“Too much, mi amor?” he asked, sliding a finger inside me.
My love. I tried not to think—about the words, about anything—and rocked against his mouth as pleasure built. It magnified when he found the spot inside me, rubbing while his lips pulled at my clit.
“Quiero que te corras,” he whispered.I want you to come.
As if I could stop it.
A helpless moan broke from my throat. He kept the rhythm, coaxing me higher with each lick, each caress. The first ripple of release spread through me, and when I glanced down, there was pride in his eyes—like watching me fall apart beneath him undid him too.
The ripple swelled into a crashing wave, a tsunami that tore through me as he hummed against my sex. My cries filled the room. Sweat slicked my skin.
I shoved my top up with shaky hands, desperate to strip off the rest.
Asher rose to his full height, watching me with hunger that spurred me on. I knelt on the bed, unclasped my bra, and slid the straps down slowly, teasing him.
One look at the strain in his jeans told me it worked.
I tossed the bra aside and hooked my fingers into his belt loops, tugging him closer until he couldn’t go anywhere else. I eased the zipper down and pushed at his pants. My palm pressed against his erection, and he hissed through his teeth.
“Kaia.”
I slipped my hand under the hem of his boxer briefs and curled my fingers around him. Hot, heavy, pulsing. I pushed the fabric down and slid my fingertips along his length, from the base to the swollen head slick with precum.
Asher tipped his head back, throat working with a swallow. “It’s always wrecked me—every touch. Just you looking at me like that.”
“What about this?” I asked, brushing my thumb over his tip.
He gave a pained laugh. “What do you think, mi amor?”
That word again. He used to mean it, and the possibility he still did warmed me from the inside out. I leaned forward, lips level with him.
Asher cupped my jaw, the lust in his eyes clearing. “No.”
The rejection stabbed through me. He wanted this, so why wouldn’t he let me give it?
His gaze softened. “I don’t trust myself not to come the second you touch me.”
Relief loosened my chest. He pressed a knee into the mattress, nudging me back until I lay down.
Then he hovered above me, lowering onto his forearms, strong body caging mine.
“Open for me,” he murmured, eyes on my mouth.
I parted my lips, and he claimed them in a deep, scorching kiss. His tongue tangled with mine, and he moaned, like he couldn’t believe this was real. One hand cupped my breast, teasing the nipple I ached for him to kiss. As if reading my mind, he trailed his mouth down and sucked one peak, then the other.
His palm slid up my thigh, fingers brushing my slit—testing. Ready. He slipped inside easily, dragging the moisture up to circle my clit.
“Ash,” I whispered. “I’m ready.”
He kissed me slow, then reached into the nightstand and tore open a new box of condoms.
Like the first time, I watched him roll one down his length. He cradled my face, searching my expression, then pressed me open with his weight. I shivered at the mix of lust and nerves.
His tip grazed me before he thrust in, filling me deep.
His forehead dropped to my collarbone, lips scattering wet kisses across my skin as his breath stuttered. I lifted my hips, pressing closer, taking him deeper.
My fingers skimmed down his spine to the curve of his ass. Quiet settled between us until he started moving—slow, steady rolls of his hips. Not just easing me in. Making me remember.
