A growl escaped his throat. "Fuck that." He pressed a quick, hard kiss to her mouth. "Get ready for number three."
"Asher, I don't-"
His hand moved between them, and then she felt his thumb push between her folds, sliding down to rest against her clit. Her voice died because in the next moment, he thrust.
And she felt everything like a rocket-blast through her body. All the pleasure from earlier, plus the deep ripple inside her belly? It returned full force and she clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders.
"That's right," he rasped in her ear. "You fucking take that pleasure, sweetheart. It's all yours."
All she could do was cry out his name and cling to him as another orgasm exploded through her, fierce and instant. Every movement of his hips, every thrust of his cock pressed his thumb against her sensitized clit, and made her body explode with sensation. She lost all sense of where she was. Her world didn't exist beyond the hard, spearing thrust of Asher's body into hers, the maddening rub of his thumb against her clit, and his skin and voice all around her. She might have been biting his shoulder and crying out things like yes and please and more and right there and oh fuck, but it all sort of blurred together. He pounded into her furiously and she loved every moment of it, even when she was screaming his name.
And then, somewhere in that blurry abyss of pleasure, he stiffened against her and called her name out. And he murmured something like love and mine and then she felt his entire body tremble with the force of his orgasm. He pressed between her thighs hard, body stiff, and she clasped him against her and licked at the skin she'd bitten, and then he collapsed on top of her, and oh, mercy, it felt incredible. His weight on top of her was almost as much of an aphrodisiac as anything else. She loved it.
Eventually he sucked in a deep breath, and then exhaled. "Damn, sweetheart."
Yeah, she kind of felt like that, too. Wrung out. Depleted. Replete. Awed. All of the above.
He turned his face to hers and pressed a few quick kisses on her mouth. "Let me get a wet towel so I can clean you up. Be right back."
And then he was pulling his gloriously damp, sweaty body off of hers, and she felt a keen sense of loss. He could have stayed collapsed on top of her forever and she wouldn't have minded. Because in that moment? It was just him and her, and it had felt as if he belonged to Greer and no one else.
She'd loved it. She hadn't realized how hungry she was for it until it had disappeared again.
But he returned a moment later, his big body flushed, his cock still reddish and stiff. She propped up on her elbows, frowning. "Did you . . . did you not . . ." She let the question trail off.
Asher looked down and then grinned at her. "Well, that's flattering-for a change, I might add, since you love to stomp my ego." He winked and toweled himself off. "But it takes a few minutes for the works to go down. Doesn't deflate like a balloon."
"Oh. Of course not." How silly of her to even ask.
She made a noise that was more of a meep than anything else when he pushed her thighs open. But he wasn't going to try and wring a fourth orgasm out of her, it seemed. He gently cleaned her thighs and sex free of her juices and his own leavings. And that was kind of sweet . . . and it was weird that she was disappointed that there was no fourth orgasm on the horizon. Because really, she wasn't sure if she could take another.
But her body seemed damn willing to try.
Once she was cleaned up, he tossed the towel into a hamper and then slid back into bed. Asher pulled Greer against him and spooned her body against his. His mouth went to the side of her neck and he pressed a few idle kisses there, and his hand went to one of her breasts, cupping it as if to say I own this. And again, she didn't mind that at all. At this moment? She liked being owned and possessed by him.
"Greer, sweetheart?"
"Hmm?"
"Remember when you asked if I was either a liar or in love?"
Vaguely. Her mind was pretty mushy at the moment. "Mmm?"
"Did you decide which one it was?"
She thought for a moment. Her heart ached at the thought, but she willed it silent. "Pretty sure you're a liar." She felt him stiffen against her, and felt as if she'd said the wrong thing. Like she'd hurt his feelings. And that . . . sucked.
He hurt you, too. You can't forget that just because he gave you one night of good sex. You have to be stronger than that.
She didn't want to be, though. She wanted to go back to the starry-eyed girl who loved a wonderful man, even if he'd never noticed her. Because back then, she'd have done anything for Asher and she'd have never hurt him for the world.
"I don't lie about everything, you know," he said after a moment, and then smoothed her hair aside so he could kiss her ear.
"Mmhmm," she murmured, unwilling to commit to a response. Seemed like everything she said hurt him one way or another.
"Like when I said I'd have you screaming my name when you came? That definitely wasn't a lie." He nipped at her ear. "Though the biting was a nice plus. I could do with more of that."
Greer smiled and turned around in his arms to bite him again. Maybe on his nipples. Maybe there was room for a fourth orgasm after all. "Is it time for me to have my wicked way with you, then?"
"Have mercy, woman. Let a man catch his breath." But the gleam of challenge in his eyes told her that he wouldn't need long. This was good. Playful Asher was good. Playful Asher couldn't be hurt by what she said-or didn't say.
She'd just have to coax Playful Asher to the forefront a bit more.
Chapter 11
Greer woke up, completely disoriented, to light kisses on her neck and shoulder, and familiar fingers teasing her nipple.
"Morning," Asher murmured, pulling her closer to him.
"What time is it?" She smoothed her hands down his arms, fighting a yawn. He'd kept her up late last night, and she wasn't quite alert yet.
"Sometime after nine." He thumbed her nipple even as he leaned in to kiss her again.
She should have been back in Vegas already. Her phone was probably blowing up, and she'd missed her meetings, and her tight timeline was going to be shortened by another crucial day she didn't have and . . . she didn't care. Asher's mouth covered hers and when he pressed between her thighs, she opened for him and didn't think twice about phones or her father's wedding.
It was well over an hour later by the time they'd made love again and Greer had showered. She was still yawning as she wrapped a towel around her hair. "I don't suppose you have a charter plane on call, do you, Asher?" she called out from the bathroom, rubbing a hand on the mirror to see her reflection. "I really should head back soon. I've got a million things to do."
Even as she said the words, she hated them. For a brief, shining moment, she didn't want to go back to Vegas. Heck, she didn't even want to return to her own cozy apartment here in the city. She wanted to crawl right back into bed with Asher. It didn't even matter if they had sex again (though she was certainly game for it if they did). She just wanted to spend time with him, and to touch him and have him touch her back. To feel like someone in a relationship instead of a woman whose normally quiet life seemed to be coming apart at the seams.
Greer pulled the towel off her hair and stared at her reflection. She wore no makeup, and her face was a little raw around the corners of her mouth from kissing-and stubble burn. Her hair was a tangled, wet mess, and her eyes were red from lack of sleep. But she knew that Asher found her sexy. Strange and impossible, but would he be trying so hard if he didn't?
She realized that she hadn't heard his response to her question about the charter plane, and wrapped the towel tighter around her body and peeked out of the bathroom. "Ash?"
He had his laptop in bed, amidst the tangle of covers, and was typing furiously. An intense frown of concentration marred his face.
"Ash?" she asked again.
He looked up at her. "What? Sorry. It's just . . ." he rubbed a hand down his face and groaned. "More work shit. My new CEO has no balls. He wants to schedule another meeting with the department heads in EMEA."
"EMEA?"
"Europe, Middle East, and Africa. It's not necessary but he's emailing me wanting to make sure I'm on board with things." His head went back as if he was staring up at the ceiling, but his eyes were closed. It was the posture of someone completely defeated. "I'm going to have to be here for another day. Maybe two."
"Oh." She was disappointed, of course, but she understood. Sometimes business called, and he had a billion-dollar multinational corporation. "Of course. Don't worry about the charter plane thing. I'll just fly coach. Or something."