He walked towards me. Unlike me, Asher still wore his regular clothes: khakis and a casual, button-down shirt. Kneeling to pick up the book, he inspected it, then smiled.
I stared at him, confused, and pulled the blankets up higher, covering myself completely. I wanted to look sexy, but that was when I thought I was alone, and now… I didn’t really know what I wanted to do.
“This is a good one,” he said. “Have you read the first? I like the second part of the series more, the three books after the first three, but the first three are great, too.”
“I haven’t,” I said. “It looked interesting, though. I like her dress.”
“Ah, Phedre, yes,” he said. “She’s an interesting character.”
“She seems kind of slutty,” I said without thinking. “I haven’t gotten very far, but…” My words trailed off.
“Maybe she is in some ways.” Asher shrugged, grinning. “I think she’s very open with herself, too. Also, there’s religious reasons, somewhat. It’s a strange book, but interesting.”
“Religious reason to be a slut?” I asked, laughing.
“Yes, of course. Shall I go into a long rant about—” While he spoke, he sat on the couch next to me. Kicking off his shoes, he lifted up the blanket and settled in beside me.
My God. I stared at him, frozen. He looked at me, nonchalant, completely confused at my sudden hesitation. As I backed away from him slightly, inching towards the arm of the couch until my back pressed against it, Asher reached beneath the blanket to put his hand on my thigh.
Some calming gesture, no doubt. I needn’t be afraid, this was some conversation between two friends. Little did he know, I had nothing covering my thigh. Also, he misjudged and reached quite a bit farther up. His hand touched down against the very top of my thigh, his pinky finger brushing against the cloth of my babydoll’s g-string and settling in right next to my lower lips. I think it dawned on him that something was off right about the time my face burned bright red, but his hand never moved.#p#分页标题#e#
Asher froze. “You’re not wearing pants,” he said.
“I changed into pajamas.”
He furrowed his brow. “This doesn’t feel like pajamas.”
His fingers wiggled slightly, his pinky finger tweaking my intimate lips back and forth, faintly touching my clit and sending a shiver through my body.
Shocked, surprised, Asher tossed off the blankets and looked at his hand. I bit my lower lip, embarrassed at the pleasure he gave me, never wanting or expecting this to happen. Or, at least I never expected it, and I pretended not to want it.
“That’s… a nice outfit…” he said slowly.
“Um, Asher?” I said. His hand, still not moving away. I glanced down at it, then back to him.
“Yes? Oh, uh… uh…” He pulled his hand away, thrust it into his lap. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize. Where did you get that? What the hell did Jeremy buy you? I’m so sorry.”
“It’s alright. It wasn’t your fault.” I lay there, lewd and on display, not sure what to do.
Asher pulled the tossed blanket off the floor and placed it on me, covering my legs and lower body. “Well,” he said.
“Well,” I agreed.
We made out. Asher dove on top of me, throwing the blankets aside once more. Surprised at first, I shook out of it fast. He practically smothered me, pressed his body against me, his lips seeking mine. His hand grabbed my breast and he groped and squeezed it and his knee settled between my spread legs. He kissed me hard and I reveled in it, kissing him back. His soft, sensuous lips, so smooth and light yet hard and yearning. I didn’t know what came over him, but it was so obvious that right now he wanted me.
I desperately wanted him, too. I pulled him closer, tugged at his shirt. I undid some of the top buttons, wanting to strip him of his clothing, but he pulled my hands away.
“No,” he said. “No, let’s…”
He never finished his words, but his lips spoke volumes. He pressed into me, onto me, his whole body covering me like his mouth covered mine. Desperate, gasping, as if there was only a limited amount of me and he wanted to take it before I vanished. His hand squeezed my breast harder while his other hand swept lower. Down my side, to my stomach, lifting up the skirt of my babydoll to the thin fabric barely concealing my crotch. He pulled at the strings and my thong dug into my sensitive skin.
I squirmed, caught up in the pleasure of it. Of him, his kiss, his touch. All my feelings manifested into one ecstatic lump that settled into the center of my being and radiated warmth. I wanted him to take me like he’d taken me before, with reckless abandon and unadulterated passion. I wanted him to forget Beatrice and remember me, and…