his tongue, the feeling of being dear to someone, made her want to get even closer to him. And tonight, they would.
She curled her toes into the carpet as she watched Ashton prepping behind her, the mirror affording her a front-row view. God, she loved the look of him naked. He was perfectly proportioned, with an easy strength and confidence in his own skin that was so damned attractive. And his cock was pretty great too.
He squirted some lube into his hand, then set the bottle aside. Stepping closer, he gripped her hip, then slipped the lubed-up hand between her legs.
At the first touch of his fingers on her pussy, she shut her eyes and let out a low moan. The way he caressed her there was so fucking lovely. Gentle, but sure. He smoothed the lube over her folds, coating her with the gel to make sure she was wet and open. His fingers teased her entrance and she sighed, her breath hitching when he found her clit and stroked.
“Please,” she whispered, shaking her ass to hurry him along.
It worked. With a groan, he moved behind her and bent his knees. His thighs pressed against hers, and then the head of his cock prodded at her. Their eyes met in the mirror and she sucked in a breath. His handsome features were stark with the intensity of his concentration, and his dark gaze entranced her. This kind of single-minded focus—on her—was a turn-on like no other. Then he pushed forward, filling her, stretching her. Pleasure detonated her thoughts into stardust. The lube and her own readiness eased the way, but he still felt impossibly thick inside her.
And so fucking good.
He had to rock himself back and forth a bit to stretch her, but when he was fully sheathed, with his hips pressed against her ass, she dug her nails into the edge of the dresser and hissed out a breath.
Panting, he leaned over her back and braced his hands next to hers. “Okay?”
“Perfect.” She thrust her butt back against him, and it was like that one move broke his control. His arm snaked around her waist and he began to thrust, setting a fast, pounding pace that left her breathless. The power in those thighs, the passion in his gaze—he was consuming her from the inside out. And all she could do was hold on for the ride.
“Cójelo,” he growled in her ear, and she just sobbed “yes” over and over in response.
Her entire world narrowed to his cock shuttling in and out of her, his skin slapping against hers, his harsh pants and growls, his lips hot against her ear whispering Spanish dirty talk. His hands moved up and down her body—rolling her tight nipples, squeezing her madly bouncing breasts, rubbing circles over her clit. She was a mass of throbbing sensation, originating from where he hammered into her. Just like before, her pleasure was his sole focus.
She loved it. She couldn’t take it. She never wanted him to stop.
When her limbs threatened to give out, he gathered her close, letting her lean on him. He held her up with his hands on her breasts and between her legs, and with the force of his straining thighs and cock. Their sweat-dampened bodies slid together, generating heat and friction.
Through it all, they watched each other in the mirror. There were no barriers here, nothing but naked, hungry passion. She’d spent so long trying to get past his walls and now she was in. What she found there rocked her to the core. She hadn’t been prepared, and now, with her emotional defenses demolished by the waves of arousal coursing through her, she was perilously close to the abyss at the end of the Jasmine Scale.
When her eyes tried to drift shut, powerless against the ecstasy he was building in her, he thrust harder and murmured, “Mírame.”
Look at me.
Ashton’s gaze was blazing hot, demanding that she feel everything he had to give and more. So she did.
Electric spirals of bliss flashed through her, and her cries took on an urgent pitch. She was close to her breaking point. This much sensation, this much emotion, couldn’t sustain itself. It had to crest, or it would consume them.
She reached behind her and gripped his thigh with one hand, reveling in the unyielding muscles, in the strength behind his thrusts. And surrendered fully to the pleasure zinging through her.
“Querida,” Ashton breathed in her ear. “Come for me.”
How could she do otherwise?
Her body tensed,