Unfriended(Love in New Highland Book 1)(45)

Asher Norrell has always been large for his age. As a thirteen-year-old  boy he was already man-size, his voice already deepened. Over the years  he's gained breadth and definition and body hair and confidence.

Now there was no remnant of the kid about him. His smile was boyish, but that's it.

The man I knew now was bossy, confident, sharp, and even wise.

I hissed in a breath in revelation.

In a confusing way, he was more man than I was woman.

When had he grown up on me?

Oh, and his erection was actually beautiful.

I say "actually" because even in person, I didn't usually find guys'  junk that fun to look at. My one boyfriend had been okay, I supposed,  but his embarrassment about his own body had been a serious turnoff.

The only other live penis I'd seen was, get this, in a laundromat in the  village, where a strange fellow in Bermuda shorts flashed me. I'm sure  it was unintentional-at least I hope so. I winced for days afterward  remembering the way he'd lifted his leg onto the chair and … yeah. Let's  move on.                       
       
           



       

Asher is not winceworthy. It isn't about perfection, funnily enough. He  has flaws. Years ago playing some sport he'd managed to bang up his  hands, and they're pretty rough looking, some of the knuckles too big  and his fingernails scarred.

And … let's see what else. He has tan lines at his waist. He must have moles, scars, and unsightly hairs somewhere.

Yet he knows he's hot. His confidence alone is an awful turn-on.

Looking at him now, I personally thought his body was better than some of the male dancers Mom used to perform with.

Which was all very shallow and I shouldn't care.

But I did, especially now it was obvious that huge erection was for me.

So I'd blurted out that line about wanting to eat him. Stuff I would have bitten my tongue on before this.

This whole day had felt reckless like that. He was sweeping me up into something before I was sure I was ready.

And my bad, but I wanted him to.

His last, penetrating thrust had burned. And now the burning was, well, not gone, but overlaid with this shimmering delight.

It was all new to me.

All I'd had before was sex with Reggie. Ironically, I'd thought my  boyfriend was adventurous. Over the years, we'd done it practically  every way ever invented. Ever done it doggie style in a bathtub? No?  Well, you're clearly missing out. Ever been licked all over? Check.  Who's shaved a man's bush? I have.

All that sounds way better than it was.

We'd had sex weekly like clockwork. Reggie's interest was less about  attraction to me and more of a clinical thing. Literally clinical-he was  getting his PhD in psychiatry with a specialty in human sexuality.

Each week we'd use a different sexual position, try something different.  Every session lasted exactly one hour. (Yes, "session" is his term.)

At first I found it intriguing. Then I found it weird. Then I went along  with it because I'd concluded he was doing it as experimental research  and it seemed bad sportsmanship not to participate.

You wouldn't think kinky stuff like anal and bondage could be boring,  but yep, we managed it. Amidst all our games I managed to achieve the  occasional mediocre orgasm, and each time he'd roll away and start  making notes.

I found our sessions funny more than anything, but he didn't. So after  each session I tried to keep a straight face and answer his questions  candidly. I mean, I didn't begrudge him his area of interest.

But did I ever crave him … get turned on by his dirty mouth … fantasize  about him … anticipate ecstasy … yearn for his weight … feel taken care of?  Not even close.

All of that happened with Asher.

Asher Norrell, who teased me, debated with me, treated me more like a  dude than a girl when we hung out. The cheeky man who was now nipping my  skin and twitching his hips in those tiny, rapturous penetrations.

It was just surreal.

"That's quite a display of ego," I gasped out.

"It's not ego if it's fact," he said, and then he moved his hips in a smooth circle, and oh. Fucking. Yes.

Suddenly I couldn't process a single critical thought. He could brag all he wanted if he just kept moving the way he was moving.

His sparkling eyes said he knew what I was thinking.

"I like how your blushes start in your chest," he murmured, and  immediately my nipples tightened. His member withdrew almost all the  way, making a sucking sound, and eased forward in a thrust so deep I  moaned.

