“You’re still thinking about him,” Asher says. “Can’t have that.” Slowly, he drops his thigh between mine, then grasps the vibrator and runs the buzzing shaft of it up and down the inside of my knee, higher and higher until it’s sitting flush with my heat, vibrations sending tendrils of pleasure through me that trace down my thighs, up my back. “Can you hold that in place?” he asks.
I nod. My hair has come loose on the pillow. I wiggle around until the vibrator is sending random bursts of sensations through me, as Asher sits up on his knees, watching me.
He thumbs open the button of his jeans, pushes them down without any hesitation, and kicks them off to the floor. He’s in dark green boxer briefs that are still light enough to reveal the wet spot right over the head of his cock. He spits on his hand, reaches for himself, stops when I shake my head.
“I thought you said we weren’t—” He pauses like the technicality of not sleeping together will erase the fact that we are. “In that case…” He grips the back of my knees, dragging me toward him as he widens my legs, then positions the vibrator mercilessly at my clit. “When was the last time someone”—he spitssomeoneas if he meansBrayden—“made you come so hard you blacked out?”
“Um.” My face flushes for an entirely different reason. Because I’ve never done that, not with another person involved. Not with someone who didn’t fuck me until he was done, then roll over and leave me to finish by myself. Someone who had no idea of if I was faking it or who did know but really didn’t care. “It’s been a while.” Becauseneveris included ina while.
“Rich boys,” Asher says with a sneer, “always so afraid to put in a little work.” He presses a kiss to my mouth, firm, my jaw cupped in his hand. Another, soft and sweet. Another delivered so quickly my body surges up to meet his. He kisses down my chest, pausing at my breasts to suck each one, to pinch my nipples until they’re hard and aching, to reach for his own cock and give it a tug like he needs the relief.
He continues down, lower, hands unhesitant on the soft folds of my stomach, fingers tracing over my body as if he’s memorizing it, until he settles himself between my legs. “Put your thigh on my shoulder,” he says.
“Are you sure—” I start, because I’ve been told my legs areheavyall my life. I stop when he shoots me a dark look.
“Next time, I’m going to fuck you against your front door to prove a point.”
Next time. As if that’s a guaranteed thing. I don’t have time to think about that when he draws my leg up, pushes the shaft of the vibrator right against my pussy, then kisses me—once, slow, on the interior of my thigh where I can feel wetness leaking down, then again on the other side, almost where I need him.
“Oh,” I say, falling into old habits—not faking, but definitely exaggerating, “that feels good.”
Asher looks up at me skeptically, then snorts like he doesn’t believe me. He kisses another pattern on my thigh, fingers edging closer to my pussy before he draws them back.
I squirm, trying to reposition the vibrator, telling myself that I can always get myself off later if I need to. A disappointment, but not a surprise. “Keep going like that.”
He glances up at me. “I know what you’re trying to do.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re telling me something you think I want to hear instead of the truth.” He mutters something under his breath that sounds vaguely likewonder where you learned that.
Then he seals his mouth against my clit, tongue working, a blaze going through me, something hot and winding and entirely different from the few sad licks previous boyfriends have managed before mumbling,Did you come yet?
My hands grip the bedspread as he keeps eating me out, like if I let go, I might float off into space, untethered from the Earth.Brayden could come home at any moment.And yet I can’t bring myself to care.
Asher draws back, leaving me panting. “When I saw you in that car,” he says, “sitting prim as a princess, this is what I wanted to do.”
“Torture me?” I gasp.
“Spoil you.”
He grabs the vibrator—other men have viewed it as, if not competition, at least a distraction—but he pumps it against my entrance until I’m open, aching, practically begging. “Please,” I whine.
He shakes his head. “You can ask better than that.”
If that’s what he wants, two people can play that game. ”You think you’re good enough to fuck me?” I ask, tone as haughty as I’ve ever managed.
He grins up at me, a real smile that lights up his entire face. I see why he doesn’t smile like that more often. Now that I’ve seen it, I can never not know it’s there, buried under his intense expression. “That’s it, princess.” He taps the vibrator at my pussy again, licks me a few more times.
I’m on the edge, feet tense, sweat gathering under my tits and along my spine. Close, close, but not enough. “Asher…”
Finally, he pushes the vibrator inside me, stretching me, filling my walls. “Tomorrow, when you wake up inhishouse,” he growls, “remember who made you come like this.”
And he clicks something on the vibrator, until it’s nothing but a whir, until my entire body seizes—toes curled, handslocked to the comforter, cunt pulsing as my orgasm radiates through me bright and hot, a gush that descends down my thighs, my brain going from a blinked white to nothing at all. From between my legs, Asher clenches his eyes shut and grinds himself against the bed, and follows right behind me, my name on his lips as he comes.
And just before the world goes dark, I hear a noise—something vague that sounds like it’s coming from a universe away, even if it’s just from the floor below, the front door opening and slamming shut. Brayden.Fuck.
Chapter Twenty-Three
