"Ash."
He looks at me, and even in the dim light from the porch I can see how dark his eyes have gone. Pupils blown wide, that predator focus locked onto me like I'm prey.
"Inside."
One word. A command. I follow.
The door barely closes behind us before he's on me.
He pins me against the wall, one hand fisted in my hair, the other gripping my hip hard enough to bruise. His mouth finds mine and it's not gentle, not careful—it's claiming.Possessive. Like he's been holding back for weeks and he's finally done waiting.
"Wanted this," he growls against my lips. "Wanted you. Since the first fucking day."
"Then take me."
His control breaks. I can feel it happen, the careful restraint he's been maintaining since the garage, since he decided to try this for real—gone.
He hauls me off the wall and walks me backward down the hall, kissing me the whole way. His teeth catch my bottom lip, sharp enough to sting, and I moan into his mouth. I'm stumbling, grabbing at his shoulders for balance, and he just keeps driving me back until my spine hits a door—his bedroom. He reaches past me to shove it open and then we're inside, and he's pushing me toward the bed.
"Clothes off."
I strip. Shirt over my head, jeans shoved down, underwear gone. I'm naked in seconds, standing in front of him while he's still fully dressed, and the power imbalance makes my cock jerk. Him in control. Me exposed. Exactly where I want to be.
He looks at me. Really looks, his eyes traveling from my face down my chest, my stomach, my cock standing hard and flushed against my belly. Taking his time. Cataloging every inch like he's memorizing it.
"Fuck," he breathes. "Look at you."
"Your turn."
"No." He steps closer, still clothed, and drags his knuckles down my chest. Slow. Deliberate. Watching my skin pebble in the wake of his touch. "Not yet. I want to take you apart first."
His fingers find my nipple and twist—not hard, just enough to make me gasp. He does it again, rougher, and my knees nearly buckle.
"Sensitive," he murmurs, sounding pleased. His mouth replaces his fingers, tongue flicking hot and wet before his teeth scrape across the nub. I grab his shoulders just to stay upright.
"Ash—"
He switches to the other side, biting down just hard enough to make me cry out. The sting of it goes straight to my cock.
"On the bed. Hands and knees."
I scramble to obey, positioning myself on his bed—neatly made, military corners, sheets pulled tight. About to get destroyed.
I hear him moving behind me, the rustle of a drawer opening, then closing. The click of a bottle cap. And then he's there, still fully dressed, denim rough against the backs of my thighs as he spreads me open with both hands.
"Been thinking about this," he says, voice dropped low and filthy. "Thinking about eating this perfect ass until you're begging me to fuck you."
Then his tongue is on me and I stop thinking entirely.
He eats me out like he's starving for it. Long, slow licks that make me shake, then focused pressure right where I need it. His tongue circling, teasing, pushing inside. The wet sounds are obscene, the scrape of his stubble against my sensitive skin making everything more intense.
My arms give out and I end up face-down on the mattress, ass in the air, making sounds I'd be embarrassed about if I could think. He groans against me like I taste good, like he could do this for hours, and the vibration makes me sob.
"Please," I gasp into the pillow. "Ash, please, I need—"
"Need what?" He pulls back just enough to speak, his breath hot against my wet hole. "Tell me."
"Your fingers. Your cock. Anything, please, I need you inside me—"
