Asher

by Jo Raven

  But she reaches behind and unclasps her bra, tugs off the straps and lets her beautiful breasts spill out.

  My mouth is dry as the desert. Shit. I have to focus on her. This isn’t about me. I want to give, not take for once. Show her she comes first.

  Make her come first.

  “I’m going to taste you now,” I say and she whimpers, her legs shaking. “Lie back, on your elbows.”

  I plan on making her scream with pleasure.

  Chapter Eleven

  Audrey

  Ash’s blue eyes nail me, dark with arousal. He can’t seem to catch his breath, and his finger keeps stroking me where I burn with need.

  It’s Ash. Ash, with his square jaw and soft mouth, his shiny dark hair tousled and silky¸ his shoulders wide and muscled.

  I need him. I’m nearly going mad with desire. I burn and shiver and my whole body is one heartbeat, from the top of my head, to my breasts, all the way low in my belly.

  And he looks at me like he knows—he’s fully aware of what he’s doing to me, how I want him. Flashing me a confident grin, he lets his gaze roll over my naked body, lingering on my breasts until I’m about to scream with frustration.

  “Please,” I murmur. I remember how he licked them and sucked on them, and the memory’s enough to turn the heat up.

  His finger flicks over my clit and I gasp, my legs opening wider. I want him inside me.

  But he’s still fully dressed and although his erection bulges, he doesn’t seem inclined to undress. And before I can ask him to, beg if I have to, he drags a chair closer, sits and places both of his hands on my inner thighs, spreading me.

  It’s an odd feeling—the cool air hitting my most private, throbbing parts—but then his tongue laps at me, rough and hot.

  Undoing me.

  I fall back on my elbows, my breasts tingling, ripples of pleasure shooting up from where he’s holding me and torturing me so perfectly. I moan, needing more.

  And he gives me more. His fingers slide inside my core, pressing and stroking, and I can’t stop the cry building up in my throat. I’m so close.

  He looks up at me and presses his mouth more firmly, eating me up, as his fingers fuck me harder.

  “Ash!” I shudder and shake as lightning pleasure goes through me, waves and waves of it, hitting me one after the other, shattering me. I sob for breath, and he still licks at me, still touches me, prolonging my orgasm, wringing every last drop of it, until I fall back on the table, limp and drained.

  I wanted him inside me, but god this was mind-blowing. My body sings with pleasure, and my every muscle is lax and heavy.

  Arms slip under my back, under my knees, lifting me. No energy is left in me. I wrap an arm around Ash’s neck and let him do what he pleases with me.

  Boy likes carrying me. I could get used to that. Could get used to his deep smell, the warmth of his skin, the feel of his strong muscles, the way tendons bulge on the side of his neck.

  “Auds...” he whispers.

  Yeah, I could also easily get used to the way he speaks my name, low and full of desire.

  He sits down on the sofa, on the sheets where he sleeps, keeping me on his lap. He holds me, his arms like steel around me, his face buried in my hair. He’s still fully hard; I can feel his erection against my leg.

  “I’m sorry,” he says against my skin.

  “What for?” My body feels liquid, draped all over him.

  “Ignoring you back in school after we kissed.”

  I nod. I still don’t really get it. He went through some rough times, I know that now, but still... “It’s all right.”

  “No, it’s not. I screwed up.”

  “It’s okay,” I say. “I understand.”

  “No,” he says, “you don’t.” His heart booms. Whatever he’s about to say is hard for him. “Dad knew I liked you. He said he’d go talk to you, tell you what a fuck-up I am. God, Auds, the thought of him coming anywhere near you...” He presses his lips together.

  Oh dear god. His dad is such an asshole. “I’m so sorry,” I say. “And you’re here now.” I thread my arms around his neck. “We’re here. We’ll be fine.”

  He sighs, cradles me closer. Then his hand drifts down my arm and moves to my breast, lightly touching. Making me throb with need again.

  He lowers me until I sit on the sofa and leans over me, his mouth closing over mine, his tongue teasing my lips.

