She sucked in a breath, but she didn’t stop me—didn’t push me away.
Didn’t even pretend she wanted to.
My fingers brushed higher, teasing, waiting—feeling the heat between her thighs before I even touched her.
“Still going to pretend you don’t want this?” I murmured against her lips.
She didn’t answer.
Her silence said everything.
I pressed my thumb against her clit, and she broke.
A sharp inhale. Nails digging into my neck.
“Fuck…” I felt it then—how wet she was, how ready.
Like she’d been waiting for this.
I slid two fingers inside her slowly this time—watching her mouth fall open as she took them.
“Just like that… don’t stop.” I hissed against her mouth.
She was in a daze, not paying attention to me, so I pulled out.
“What are you—” She breathed. “What are you doing?”
“Handling this situation myself.” I grabbed her hips and turned her toward the mirror.
Not gently, not asking.
She caught herself on the counter, her breathing already uneven.
“Look at yourself,” I said.
Her eyes flicked up and met mine in the glass. Then they stayed there.
That was all I needed.
I pushed her dress up slowly, exposing inch after inch until there was nothing left to hide.
Her panties were already pushed aside.
My fingers slid back inside her, slower this time—deliberate.
I made her watch me…Us.
Her lips parted, chest rising and falling harder with every movement.
“You see that?” I murmured. “That’s what you do to yourself every night… isn’t it?”
She didn’t answer.
Her body gave her away long before her mouth ever could.
I felt her pussy throbbing against my fingers, felt her on the edge as my cock stiffened against her ass.
Keeping my gaze locked on hers, I bit her neck and watched her chest heave up and down as she said, “I hate you, Asher,” upon reaching her orgasm.
