by Olivia Chase
My pussy instantly got wet. Surprised how much I liked the way it felt.
God, did I.
I want more.
Asher’s eyes are glowing coals, the pupils huge, and there’s a wicked grin on his face. He looks sinister, and so help me God, I want him so badly I could scream. My entire body is shaking for him.
I stay in place as he stalks around me, a panther studying his prey. My nipples are so hard they’re throbbing, and my panties are soaked already.
His big hands reach behind me at the top of my tank top, and he tugs hard. The thin fabric stretches until it reaches the point of no return, and then there’s a huge rip as he tears it off me.
Asher clamps his teeth on my bare shoulder, his other hand cupping the side of my face, his body firmly pressed behind me. “I want to tear you apart, Whitney.”
“Yes,” I say, savoring the heat pouring off him. I would give him anything he wanted right now.
He digs his teeth into my shoulder, and pain flares and shoots through me. I groan, and the sound turns higher, louder when the pain increases. He pulls off, moves his teeth to my neck and bites me there.
I shake with desire, my pulse throbbing everywhere, my pussy tight and wet and swollen. I want his hands on me.
Asher licks and sucks and bites my flesh on my upper arm, moving to my front and feasting on my breasts. The tension in me swirls tighter. Everywhere his teeth go, pain flares and then fades to a strong warmth.
I’ve never felt this way before.
I stay in place, not moving, letting him take me the way he wants.
“Kitten,” he says, straightening. His eyes bore into mine. “I’m going to take you in my room now.” He grabs me and flings me over my shoulder, making me gasp. I fumble to grip his waist as I bounce on him—he carries me like I weigh nothing. Opens the door into blackness, then flicks on a small light.
Tosses me onto the bed. My bra is still around my torso.
“You’d better take that stuff off or I’ll rip it all to shreds,” he warns me. “You have five seconds.”
I scramble to undress. I’m filled with anticipation, drenched for Asher, aching for him. My entire body feels like a raw nerve. This Asher is dark, sexy, compelling.
I get my shorts off, and I’m fumbling with my bra when he says, “Time’s up.” Then his hands are on me and he’s ripping these panties off too, the fabric’s renting filling the air between us. “I’m building quite the collection,” he murmurs, lifting the crotch of the panties to his nose, breathing in.
I could come just watching him do that. The way he looks like he enjoys my smell…it’s heady. “Oh God,” I whisper.
Asher drops the underwear and I finish with my bra and fling it aside. Then he’s on me, lifting my hands above my head. He wraps something around my wrists and ties them together. “Don’t move.” He rises from the bed and digs into his closet, grabbing several ties.
Asher pushes my knees up so my calves are resting against the backs of my thighs, then winds the ties around my legs, binding them, my heels pressed into the bed. My pussy is exposed to him. He loops another tie around my mouth, between my teeth, and ties it behind my head.
“You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re open for me,” he says, running his fingers up and down my soaking slit.
I groan, the sound muffled.
“Now you can scream all you want, kitten, and no one will hear you.” He gets that devilish look in his eyes as he eyes my pussy. “I’m going to make you come for me again and again until your cunt is sore. And then I’m going to fuck you.”
My legs and arms have a delicious ache from being bound. I feel dirty and hot all over.
Asher moves until he’s resting between my legs, my hard nipples rubbing his chest. He brushes his lips over my opened mouth, then draws my lower lip between his teeth. Bites.
I moan and arch under him.
“Fuck yes, you want this so bad,” he says. His hand digs into my hip, then moves to stroke my pussy. Pleasure swirls from my clit outward. “Such a wicked girl, tied up and unable to escape me.” The words are delivered in a low tone of warning. Asher thrusts a finger inside me, and I gasp. Another finger joins it, stroking, curled up to hit my G-spot.
Being tied up this way, giving myself to him…it’s making me feel drunk without ever having a sip of alcohol. My body feels heavy and throbbing. The places he bit me are still warm and aching. The tie in my mouth reminds me that I’m subjected to whatever he wants of me right now.