  Oh god, this is crazy. I came by to show him my scars, to let him know it worked. Showing me his scars made me trust him again. It also gave me a glimpse into his life and made me understand him more. It’s a step in the right direction, and I wanted to let him know that.

  The transition from that part to this is blurry. One moment I’m showing him my ugly scars, and the next he’s going down on me—and now he’s doing it again.

  Driving me insane with need. For him.

  My hands fumble with his shirt and I manage to snag the hem and tug. This time he helps me, grabbing it and tearing it off.

  Jeez, this boy’s chest should be illegal. My hands smooth over his six pack, his firm pecs, the grooves at his hips. His hardness presses between my legs and his lashes flutter against his cheekbones.

  “Wait,” I say.

  He glances at me under his lowered lashes. His chest rises and falls rapidly. “God, Auds. I’ll stop if you ask me to, but I don’t want to.”

  I sit up, push him back against the cushions. He lets me, sighing, a look of sadness stealing over his features.

  Kneeling at his feet, I unbutton his jeans and tug them down. His eyes grow heavy-lidded, pale blue swallowed by black; his pupils blown huge with desire.

  Pulling his boots and socks off, I take off his jeans and look up at him. He wears black briefs. He’s so hard, the head of his cock is peeking over the elastic, and he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s staring at me, his hands clenched by his sides, as if afraid to make a wrong movement and scare me away.

  Taking a moment to enjoy the sight—his handsome face, his awesome body—I place my hands on top of his muscular thighs and reach for his briefs.

  Tit for tat. His breathing hitches when I pull the briefs down, freeing his erection so that it bumps against his belly.

  “Fuck,” he hisses. His cock is thick and long. Powerful like the rest of him.

  He groans when I wrap my fingers around the base and rise on my knees. His eyes dip from my face to my breasts and then down to my hand on him.

  Then I bend over him and the movement seems to snap him from his trance.

  “Auds, no.” He puts a hand on my shoulder, gently pushing me backward. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I want to,” I say, holding his gaze. “I’ve imagined doing it.”

  His eyes widen, then, and he stops pushing me away. His fingers dig into my shoulder.

  I don’t have much experience with this. All this. A little known fact, even to Tessa, is that although I’ve had two boyfriends since I moved to Chicago, I’ve barely gone past first base.

  Which is probably also the reason they didn’t last long. That, and the fact my boyfriends were bastards, as Tessa often likes to point out.

  But deep in my heart, I know the real reason those relationships didn’t last: it’s Ash I’ve always wanted. Surrogates just can’t cut it.

  I take him into my mouth, loving how he moans and tangles his fingers in my hair; how he trembles and throws his head back. He tastes salty and sweet, with a hint of bitterness.

  When I tighten my fingers around him, when I firm my lips around his girth, when I suck—he pants and groans and tugs lightly on my hair. He’s fascinating.

  His eyes fall shut and his teeth grind together when I take him deeper. His face twists in a grimace that looks like pain, but his hips roll once, twice, and I know he likes what I’m doing to him. A lot.

  It makes me feel good. Makes me feel powerful—like he needs me as much as I need him. I can make him crazy with lust, give him such pleasure he gets l
ost in it and doesn’t realize he’s pushing my head down to take more of him.

  I can’t. Have no idea how, he’s so big.

  He opens his eyes when I pull back, looking so confused it’s cute.

  And embarrassing. There goes my sense of power and sexy sassiness.

  Concern crosses his features. “It’s okay,” he rasps. “Come here.”

  I lick my lips and climb up the sofa, settling next to him. He draws me to his chest, an arm around my shoulders. A corner of his mouth lifts.

  “You all right?” he asks, his voice husky.

  It sends shivers all over me. “Yeah.”

  “That felt so good.” His eyes are pale blue slits, and his lips stretch into a full grin. “So fucking good.”

  I laugh, smothering the sound against his shoulder. “I was that good, huh?”

  “You’re amazing,” he says, his voice suddenly serious.

  “You didn’t come, though.”

