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I hate owing this man anything, even this. Worse, some darker part of me wants to know what happens if I make him lose control, just once.
My hand shakes as I turn in my seat, unfasten his button, and lower the zipper.
Asher goes still. Then his eyes darken as I wrap my hand around him. “Fuck, pet, so good. And I didn’t even have to tell you.”
He’s hard, his cock heavy and hot in my hand, and my mouth goes dry. I have no idea what I’m doing. I do it anyway, clumsy and furious and fascinated, stroking him the way I’d want it done.
A groan catches low in his throat.
Fuck. I did that.
“Look at you,” he breathes, his head falling back against the seat. “Trying so hard to pretend you don’t want to please me.”
“Shut up.”
“There’s my good boy.”
His composure is coming apart in my hand, and I want more of it. I tighten my grip, and his hips push up into my fist. Even now, his hand finds my cock again, cupping my oversensitive crown and playing with me while I work him.
It doesn’t take long. A few rough strokes and his breath turns ragged before he spills over my fingers with a low, broken sound I’m going to hear in my sleep for a week.
For a few seconds, neither of us moves. His head stays tipped back against the seat as I sag into mine, both of us breathing too hard in the sealed quiet. My hand is still loosely wrapped around him, his resting warm against my thigh, and it takes an embarrassingly long time before either of us seems capable of remembering where we are.
Asher finally turns his head towards me, still catching his breath, that familiar satisfaction already creeping back into his expression.
We sit there another moment before he pulls a cloth from the console and cleans us both up. “There. Refreshed. Now, about dinner.”
“Take me back.” I swallow, shame creeping back in with every breath now that my body has stopped shaking. “To the mine. I want my shift tomorrow. I need something in my life that’s still mine, something you didn’t buy, claim, or clear while I slept.”
His expression changes, but I make myself keep going.
“I can’t afford to want this. The day you get bored, or your father calls, or the wind changes, I’ll be standing in the wreckage with my brother and nothing left. Not even a debt to organize my life around.” I look at him. “So take me back. Please.”
For a long moment he says nothing. “The wind isn’t going to change, stormbird.”
“Everyone’s wind changes.” I look out the window. “Especially for those who swear it won’t.”
They always sounded so certain at the start. Every single one.
I wait for the fight. The hand on my jaw, the filthy line, the certainty he uses like a key, but it doesn’t come.
“All right.”
I turn to him. “...All right?”
“You want the mine, you’ll have your shift. You want to go back, I’ll take you back.” He pulls us onto the road, one hand resting on the wheel. “I’m not going to drag you anywhere, Jade. I’ve never had to.”
Cold creeps over my skin.
That’s it?
One request. One please, and he lets me go.
And it isn’t until now that I wonder about the parking lot. Whether he said all that just to give my hands somewhere to put it.
Asher Clement bought a company to reach me. Crossed the Reach. Took half a district from Vasco at cards. Men like him don’t simply give up because someone asks nicely.
And yet he turns the car towards the mine without another word.
