“That sound turns me on so fucking much,” Asher murmured, dragging his mouth down my neck. “You turn me on. In this dress. Out of it.”
He slid a finger inside me, and I arched into his hand, helpless against the pleasure sparking through me.
Someone could walk in. My father was about to give a speech. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was the relentless press of Asher’s fingers and the heat building inside me.
He brought me to the edge, then pulled his hand away and brushed his nose along the shell of my ear. His shaky exhale ghosted over my skin. “Lift your dress.”
He pulled a condom from his wallet, his gaze burning as I gathered the fabric inch by inch.
Asher sheathed himself and scooped me up, leaving me no choice but to wrap my legs around his waist.
He pressed me against the door. Trembling with anticipation, I sought his mouth.
He seized my lips hungrily, just as desperate as I was.
Slowly, he lowered me onto his cock. I rocked my hips to take him in, his forehead dropping to my shoulder, hands gripping my ass. “Fuck, Kaia.”
I moved again. With a groan against my skin, Asher thrust deeper. The air caught in my lungs at how completely he filled me.
He moved in and out, teasing me with shifts in pace and depth. Each slam, each retreat, echoed in wet, slippery sounds.
I reached between us, circling my swollen clit. Asher’s fingers dug into my ass while his mouth marked my neck.
He could’ve branded me, and Iwouldn’t have cared.
“More,” I whispered when he slowed. “Please, Ash. More.”
He kissed me hard. “Touch yourself faster. You’re so close.”
His next thrust rattled the door. I bit his shoulder to muffle a cry as pleasure exploded—fireworks bursting through me while my walls clenched around him.
He jerked his hips forward, body shuddering.
His kiss was open-mouthed, messy, desperate. Then he carried me to the table, setting me down as aftershocks coursed through me.
He straightened my dress, fixed his clothes, then cradled my face in his palms. “I love you.”
Our mouths met in a slow, lingering kiss.
Somewhere in the building, people clapped.
I grinned. “Should we bow?”
“Well,” Asher murmured, chuckling, “I guess we missed your father’s speech.”
***
We also missed the start of dinner. By the time we returned to the hall, waiters were serving the main course.
My father shot us his signature disapproving glare. If he knew what we’d been doing in that meeting room, he’d have thrown us out—not that we wanted to be here.
The beef tenderloin in Cognac sauce was delicious, but tension at the table strangled my appetite. I pushed mushrooms around my plate until Asher slid an arm over my shoulders.
“What’s wrong? You okay?”
My father’s fork clanged against porcelain. “Can we not do this at the table?” he barked.
Beside me, Asher stiffened. “Do what? Care when she’s not eating?”
