We move together, slow at first, then faster, bodies learning each other in half-moons and desperate arcs.
His forehead presses to mine.
His breath falls against my lips.
His hips settle between my thighs.
He says my name again—soft, bruised, reverent—right before the rest dissolves into heat.
But the heat is just the beginning. That single, perfect point of connection where our bodies meet is a live wire, and every nerve ending I possess is screaming for more. The tough fabric of his shorts is a maddening barrier, and my own leggings feel like a prison.
His hands lift from my hips, sliding around to my backside, and he grips me firmly, pulling me even tighter against the hard ridge of his cock. A whimper escapes me, high and needy.
“So impatient,” he murmurs against my mouth, his voice a low, thrilling rumble. His teeth graze my bottom lip, a sharp promise that makes my knees buckle. He holds me up effortlessly. “You feel that, Val? That’s what you do to me.Every. Damn. Time.”
I can feel it.I can feel the thick, insistent pressure of him, and a fresh wave of pure, liquid want washes through me, so potent my head swims. I rock against him, a small, desperate movement I can’t control, seeking the friction I’m dying for.
A dark, approving sound vibrates in his chest. “That’s it. Show me what you need.”
One of his hands leaves my ass, sliding up my spine, and his fingers tangle in the high ponytail at the back of my head. He gives it a gentle, testing tug, tilting my head back and exposing my throat. His lips are there in an instant, hot and open-mouthed, tasting my skin. He sucks lightly just below my jaw, and I know he’s marking me, branding me, and the thought is so possessive it sends a jolt straight to my core.
“Asher…” I gasp, my own hands frantic now, sliding under his damp shirt, feeling the incredible heat of his skin, the hard planes of his stomach muscles clenching under my palms.
He releases my hair, his hands going to the waistband of my leggings. His eyes lock with mine, a silent question burning in their dark depths. My breath hitches. All I can do is nod, a quick, frantic bob of my head.
Yes. God, yes.
He doesn’t look away from me as he hooks his thumbs into the fabric and peels it down, his knuckles brushing against the hypersensitive skin of my hips and thighs. The air of the empty gym is cool against my exposed skin, a shocking contrast to the fire he’s stoking inside me. He pushes the leggings down just past my knees, and the vulnerability is dizzying.
He lowers himself, between my legs and the sight is so unexpectedly submissive and yet so utterly commanding that I have to brace a hand against the weight rack. His hands smooth up my bare thighs, spreading them slightly.
“So fucking beautiful,” he breathes, the words a hot caress against my inner thigh. He nips at the tender skin there, and I jump. Then he soothes it with his tongue, a long, slow lick that has me trembling.
His mouth finds my center, and my knees absolutely give out. A choked cry rips from my throat as his hands clamp on my hips, holding me steady against the rack.His tongue.Oh god, his tongue is flat and hot and perfect, laving over me with a focused intensity that steals the oxygen from the room.
He doesn’t just taste me; hedevoursme. One hand slides around to my front, his thumb finding my clit, circling it with a relentless, perfect pressure while his tongue delves deep inside me. My hips buck against his face, my fingers clawing at his hair, holding on for dear life as he pushes me higher and higher. Pleasure, sharp and bright, coils tightly in my belly.
“Please… Asher… I’m…” I’m babbling, lost in the sensation.
He growls against me, the vibration tipping me over the edge. My orgasm crashes through me, a silent, shocking wave thatwhites out my vision and seizes every muscle in my body. I shudder against him, my cries muffled by my own arm.
He gentles his touch, kissing my inner thighs as I come down, my entire body humming. But he’s not done. He rises, his own need etched into the fierce lines of his face. He pushes his shorts and briefs down in one swift motion, and my mouth goes dry. He’s thick and hard and beautifully erect, and the sight of him, glistening at the tip, makes my stomach flip.
He grips himself, stroking slowly as he looks at me, sprawled and panting against the weights. “You ready for me, Valentina?”
Before I can form a thought, he’s on me. He flips me over onto my hands and knees, turning me to face the mirrored wall, my back pressed against his chest. One arm bands around my waist, holding me secure, while the other hand guides himself to my entrance.
“Watch,” he commands, his voice rough in my ear.“Watch me take you.”
My eyes, heavy-lidded and drunk with pleasure, focus on our reflection. I see the flush on my skin, the dazed look in my eyes. I see him, powerful and dominant behind me, his expression one of raw hunger.
He pushes inside me in one slow, inexorable thrust that steals the air from my lungs. I amfull, stretched, consumed by him. A ragged moan tears from my throat, echoed by his own guttural groan.
“Fuck… you’re so tight.”
He begins to move, a slow, deep rhythm that’s utterly devastating. Each thrust is a claim, each withdrawal a sweetagony. His hand slides down from my waist, his fingers finding my clit again, rubbing tight, frantic circles that have a second, tighter orgasm already building, coiling deep within me.
He pins me with his body, his pace quickening, becoming harder, more frantic. The sound of our bodies meeting, skin slapping against skin, is obscenely loud in the quiet gym. His breath is hot and ragged against my neck, his curses a filthy, beautiful prayer.