  He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”

  I look down at his erection. It’s rock hard, the head purple, and liquid drips from the small slit. It’s hot. Sexy. Makes my skin burn with desire.

  As I watch, his cock twitches.

  “If you keep looking at it like that, you’ll finish me,” he breathes, his voice catching.

  “Really?”

  He chuckles. “Wanna see?”

  I put my hand down, trail a finger up his length. He shudders and more liquid seeps out.

  “Yeah,” I say and close my hand around him. “I wanna see.”

  He grunts. “Every time you’re near me I get hard,” he whispers. “Just thinking of you, looking at you, smelling you. The sound of your name makes me hard.”

  I bite my lip. My face heats up.

  “What do you want?” he whispers.

  “I want to see you come.” It’s the truth, but I’m amazed the words come out of my mouth. I didn’t mean them to. My face grows hotter.

  “God, I love it when you talk dirty.” He swallows, the knot in his throat moving. He places his larger hand over mine.

  “Show me how,” I say.

  “Fuck, Auds.” His hand presses over mine and starts moving up and down. “Like this.”

  “You like this?”

  “It feels so good.” His voice slurs, and I feel his cock swell more under my hand. “You feel so good.”

  “I want you,” I say, pressing my mouth to his. I kiss him and he moans in my mouth. I pull back. “I want to feel you inside me.”

  “Oh fuck...” He bends forward, his stomach muscles clenching, and his cock jerks. Ropes of white semen hit his chest, all the way up to his chin. His arm around me tightens, and he gasps my name.

  He’s so gorgeous as he comes, his sinewy body tensing, every muscle leaping into stark relief, his strong legs quivering—surrendering to desire, giving in to his body. Great shudders go through him, forcing whimpers from his throat.

  The expression on his face, the surprise, the pleasure, the relief—that’s one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen.

  Chapter Twelve

  Asher

  Holy fuck, this girl killed me. Literally.

  Not that I mind. It’s a beautiful death. I can barely move. I’m a puddle of pleasure on the couch, desperately trying to catch my breath. Her small hand is still wrapped around my softening junk, and I have my hand on top of hers, keeping it there.

  Maybe I should move my hand, allow her to release me before I start hardening again like a twelve-year-old. Her proximity can do this to me—and she’s still naked, all her luscious curves pressed against me, her pretty round tits with their rosy nipples almost in my face.

  Come on. I can’t get hard so fast after this orgasm wiped me out, can I?

  Pressure’s building again in my balls. Shit. Maybe I really can.

  Down, boy. I’ll scare her. It’s unbelievable she’s still there. I don’t want to jinx it.

  “You’re all sticky,” she says.

  I snort. Sticky and gross, cum cooling all over my chest. “I need a shower. You, too.”

  I pull her up with me and she comes gamely along, laughing quietly. Dizzy with happiness—the girl of my dreams is in my arms, naked and laughing—I drag her into the bathroom and start the hot water running.

  She giggles when I draw her under the warm spray and she runs her hands over my chest, washing off the stickiness. I love the sound of her laughter. Her smile. Her shining eyes. Her wet skin, so smooth and perfect against mine.

  Her scars. Her past and her sorrow. The whole of her.

  Shit, I’m falling hard. Or maybe I already did, long ago. I’m addicted to her and there’s no hiding from it anymore.

  Hell. This is scary as fuck. Naked or not, I feel cut open and bared to her, feel as if she can see right through me, as my thoughts are written all over my face.

  And speaking of naked...

  My thoughts flow out of my head when she presses herself to me. Her breasts are soft, their tips hard, and we fit together as if she’s made for me—warm and curvy, her face underneath mine so I only have to dip my chin to kiss her cute little nose. Then I bend lower to kiss her mouth and she shifts, her hands moving to my back, bringing us closer.

  I gasp when my dick is trapped between our bodies. Christ, I can’t believe I’m hard again already.

  She smiles, tilting her head to the side, her red curls bouncing. So pretty. So sexy. I need her so badly.

  God, this girl will be the death of me. I’m in love with her rosy nipples, her lush lips, her wide eyes. Everything about her is perfect.