Asher pauses, and then while two fingers are in my pussy, another strokes my back entrance. I freeze on instinct and stiffen. “You have to stay relaxed. Trust me. Let me in.”
It’s hard, because I’m scared. I’ve never been touched there before. But I will my body to unclench.
He bends down to my nipple and sucks the rigid tip into his mouth. Suckles. The nerves shoot straight to my clit, and I throb and moan. Then he slides a finger into my ass, continuing to lick and pleasure my nipple, his other fingers fucking my pussy.
I feel pleasure and pain mingling in so many places that my brain can’t keep up. I sink into the pain, accept it, and my orgasm starts to build.
“God, yes,” he murmurs against my breast. “Give me that fucking come.” He moves to pleasure my other nipple, biting the very tip between his teeth. Intense pain daggers through my breast, then I’m flooded with heat. I’m shaking all over while he fucks me, bites me, his other hand gripping me hard, fingers digging into my sides. I’m going to be bruised and sore tomorrow. Just like he promised.
The orgasm slams into me and I scream and scream, the sound gagged by the tie in my mouth. I can’t breathe—all I can do is let it overtake me. My pussy and ass are spasming around his thrusting fingers.
“Fuck, yes, holy shit,” Asher says, reaching up to take my mouth in a kiss. “God, that’s insanely hot.”
The orgasm starts to fade, but he doesn’t stop. I’m sensitive, swollen, and he increases his speed, then moves his fingers until two of them are thrusting into my ass. I can barely breathe when his mouth drops down to draw my clit between his lips.
He sucks at my wetness, and I feel another orgasm coming, this one different than the last. It’s dirty and heavy and coming from my ass, and I start bucking against his hand.
“Wicked slutty kitten wants to come for me,” he purrs against my pussy.
The orgasm comes to me in a pulsing wave that throbs in my whole body. I moan loudly, limbs tight, struggling against the bonds on instinct. I want to touch him, wrap my legs around him, bury my fingers in his hair.
Asher fucks my ass with his fingers until the orgasm finally fades. I sag against the bed, gasp for breath. My body is heavy and tired, and my pussy aches. I can’t believe I’ve come twice, I’m fully naked, bound in his bed, and he is still dressed.
He gets up, leaves the bedroom, and from the adjacent bathroom I hear the faucet running. Then he comes back in and strips his clothes off, finally. His cock bounces when it’s freed, and it’s hard and delicious.
I want to lick it so badly. I want this gag out of my mouth so I can taste him.
He catches me staring at his dick. “You hungry for me, Whitney?” His hand palms it and he begins to stroke. I can see precome on the tip. I ache to feel it on my mouth, to know what it’s like to have a cock filling my throat. “I want to fuck your mouth so badly,” he says, like he’s read my mind. “But I need to bury myself deep in that sopping-wet pussy.”
Asher bends down and grabs a condom, rolls it on. Crawls back on the bed and settles between my legs.
He reaches up and unties the gag in my mouth. “You have to be quiet, or I’m going to put this back in. Do you understand?”
I flex my jaw and then say, “Yes.”
“Such a good girl.” A sudden flicker of emotion fills his eyes as he strokes my hair and stares down at me. Something knits between us in this moment, more than just fucking. Something deeper, more intimate. My heart throbs in respons
e and when he takes my mouth with his, I feel my pussy gushing again.
Then Asher pushes that beautiful cock inside me, and my moan is lost in his mouth. He rests on one forearm, the other hand stroking my breast, and pumps his cock in me. His fingers squeeze my tender flesh, and it hurts but I love it. Want more. I want him to bite me again, to know that when I look at myself in the mirror tomorrow, or for the next week, signs of him are all over me.
“Harder,” I beg him. I sound wanton, and I don’t care. I just need him to take me.
My words spur him on. Asher’s hands grow more forceful as he powers into me, his cock ramming against the sensitive lining of my pussy. I drop my knees to let him in deeper, and he groans his approval.
Soon, sweat is slicking both of our bodies. We’re gasping in rhythm to his pumping. I press my bound legs against his sides in an effort to draw him closer.
