not to when you share a room with someone—but let me tell you, context is everything. The hard planes of his stomach, the curve of his shoulders, the sexy V at his waist? They’re all on display, and it feels like I’m taking them in for the first time.
I stare unabashedly at him, licking my lips like a hungry cartoon character. My eyes are probably bugging out of my head a little too, and he chuckles softly as he shucks his pants and crawls up onto the bed with me. He left his boxer briefs on; I can see the bulge of his cock straining at the fabric. I remember what it felt like in my mouth, what it tasted like, and my clit throbs hard, needing more attention already.
As he crawls up my body, I start to sit up to reach for him, but he puts a gentle hand on my sternum and presses me back down. “Let me, Elle. Let me take care of you, okay?”
Oh geez. He’s got this soft but commanding thing going on that makes me want to do anything he says.
So even though it kind of kills me, I let my body relax back onto the comforter, gazing up at him and waiting. For a second, he just looks at me, like he’s trying to take a picture with his brain, to imprint this moment in his memory so completely that he’ll never forget it.
The intense focus makes me squirm.
Normally, I’m not great with this kind of vulnerability, but this feels… good. It’s like how a little bite of the right kind of pain only enhances pleasure; his gaze is lighting a fire inside me, making me burn for him.
I keep waiting for him to take pity on me and move this along a little faster, but of course, he doesn’t. Instead, he undresses me with deliberate movements, his green eyes growing darker with each layer of clothing he removes. And every inch of skin he uncovers is a new playground for him to explore, a new part of me for him to worship. His hands and mouth and teeth work their way over my body, and I try to stay still, I really do—but by the time he hooks his fingers around the sides of my panties and draws them down my legs, I’m shaking from head to toe.
My earlier orgasm is forgotten, and my clit is trying very hard to convince me it might die if it doesn’t feel his mouth soon.
I hear you, girl. I fucking hear you.
“Asher! Goddamn it,” I rasp out as he traces a line with his tongue from my belly button to my pubic bone. “I always thought Dmitri was the dick. But I was wrong. It’s you.”
I can’t see it, but I feel his smile against my skin.
Oh, he really is an asshole.
But before I can sit up and demand he put me out of my misery or flip our positions and see how he likes getting worked over till he’s a quivering mess like this, his hot mouth settles over my clit, and his tongue lashes back and forth in broad, quick strokes.
Oh, did I say asshole? Forget that. He’s a fucking saint. A god.
My hands fly to his head, clenching his hair not-at-all gently as the tension he’s been slowly building within me breaks, and I fly apart for the second time tonight.
His tongue dips lower, thrusting into me as aftershocks ripple through my body, and I know he can feel my pussy clenching around him. He works me through the very end of my orgasm, drawing it out and making it feel like it goes on forever. Then he pulls away, pressing soft kisses to the insides of my thighs, which send small jolts of energy through me.
My heart is pounding hard in my chest, and I think I’ve got a little sheen of sweat going, which is sort of ridiculous considering all I’ve been doing is trying to lie still.
Asher lifts his head to meet my gaze, and I purse my lips at him, trying not to grin. “Okay, maybe you’re not so bad.”
He laughs then crawls up my body until he’s hovering over me, just a few inches of space between us. I can feel the hardness of his cock against my lower belly, feel the little damp spot where precum has soaked through his boxer briefs.
I guess if he’s been torturing anyone here, it’s mostly been himself. I’ve already come