Asher(39)

It’s an odd feeling—the cool air hitting my most private, throbbing parts—but then his tongue laps at me, rough and hot.

Undoing me.

I fall back on my elbows, my breasts tingling, ripples of pleasure shooting up from where he’s holding me and torturing me so perfectly. I moan, needing more.

And he gives me more. His fingers slide inside my core, pressing and stroking, and I can’t stop the cry building up in my throat. I’m so close.

He looks up at me and presses his mouth more firmly, eating me up, as his fingers fuck me harder.

“Ash!” I shudder and shake as lightning pleasure goes through me, waves and waves of it, hitting me one after the other, shattering me. I sob for breath, and he still licks at me, still touches me, prolonging my orgasm, wringing every last drop of it, until I fall back on the table, limp and drained.

I wanted him inside me, but god this was mind-blowing. My body sings with pleasure, and my every muscle is lax and heavy.

Arms slip under my back, under my knees, lifting me. No energy is left in me. I wrap an arm around Ash’s neck and let him do what he pleases with me.

Boy likes carrying me. I could get used to that. Could get used to his deep smell, the warmth of his skin, the feel of his strong muscles, the way tendons bulge on the side of his neck.

“Auds...” he whispers.

Yeah, I could also easily get used to the way he speaks my name, low and full of desire.

He sits down on the sofa, on the sheets where he sleeps, keeping me on his lap. He holds me, his arms like steel around me, his face buried in my hair. He’s still fully hard; I can feel his erection against my leg.

“I’m sorry,” he says against my skin.

“What for?” My body feels liquid, draped all over him.

“Ignoring you back in school after we kissed.”

I nod. I still don’t really get it. He went through some rough times, I know that now, but still... “It’s all right.”

“No, it’s not. I screwed up.”

“It’s okay,” I say. “I understand.”

“No,” he says, “you don’t.” His heart booms. Whatever he’s about to say is hard for him. “Dad knew I liked you. He said he’d go talk to you, tell you what a fuck-up I am. God, Auds, the thought of him coming anywhere near you...” He presses his lips together.

Oh dear god. His dad is such an asshole. “I’m so sorry,” I say. “And you’re here now.” I thread my arms around his neck. “We’re here. We’ll be fine.”

He sighs, cradles me closer. Then his hand drifts down my arm and moves to my breast, lightly touching. Making me throb with need again.

He lowers me until I sit on the sofa and leans over me, his mouth closing over mine, his tongue teasing my lips.

Oh god, this is crazy. I came by to show him my scars, to let him know it worked. Showing me his scars made me trust him again. It also gave me a glimpse into his life and made me understand him more. It’s a step in the right direction, and I wanted to let him know that.

The transition from that part to this is blurry. One moment I’m showing him my ugly scars, and the next he’s going down on me—and now he’s doing it again.

Driving me insane with need. For him.

My hands fumble with his shirt and I manage to snag the hem and tug. This time he helps me, grabbing it and tearing it off.

Jeez, this boy’s chest should be illegal. My hands smooth over his six pack, his firm pecs, the grooves at his hips. His hardness presses between my legs and his lashes flutter against his cheekbones.

“Wait,” I say.

He glances at me under his lowered lashes. His chest rises and falls rapidly. “God, Auds. I’ll stop if you ask me to, but I don’t want to.”

I sit up, push him back against the cushions. He lets me, sighing, a look of sadness stealing over his features.

Kneeling at his feet, I unbutton his jeans and tug them down. His eyes grow heavy-lidded, pale blue swallowed by black; his pupils blown huge with desire.

Pulling his boots and socks off, I take off his jeans and look up at him. He wears black briefs. He’s so hard, the head of his cock is peeking over the elastic, and he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s staring at me, his hands clenched by his sides, as if afraid to make a wrong movement and scare me away.

Taking a moment to enjoy the sight—his handsome face, his awesome body—I place my hands on top of his muscular thighs and reach for his briefs.

Tit for tat. His breathing hitches when I pull the briefs down, freeing his erection so that it bumps against his belly.

“Fuck,” he hisses. His cock is thick and long. Powerful like the rest of him.

He groans when I wrap my fingers around the base and rise on my knees. His eyes dip from my face to my breasts and then down to my hand on him.