“I don’t want you to be a good guy,” she whispers, settling her hands on my chest. I jerk beneath her touch, and shake because the desire to grab her and make her mine is that strong. “I want you to take me.” She goes onto her tiptoes and smooths her hands up my chest. “Make me remember who I belong to.” She glances down, suddenly shy, and rubs her lips together. “I haven’t been with anyone in a long time. I think I’ll go crazy if I don’t have you.”
“How long?” The question is rough. My breath ragged.
She raises her eyes, the truth shining in them. It’s been as long for her as it has for me. “Three years.”
“Hell.” I give in to the impulse to grip her hips, and yank her close, letting her feel exactly what she does to me. “Are you sure you want this? Because if you give me a taste, I’ll become a greedy bastard and want more. I can’t…” I swallow, afraid to admit the truth, but I knows she needs to hear it. “I can’t do casual with you. It’s already too late for that.”
She nods. “I’m certain.”
Thank fucking God.
15
Ashlin
When Seth grabs me, I soften with relief. I’d been so worried he might reject me, and I don’t know if I could take that. In fact, I’ve been more or less obsessing over the possibility of what could happen between us since the first night he spent with me, and today I realized that if I didn’t want to always wonder, I needed to take action. Out of some misguided code of honor, he wasn’t going to be the one to take the initiative.
His palms skim my skin, and it’s the best sensation ever. They’re calloused and large, nearly encircling my hips. I shiver, my body inherently knowing what pleasure those hands can bring. Then he lifts me, strides to the bed, and places me on the covers. I frown. The Seth of my memories would have dumped me on the comforter, then dragged me to the edge of the bed to bury his head in my thighs with no mercy. His gentleness makes me feel fragile, and I don’t like it. Perhaps he needs reminding of how we used to be. Sitting up, I get to work on his jeans, dragging down the fly then trying to shove them over his hips.
“What’s the hurry?” he asks, lips twitching.
I scowl, hating how calm he seems while I’ve been teetering on the edge of reason for days. “Off.”
He nods, losing the smile. Beneath the jeans are a pair of boxer briefs. I pause, suddenly struck by the possibility that I’m not the only woman to see these briefs. How many has he been with since me?
Get out of your head.
Shaking myself, I reach around to grip his meaty ass, then peel down the waistband of his briefs, revealing the appendage I’ve missed like one of my own limbs. I eye his cock. It’s engorged and stands at attention. His balls are full, and sprinkled with hair. My lips part, and breath eases between them as I stare, captivated. To this day, Seth is the only man I’ve seen naked in the flesh. I cup his balls and massage them gently, watching his cock bob.
“Ash…”
“Shh.” I wrap a hand around the base of his shaft, needing him not to treat me as though I’m breakable. “Let me.”
I moisten my lips and wrap them around him, then sink forward as far as I can, his salty taste blossoming in my mouth. He nudges the back of my throat, and I press my legs together, squirming. There’s something about being in this position that really lights me up, and I don’t know if it’s because I feel powerfulor powerless. This man could grab my head and fuck my mouth. Use me for his pleasure. But then, he’s also at my mercy. I’m the instrument of his demise, and I love it.
“Please,” he whispers, and it’s all the encouragement I need. I work his cock, sucking, humming each time I take him deeper, doing everything I can to bring him to the brink. He buries his hands in my hair and his blunt fingernails rake over my scalp, doing delicious things to me. I level up the enthusiasm, needing him to see that I’m not fragile. He can treat me the way he used to and it won’t scare me off. His hips rock, and he groans—a combination of pleasure and misery. I pull back.
“Do it,” I say, looking up. “You know I like it.”
“You deserve better.”
I hold his gaze, unflinching. “But that’s not what I want.”
He tries to palm himself, but I swat his hand away. This only works if I’m the place he comes to for relief. His shoulders roll, and something about the fact he’s still clothed adds to the naughtiness of the moment.
“You’re sure?” he asks.
“I want it.”
“Fuck, you don’t even know what you’re asking for.” But he shoves himself against my lips, and I eagerly part them, taking him in. He gives a tentative thrust, fucking my mouth the way I’ve always loved.
“Harder,” I murmur around his length.
“Fuck,” he repeats, his hips working more forcefully. My eyes swim with tears when he jams himself even deeper, but wetness rushes to my core and I moan. “Aw, hell.” He falls into a rhythm that has me panting and writhing. His harsh grunts fuel my fire as he uses me to take his pleasure. “Such a sweet little mouth.” Thrust. “Didn’t know what you were asking for.” Thrust. “It’s been three fucking years since I was sucked off, Ash. Do you know what that does to a guy? How desperate it makes him?”
Yes, yes, yes.
This is what I want. What I need. Him talking to me like this. Touching me without finesse. Doing things that show he trusts me to give him what he needs and let him know what I want in return.