Soon his movements become erratic. He’s panting against me. He reaches up and fumbles at the fabric around my wrists, freeing them.
I groan in pleasure at the sudden liberation and wrap my arms around him, dig my fingers into his shoulders.
“Harder,” he grunts. His eyes remain fixed on mine.
I press my nails into his back, watching his reactions, then scrape along his shoulder blades. He shudders and stiffens, and then with a jerk, he cries out, “Fuck, Whitney, yes!”
I can feel his cock pulsing in me, and I grip him as close as I can, keep my nails buried in his skin. He comes for what feels like forever. “Yes, yes,” I coax him. “I want it all. Give it to me, Asher. Please, please.”
When he finishes, he collapses on top of me, and I reach one hand up to stroke his hair. The anger seems to be gone now, and left in its place is someone who’s spent everything.
We stay like that for a while, and then he lifts up and removes the ties from my legs. Rubs the stiff and sore limbs to get blood flowing better. Removes the condom and disposes of it, then comes back to bed.
Nothing is said for several minutes. We both just breathe, our sweat-slick bodies pressed together, limbs tangled. I feel tired and heavy and satisfied and something else. Something heavier throbs in my heart.
I know what it is, and it scares me. Because the L-word is such a big thing when I still have no idea what the hell we are.
Asher was rough, yes. But I still saw more behind his eyes when he looked at me. Deeper emotion.
“I don’t know what to think,” Asher murmurs against my shoulder.
I don’t move, try to stay still. “I can’t imagine.”
“I have no memories of her at all. Jax and Smith, they at least remember something, even if it’s small. But she’s a stranger to me, and for my entire life, I’ve thought she was dead.”
“Where was she?” Brooklyn didn’t divulge that information when she told me that the Beckett brothers’ mom returned to Rock Bridge.
With a sigh, Asher fills me in on the story. A lump in my throat keeps me from commenting as he explains her prison sentence. “And now she’s back here and she wants to have a relationship with us.”
I hear the weight of his heart in his words, and my own heart aches for him. I roll to my side and stroke his hair. He curls against me, and something in my chest shatters. I think it’s the last of my reservation about Asher. “So you don’t want to have a relationship with her?”
“How can I?” He sounds genuinely baffled by this idea. “She abandoned us.”
“That was wrong,” I agree. “But it sounds like she wants to make amends for it.”
“It’s too fucking late for that.” His voice drops flat.
The words sit between us, in the air surrounding us. I feel for Asher, but I also can empathize with his mom. The shame she must have felt about being sentenced to prison, not wanting her sons to know that, perhaps wanting to spare them the agony of seeing her waste years away behind bars.
And maybe it was the wrong choice, but she seems to feel terrible and desires to make things right.
“How do your brothers feel?” I finally ask.
“They’re shocked, too, but they’re gonna give it a try.” There’s a hint of disgust in his tone. Like he can’t seem to envision why they’d do that.
“Is forgiveness hard for you?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
I feel his shrug. “I dunno. I guess in this case it is.” He yawns. “Let’s go to sleep. I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.” He tugs me tighter against him, and after a few seconds, I feel him start to relax.
My head is swirling with emotion and thoughts. Uncertainty. I’m feeling so much right now that I don’t know if I can sleep. Asher opened up and talked to me about something very sensitive to him. He fucked me senseless, made me come twice, was rough on my body…but he also dropped his guard at least a couple of times.
Asher is complicated, that much is for sure. I don’t know what he and I are, but I know me, and at some point, we’ll need to talk about it. Especially given that I’m already feeling torn about leaving him at the beginning of next year.
I still want to go to school, desperately. It’s been my goal for a while now. The one thing I’ve focused on attaining. And it’s right in my grasp.
And then Asher is here, literally in my grasp…and I don’t know how I can walk away from him.
I stand in front of my bedroom mirror and eye myself with a critical gaze. The costume I have on isn’t the sexiest—I’m dressed like a zombie cheerleader with thick tights on to protect my legs against the chilly October air. But I worked hard on the makeup and I’m pretty damn proud of it.