It happened again.

And again.

I heard a woman cry out.

That would be me.

More rotations.

Another thrust. Faster.

Oh, God.

"That's the way, Char."

His voice hardly penetrated, and when it did I didn't know what he was talking about. I didn't know much of anything.

My brain made a valiant effort to capture a mental picture of what he  did in my mind, to understand it on a technical level. All I got was  that he moved, that he used his whole body, that I was stimulated  everywhere, that he seemed to know what I was feeling before I did.

Everything was … great.

Like, if I believed in a heaven on earth, this would be that place.

In Asher's arms as he made love to me.

It was wild. Frenetic.

Other-worldly. A virtual reality come true.

I don't want to give the impression he was the only participant here. I did stuff, too. It was just, nothing felt deliberate.

I've always been fascinated by the concept of free will. How much of an  act is your intention and how much of it is just you along for the ride?

Right now, I can say with total certainty that nothing I did was  intentional. I embraced him, I fondled him wherever I could reach, I  moved as vigorously as he did, but the amount of it I did with conscious  thought?

None.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he huffed in my ear.

I blinked, abruptly aware we'd somehow relocated to the head of the bed  and one of my legs was hanging off, and I'd banged my shin on his night  stand.                       
       
           



       

"Ouch," I muttered, but to be honest the pain hardly registered.

"I'll make it better," he promised. He rolled us to safety without  separating us, and even that felt amazing. His hands on my ass were huge  and strong. We ended up in the middle of the bed with him on top again.

"You want another one?" he asked, while I thought, I love him on top.  Reggie had wanted me on top a lot, and it had started to seem a helluva  lot like work.

"Another what?" I slurred idiotically.

"Orgasm, sweetness."

Oh.

Yeah.

I'd been having those. One after another, delicious, incredible spasms, without even straining or trying.

Did I mention everything felt so good?

"I'll be straight with you," I managed. "I have no idea."

His laughter sent marvelous shivers through me. "God, you're sweet to fuck. So sweet, Char."

His tender words intensified everything I was feeling. "You are, too. You're wonderful, Asher."

"All grown up?"

My laugh was also a sob. "Yes."

"Good. How sore are you?"

"Zero sore." I felt no soreness. All was bliss.

"Then it's all right if I keep going in your beautiful … wet … pussy?" Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.

"Yes. Yes, oh, yes. Keep. Going. Do whatever you want. To me."

I wiped my sweaty brow and gave a greedy sigh as he started to move again. I never wanted this lovemaking to end.



Asher



FUCKING CHAR WAS OFFICIALLY the most fun I'd ever had in my life.

I should have known my girl would give her all to this. It was like wrestling with her, only a zillion times better.

I was way off about the inhibitions, by the way.

She threw herself into fucking with a complete lack of restraints. She  sweated, heaved, moved like an angel on steroids. Her body twisted with  lithe, sexy grace-like she had more than a little of her mother's dancer  in her.

It was hard to be gentle. Not just because she was taking an athletic  approach here, but the things she did. Like turning her head and using  her teeth on my arm. That made me forget how new her pussy was to this  kind of workout and pull out all the stops.

No way she wouldn't be sore from this, but I didn't spare her. This was  too good. And some of it was ego. I wanted to show her what she'd been  missing. That what she'd called a relationship before had been pathetic,  that I could give her what she needed. That we'd be incredible  together.

What was funny was that I showed myself, too. This connection was what  I'd been missing, even with Aura when the sex was volcanic.

My cock took Charis and I knew her.

I kissed Charis and I knew her.

It was some weird kind of time travel, where I was in the moment, and I  was also in the past and the future. Being with the girl I'd known and  being with the woman she'd become and setting precedent for the days  that would be.

Gradually the present won and all there was was the ecstasy of her pussy contracting around me, over and over again.