  I kiss her, eat her up, smooth my hands over her every curve. I dip my fingers between her legs, making her moan and writhe. I lift my other hand to her breasts, massaging one nipple, then the other, and she bends back to let me.

  It’s heaven and hell. I’m touching her like I’ve always dreamed I would, and she’s making those sexy little noises, keening and moaning—but my dick is fit to burst and I have no condoms. I need to bury myself inside of her, but no way am I doing it without protection.

  So instead I focus on her, rubbing her nub, dipping my fingers inside her heat, bending down to suckle on her breast, until I feel her come apart. She cries out, shaking against me, her hands scrabbling up my back, and I hold her as she rides her waves of pleasure.

  Totally addicted. I’m fucking nuts for her.

  I grab her wrists, lift her hands over her head and nudge her with my body backward, until she fetches up against the shower wall. I hold her hands up there, watch her chest rise and fall. Lust mingles with a speck of fear in her eyes, and I groan with need, my dick twitching. My grip on her wrists tightens, and she moans.

  It sounds like she’s in pain.

  Cold panic wells inside me. Christ, did I hurt her? I let go of her hands and step back. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

  “Ash?” Her voice is small.

  “Are you okay?” My chest feels too tight. “I haven’t hurt you, have I? I’m—”

  “Ash.” Stronger now. Her hands catch my face, turn it toward her. Her eyes are dark with something I can’t name. I think she looks sad. “Listen to me.”

  I nod.

  “You haven’t hurt me at all. I would’ve said something if you did. I promise you that, okay?”

  I nod again. Shoving a hand through my hair, I step out of the shower stall and grab a towel, holding it out for her. She lets me wrap her in it, biting her lip. It makes me want to pick up where we left off, but panic still threatens at the edge of my reason. I need a moment.

  Fucked-up timing.

  Or is it? Would I scare her more if I continued? Jesus. I’m driving myself up the fucking wall with my doubts.

  She stands with her long hair dripping, a question in her eyes, and I don’t know how to fucking answer it. Yeah, I’m a fuck-up. But I’d never hurt her. Not on purpose.

  I’m not what she expected me to be. I hope I’m not. I’m not my father.

  “I know you’re not,” s
he says quietly.

  Fuck, I said it out loud.

  I grab another towel from the rack and dry my head roughly. Yeah, I really need a moment. I’ve lost every scrap of control I thought I had. The hard-earned lessons, my hard decisions, they’re all crumbling around me.

  I want this girl like nothing else in the world—not just her perfect body, but her arms around me, her softly spoken words of comfort. The feeling I have when I’m with her.

  That I’ve been alone in the world without her. That I’ve come back home.

  And that’s the problem. Because it’s an illusion I can’t afford. I haven’t hurt her yet, but I’ll do so soon, one way or another.

  ***

  “Ash?”

  “Hm?” I stop in the act of pulling my jeans back on.

  “What’s on your mind?” she asks softly.

  The truth? That for so long I’ve felt empty inside. That she’s always held my heart. That I’m not what she needs.

  “I have something I need to do tonight,” I say.

  I don’t want to see her face, but she sighs, and I look up. Disappointment. She probably wanted me to say something good after fooling around with her, maybe ask her to stay the night with me, and there’s nothing I’d have liked more.

  But I can’t.

  “That’s fine. I’ve got stuff to do, too,” she says and I have to look away. She’s putting on a brave front, but I can see the pain in her eyes.

  She’ll be okay. We haven’t even fucked.

  Seriously, Ash?

  I rake my fingers through my hair and tug, hard. I’m doing the one thing I hate: I’m hurting her.

  “Ash...” She walks over to me. She’s dressed. What a shame. “Don’t shut me out again.”

  I shake my head. Don’t wanna lie. If I’m shutting her out, it’s because I have to. “My life isn’t like yours, Auds.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Damn. I pull on a T-shirt, but still don’t meet her gaze. I can’t. I don’t even know where to start, how to explain. “Never mind. I just need to work some things out.”