I have no idea what Asher is dressing as. When he asked me to come to the costume party, he said we should surprise each other. I agreed.
Over the last couple of days, we’ve avoided the topic of his mom when talking or texting. I know he’s still feeling confused, angry, sensitive, and I don’t want to add to his tension. But it’s just another thing I feel like we aren’t talking about.
The list keeps getting bigger.
I slip into my intentionally scuffed-up beater tennis shoes, give my hair one last muss, careful not to disturb the leaves I tucked in there, then head downstairs.
Mom is sitting by the front door, a bowl of candy in her lap. “You look amazing,” she says with a laugh. “I don’t know how you manage to pull it off and still be beautiful.”
I smirk and give her a sassy wink. “I have good genes.”
“So is Asher on his way to get you?” Behind her question are a hundred other questions, and I can see them all in her eyes—are he and I together? Have I forgiven him for running off the way he did? Do I love him? What am I going to do about college?
I sigh. “I know you’re worried, Mom.”
“Of course I am. I don’t want you to get hurt again. Or have your life thrown off balance by all of this.” She stands and hands me a small Snickers bar, which I unwrap and eat. She knows my favorite candy, of course. “I know you’re an adult, and I can’t tell you what to do. I just worry.”
“Ironic, you talking about how I’m an adult as you ply me with Snickers bars,” I laugh.
She smiles, a little sadly, but proud too. “You’ll always be my child,” she says.
“Thanks. I’d hug you, but I don’t want to get zombie mess all over you.” I grin.
“Yeah, let’s not do that,” she says with a mock shudder.
“I’m going to be careful, I promise.” Well, reasonably so. I haven’t been able to protect my heart from falling for him again. “And I’m still going to school.” Most likely. God, even thinking that, being wishy-washy on the topic, makes a hot surge of guilt flood me.
I can’t change myself for a guy. I shouldn’t. But Asher makes me rethink everything I thought I wanted.
Can he and I make it work if I’m not living in Rock Bridge? Would he even want to?
The doorbell rings. Mom opens it, bowl of candy in hand. “You’re a little old to be trick-or-treating, aren’t you?” she says wryly,
opening the door wider to let Asher in.
He’s wearing his old high school football uniform…which is scuffed up and dirty. And he has zombie makeup on.
“No way,” I say with a laugh. “No way. That’s hilarious.” We purposely never divulged what we would be dressing up as, and yet here we are—kind of picking the same costume.
His jaw drops when he sees me. “Holy shit. Are you kidding me?”
Mom shakes her head. “Okay, maybe you two do belong together. That’s pretty eerie, you guys.”
We head out the door into the cool night air, and Asher leads me to his car. It warms up again quickly, and I sigh as I press my chilly hands to the heater.
“I can’t believe we had the same idea,” he murmurs in wonder, eyeing me again. “Your makeup looks way better than mine, though.”
“I dunno. You’re pretty attractive with pasty gray skin,” I say, grinning. “You pull it off well.”
We take off, going very slowly to be careful of trick-or-treaters prowling through the neighborhood. We take turns pointing out costumes that catch our eye, laughing at the massive pillows some kids carry that are stuffed with candy.
After twenty minutes, we pull up along the curb of a nice neighborhood behind a row of cars lined up, and Asher shuts off the car, looks at me. There’s a definite warmth in his eyes as he rakes his gaze over my breasts.
“If we had cheerleaders who looked like you in school, I never would have been able to focus on football,” he says.
I flush at his compliment. “You’re silly.” Besides, if I’d been a cheerleader, I wouldn’t have been able to focus on cheers. It was bad enough going to the football games to watch him—my attention was riveted on Asher the whole time.
He leans over and brushes his lips against mine. “God, I want you again. Always. I crave being inside you.”
The hushed words make my skin heat up, and suddenly the cheerleader uniform is too warm. “You turn me on,” I admit. “Even just your words. There’s an intensity in you that draws me.” I will myself to stop talking, because with every day that passes, I find that I want to confess my feelings for him. And until we talk about what we are, I can’t do that.