“Always so polite,” she says as she does exactly that.
“Brat.” I wink.
She pinches my nipple in jest. “You watch it, or else I’ll find an extra tie for that smart mouth of yours.”
The glint in her eyes is wicked, and I’m so here for it.
19
Claire
Splayed out before me,all masculine and muscular, Asher says, “What am I going to do with you?”
“Do? It doesn’t look like you’lldomuch in this position.”
Playing with this man is the most fun I’ve had in a long, long time. I cannot believe he let me tie him to the fucking bed. Who does that?
“I don’t need my hands to play with your pussy. Or my feet. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.” He waggles his brow.
“Oh my god. That is so not my fetish.” I cringe, though I quickly wipe the expression from my face. “Wait. Is it yours?”
“Baby, you can touch me however and wherever you want.”
A thrill shoots through me, even as I laugh. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”
“And you’re still wearing too many clothes.”
With my attention fixed on him, I take my time slithering my panties down my legs, then unhooking my bra and dramatically letting the straps fall off my shoulders. As the lace peels away and exposes my breasts, Asher’s eyes widen with lust and he clenches his fists, the move making his biceps contract.
I’ve been self-conscious about my small breasts for as long as I can remember. When mine stopped growing in eighth grade and everyone around me graduated to a C-cup and beyond, I was super jealous, so I’d stuff my bra with plastic bags of pudding because tissues weren’t realistic enough. As an adult, I’ve invested in quite the collection of push-up bras. I typically keep them on during hookups, but I’m not the least bit insecure about my body around Asher.
When I straddle his lap, he commands, “Grab the headboard.”
“What? The instructions said for me to do whatIwant.”
“Then let me rephrase that. Claire, do you want your clit sucked?”
I nod, my core pulsing.
“Good. Now grab the fucking headboard and sit on my face, woman.”
I leave a trail of arousal on his smooth skin as I crawl up his stomach and chest. When I’ve steadied myself on the wrought iron, I peer down at him.
His eyes crinkle at the sides in a way that can only be described as hypnotic. “I said—” he begins, but I cut him off, smothering his words with my cunt.
I am a rule-follower, after all.
One lick and I’m sent into another dimension.
My hips dance the foxtrot with his tongue—slow-quick-quick-slow.
This is a master class in mustache rides.
Holy hell.
Someone sign me up for the lifetime membership because this man caneat.
“Fuck, Ash. Fuck, that’s good.”
