It was becoming clear Ashton was no amateur. As he paused I could hear my own pants, the sound echoing around the room, taunting me with my own need.
Pant
pant
pant
Ashton’s tongue swiped through the wet between my thighs and my back bowed off the bed as if lashed with a whip, pleasure coursing through every part of my body.
“Ashton!”
With every flick, lick, swipe of his tongue the heat within me built. I never thought it possible to feel like this during sex; to feel so completed consumed—devoured.
Ashton didn’t give me a second to breathe, pushing my body toward the cliff again, his hand coming up to roll my nipple between his fingers, the acute pain of his perfectly timed pinch making me squirm. I wanted to be closer to his mouth, yet farther away at the same time.
I can’t take any more.
Spots danced in my vision, the muscles in my legs trembling. Ashton sat up, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. His tongue darted out and licked his glistening lips. “You’re my new favorite flavor.”
“Ashton,” I moaned.
“The second best thing about dessert at home is hearing my name on your lips.”
He watched me and slowly removed his glasses, tossing them on the table beside the bed.
So I’m not the only one losing control.
His body between my legs, I watched in awe as he slowly rolled the condom down his length, his hand holding his cock tightly as he positioned himself. I knew what was coming. I knew Ashton wouldn’t want to hurt me, but I braced anyway.
The heat of him pressed against me, his hips falling forward as he slowly slid into me. But there was no pain—only an all-consuming feeling so wonderful, if I were to die right here, right now, I’d die happy.
“Fuck, so good. So fucking good. So tight, grabbing hold of me.” Ashton groaned, remaining completely still as I adjusted to him, his arms at my side holding himself steady over me, and I felt them shaking with the effort. “I’m not going to last.”
He thrust into me; deep, powerful strokes that forced me to climb higher and higher, his rhythm becoming wilder, more chaotic, until he screamed out my name, taking me with him.
“Elena!”
His body fell against mine, his skin slick with sweat. Exhausted, I lay in a boneless heap on the bed, my body a tangled mess of sensation, heat, and something else so alien that I couldn’t even put a name to it. Never—never—had I experienced something like this. His mouth. His tongue. The sharp nips of his teeth against my oversensitive skin. All of it too much, yet not enough.
The sound of ragged pants filled the room. When he finally caught his breath, Ashton reached up and pulled the tie from my wrists, taking each one in his hands, lightly rubbing the chafed skin, bringing circulation back into them.
The feel of his fingers was exquisite. My eyes drifted closed and I allowed myself to revel in his touch. Eventually I felt him leave the bed, only to return moments later. A warm washcloth dipped between my legs, cleaning me up. I smiled, thinking I could get used to someone looking after me, but at the same time hoping that I never did because then the feeling wouldn’t be so perfectly . . . right.
The bed sunk under his weight and he pulled me into his chest, settling my face into the crook of his neck. I inhaled, taking in his scent; committing it to memory. I opened my eyes and shifted but he kissed me on the head, his arms clutching me tighter, holding me against him.
“Ashton.”
He shushed me. I felt the heat of his breath against my hair.
“It’s been a long night for you, Elena. Sleep.”
So I did.
CHAPTER 13
Ashton
Elena’s body relaxed against me and her breathing evened out. But I was too consumed to sleep, my mind racing with thoughts of the enigma that lay in my arms. She was a paradox. Confident enough to demand my bed, yet submissive enough to relinquish control.
She was perfect.
I hadn’t been sure if asking her to submit would be too much. She’d come so far in the last month—asserting herself, making her feelings known. It dawned upon me that I might have set her back. But I wouldn’t know for sure until she woke up.
I’d started to lose control the moment she suggested leaving the restaurant. The curve of her hips, the fullness of her breasts . . . they had called to me for weeks. I wanted her more than I could ever remember wanting another woman. Most who claimed they could submit in bed lied. They either tried to dominate both inside and outside the bedroom, or they were submissive all the time. Elena was turning out to be the perfect mix.
Too bad she’s married.
Things were changing for Elena, but making the decision to end her marriage had to be her choice. There was always the chance that this was a fluke. That would be disappointing. She could be magnificent.