As I spoke, I pressed my lips to her core, feeling the warmth and wetness that met me. She was so ready for me, and it both thrilled and terrified me. Her taste was intoxicating, sweet and salty all at once. I licked her gently, teasingly, using the soft roughness of my tongue to explore her folds. Her hips bucked up off the bed in response, her gasps and moans filling the room.
Her scent was intoxicating, an innocence that made my head spin. I moved my hands up her sides, tracing the delicate lines of her ribcage until they rested on her breasts. My thumbs rubbed across her hardening nipples as I continued to pleasure her with my mouth. She tasted even better than I even imagined.
The sound of her heavy breathing filled the room. Her fingers tangled in my hair as she arched her back off the mattress, pushing herself deeper into my mouth. I took more of her into me, lapping at her like a hungry beast.
"Ashton," she said against the sheets, her voice thick and needy. "Please..."
I repositioned myself so I could slip two fingers inside her pussy as I continued to suck and lick at her clit.
She was so tight around my fingers. Fuck. I loved the sounds she made, the gasps and moans filling the room as I worked my tongue on her clit while my fingerscurled inside her, finding her G-spot. She was so wet my dick twitched in response. Her skin was softer than I had ever imagined, and her taste was something I craved more and more.
The bed squeaked softly as Erin lifted her hips off the mattress, pushing herself deeper onto my fingers. Her breathing became ragged, punctuated by tiny whimpers that made me throb with need. I moved my fingers faster, repeatedly hitting that spot that would send her over the edge while I sucked harder on her clit. The noises she made grew louder, desperate for release.
"Ashton," she gasped out between moans. "Don't stop."
Her words drove me wild as I started curling my fingers harder and faster, hitting that spot over and over until she cried out in pleasure. Her inner walls clenched involuntarily around my fingers, and she bucked her hips twice as she came.
As she rode her climax, her grip on me tightened before finally relaxing as the waves of pleasure seemed to wash away the fog of drunkenness. She sighed, content and spent, sinking into the pillows.
I pulled the blanket over her, ensuring she was covered and warm. Watching her chest rise and fall with peaceful breaths, I curled up beside her, tormented by a desire that left me rock hard and aching. But I'd made my choice, and despite the physical agony, I knew it wasthe right one. Sleep claimed her quickly, but I lay there, my eyes wide open, wrestling with the fiercest longing I had ever known.
With one last look at Erin's peaceful face, I finally let exhaustion take over, hoping sleep would offer some reprieve from my aching hard dick.
Chapter 21
Erin
I woketo a pounding in my skull that echoed the throbbing embarrassment in my chest. Sunlight stabbed through the blinds, each ray a reminder of last night's debacle. Ashton.
My God, what had I done? The memory surged, uninvited and vivid: me, pathetic and slurring, pressing myself against him in a desperate bid for something—anything to dull the ache.
He'd been kind. Too kind. Pity laced every gentle touch as his hands did what mine couldn't. Now, I could barely stomach the recollection. I wanted to scream, to erase it all, but the headache was merciless, chaining me to the silent scream inside.
I dragged myself out of bed. Water was the first step to any semblance of recovery. Gulping down a full glass, Ilet the cool liquid wash over my tongue, hoping it could cleanse the mortification, too.
No such luck.
A shower followed, the hot needles of water attempting to pierce through the layers of shame clinging to my skin.
Again, no help.
When I finally descended the stairs, the scent of coffee coaxed a small sigh from my lips. There on the table, under a protective bowl, sat a stack of pancakes. Ashton's handwriting sprawled across a note beside them:
Best hangover food!
<3 Ashton
I paused, the simple kindness in the gesture deepening the red staining my cheeks. He'd taken care of me, even after...that. Gratitude wrestled with the humiliation, a confusing tangle I wasn't ready to unravel. Not yet.
For now, there was ibuprofen to find and a hangover to nurse. With a ghost of a smile for the man who could still be so sweet after witnessing me at my worst, I reached for the comfort he'd left behind—the breakfast of champions for the truly penitent.
I popped the pancakes in the microwave, tapping my foot impatiently as they spun on the plate. When themicrowave dinged, I pulled out the plate and slid it onto the table. I stood there, staring at the fluffy stack, with no appetite but knowing I needed to eat something.
I wrapped up a naked pancake, no syrup, just shoved it in my mouth mechanically as I rummaged through the cabinets for ibuprofen.
Finding the bottle brought a small wave of relief, not enough to touch the embarrassment that sat heavy in my stomach, but something to look forward to. I downed two pills with the first sip of black coffee, wincing at the bitterness.
Ashton was nowhere to be seen, and for that, I thanked every deity I could think of. The last thing I needed was his eyes on me, those soft brown eyes that must have held pity and discomfort last night. I shook my head, chasing away the memory, focusing instead on the warmth of the mug between my hands.
