That makes him laugh. “Good answer.” He pulls one of the bands and snaps it gently, chuckling a little when I yelp. “Did you want something, princess?”
I should say no. We don’t have much time. We don’t have any time at all really. “Please.”
“Of course. Since you asked so nicely.” He unzips his jeans—the zipper is loud—tugs them down just enough. His cock is like him: long and blunt and just the right shape. He pulls down my panties and takes himself in hand, pushing forward.
Then he stops. Pats his pockets. “I don’t have a condom.”
All the other men I’ve been with wouldn’t have brought it up. Most were outraged at the idea that they could potentially have an STI as if STIs were warded off by boat shoes and prep school diplomas. “Do we need one?” I ask.
“I got a team physical when I got traded. Everything that should come back negative did.” But he doesn’t move any further. “I don’t want you to have to take my word for it.”
“I trust you to be honest. If you trust me too…” I smile at him, but he doesn’t return it.
“It’s not you I don’t trust.”
Of course he thinks Brayden is screwing around behind my back. For all I know, Braydenisscrewing around behind my back. He’s had his location pin on for a while. For the past few weeks, when the team isn’t traveling, all he’s done is gone from the ballpark to various running routes around the neighborhood. Who knows what he gets up to otherwise? I should. I’m hiswife. “Bray wouldn’t—” I try to think of something other thantreat me like that.“We’re careful.”
For a second, I think Asher is going to pull up his pants and leave. I wouldn’t blame him, even if I’m aching. “Are you on, uh…” Asher starts then pauses. “I don’t want to get you pregnant.” He grins at me in the mirror. “Yet.”
Fuck. “I have an IUD.”
“So I can fill this pretty pussy up and no one will ever know?”
I nod, frantic, and Asher doesn’t wait. Just grips himself and eases into me. I’m so wet it doesn’t take much. He’s big inside me, pressing against my inner walls, bigger still when he begins to thrust.
My hands scrabble against the slick bathroom countertop. My shoes wobble against the floor. If anyone came in right now, they wouldn’t see Savannah Burke, or Forsyth, or whoever, country club socialite, but someone barely coherent and begging to be fucked.
“Shh, princess, someone’ll hear.” Asher drags his fingers through my slick, then sticks two of them in my mouth, my taste spreading across my tongue. “That’s how wet you are. That’s how wet I made you.”
I suck, frantic for some relief. I’ve been on the edge for an hour, since the last time we were together.
“Did you miss me?” he asks.
I nod.
“Did you fuck yourself on those toys in your nightstand and wish they were me?”
“Yes.”
Asher braces my hip with one hand and drops his fingers from my mouth in favor of working my clit in time with his thrusts. Pleasure drips in rivulets down my thighs. How could I ever fake any of this now that I know how it really feels?
He pushes into me even harder, laughing when I whine, when I arch my back, desperate for more. “Fuck yourself, that’s it. Go back toyour husbandaching from my cock.”
I try to say something—something likeso you’re thinking about him too—but the words aren’t there. Only a gasp and a snap of Asher’s hips and a flick of his thumb across my clit and that smile of his in the mirror and all at once I’m coming around him so hard that I can barely stand as he empties himself inside me.
After, we stand there, breathing. I need to clean myself up. I need to figure out what I’m going to do about Brayden. I need to…
My legs start shaking. My vision blurs. Slowly, I start sinking toward the floor.
“Whoa, whoa.” Asher yanks his pants up, then wraps his arms around me, his lips making brief contact with my hairline. “You okay?”
“Not really.”
“Migraine?”
“Maybe.” Though it doesn’t feel like one. I blink a few times. My eyes go watery.
“Hey,” Asher says, “breathe how I’m breathing.”
