, and he inched out of me slowly, then thrust hard back in.

  As he did it on the screen, he did it between my thighs, also. Not with his delightfully throbbing cock, but with two fingers. His eyes watched me, but he watched me looking at the computer, too, and he repeated everything he saw and everything we'd done.

  It was strange. It was odd and embarrassing, but in a sexy, exciting way. I shouldn't be aroused. The fact that I shouldn't be aroused made me more aroused. I gripped at the armrests of the chair with my hands while my core and my body and my inner walls gripped hard at his finger.

  The video wasn't that long. It was short. It was ending. Soon. Yes, soon. I would end. This was fast. It was quick.

  Something surged through me and my orgasm rushed into me, some giddy wave of riled up anxiety, fear, pleasure, passion, and disconcerted jitters. My stomach hurt, filled with fluttering butterflies, and my heart skipped a beat, nervous, but my body pounded and Asher kept me safe. He loved me, adored me, was here, now, just with me. He...

  I lost myself. The video stopped, all sound and movement ceasing on the screen, but I made up for it with my own writhing, thrashing body and my lust-induced moans and heavy breathing. I grabbed Asher's forearm and wrist, one hand for each. I didn't know why. I just squeezed him there hard, feeling his hand move in and out, fingers pumping into me. With his mouth on my nipple, he sucked and bit lightly, but then he stopped and smothered my mouth with his. He moved from the ground to higher, kissing me, fingers still in me.

  I didn't know what was going on, I couldn't think. I couldn't... I didn't know what I couldn't do, I just couldn't do it.

  He curled his fingers, practically pulling at my inner depths, coaxing my orgasm to its natural peaking climax. I let him, giving in to him, feeling a rush of heady sensation filling me. Love, fear, anxiety, pain, pleasure, ecstasy, a little bit of worry covered with an overload of happiness. I was this, I was all of it, every single one of these emotions. The bad made the good better; it showed me that there was good—so much of it—even if sometimes there was bad, too.

  It was very odd, but amazing.

  I languished in the chair, still kissing Asher long after my orgasm settled into a light, arousing simmer.

  He smiled at me. "Can you play the video again?" he asked. "I want to try something."

  Lazy, barely thinking, I reached for the mouse and clicked to repeat the video. It restarted from the beginning. I saw Asher's hand on me, smoothing up and down my thigh before toying with my sex.

  The Asher on the screen teased at my arousal, while the Asher in front of me lifted me from the chair. With a minor murmur of protest, I went. He shifted me around, setting my knees on
the seat and my hands on the top of the desk. I scrunched up my brow, confused, but I didn't get to stay that way for too long.

  Asher grabbed my hips to steady me. In front of me, I saw the old video of us, with him pressing the head of his cock just barely between my folds. Behind me, he did the same, nestling his manhood slightly inside of me. When the Asher on the screen thrust hard into me, the one behind me did the same.

  Wow, I... it was definitely strange. And exciting. This was bad and wrong and fuck, it was good. Great. Amazing.

  The video wasn't long. Asher kept pace with himself, repeating his every move. I watched him, and I also felt him. The video wasn't long, and eventually it stopped, but Asher didn't stop. He redoubled his efforts, going faster now. He slammed into me, his balls slapping at the backs of my thighs. My palms and my fingertips pressed hard against the desk. So hard that part of the underside of my nails turned white while the other part blazed a harsh red. I stared at my hands, caught up in the shift of color in my nails every time I tensed and pressed against the desk. The sight enthralled me. I wanted to paint my nails like that to remember it forever; a ragged white line across the tips and red for the rest.

  I was up, standing, stolen away from the desk. Asher pulled me off the chair, holding tight to my hips, and guided me towards the bed. Slow, we made our way there, little step after little step. Each step I took, each time I moved even a small amount away from him, he slammed hard into me, closing the gap between us once more with a hard thrust. I gasped, confused and distracted, trying to move as he wished but wanting to savor the feel of him inside me and his hands on me, too.

  He kept one hand on my stomach, his elbow curved around my side. The other hand pressed against my breasts, forearm squeezing tight against my chest while his palm and fingers cupped and groped every inch of my sex-sensitive flesh. We were at the bed, standing on the edge. The tops of my thighs touched the side of the bed. No more tiny little steps; I had nowhere else to go but here.

  Asher guided me. He dug deep inside of me, keeping himself firmly in place. My fervent desire held him even tighter, my inner walls clenching against him. Asher's hand moved from my stomach, to my clit, teasing and tormenting me with fierce passion, then lower again, to my thigh, my leg, my knee. He pulled, lifting my leg up, helping me move to kneel onto the bed. Once I gained my balance, my other leg moved up of its own accord. I scooted forward, crawling across the sheets, and Asher followed me, never leaving me, always inside me.