Twelve
What am I doing? What the hell am I doing? This is a mistake. I’m gonna regret this. I’m gonna—
I snatch up Asher’s lips, swallowing his surprised moan and pushing my tongue inside, licking my way into his mouth. Both of his hands come up now, holding my head right where he wants me as his tongue flicks and curls around mine, a sensual dance that makes me shudder.
I should stop this. I should tell him to leave me the fuck alone and walk away. Will I, though? I plead the fifth.
All of my logic from before still stands. I know this is a bad idea, possibly the worst decision I’ve ever made. And it doesn’t mean I forgive Asher for the things he’s done. I can’t do that. But, you know what? I’m tired. Tired of other people calling the shots in my life, tired of letting them walk all over me. Isn’t it time I take something I want for a change? Finally be in control of my life, even if only in this small way?
Don’t think, just do.
Just once. It only has to be this one time.
“Jesus, Farrow,” he murmurs, tearing his mouth away to bury his face in the crook of my neck. His teeth dig into the skin there, making me cry out, before he licks a stripe all the way up to my ear. He sucks the lobe into his mouth, driving me crazy, then moves back down again, leaving hot, wet kisses all along my jaw and throat. “Your skin tastes like sugar. So fucking sweet.”
“This better not be another one of your games, or I swear to God—”
“It’s not. I promise it’s not. I want you, Oakley.”
Our lips come together again, hard and fast and brutal. My heart threatens to break out of my chest, head spinning as I try to keep up with his assault. Hands grab, nails bite into skin, teeth clash. I think one of us is bleeding, but I’m not sure which. I don’t think it even matters. We’re too past the point of caring, so high on the thrill and adrenaline that all that matters is keeping this fire burning.
“You can’t tell anyone about this,” he says against my lips.
Maybe I should be offended about him wanting me to be his dirty, little secret. But, I get it. There’s no way in hell I wanna risk my uncle finding out about this and giving him another reason to beat the crap out of me. “Trust me, that won’t be a problem.”
Asher pulls me tighter against him, our hips connecting, and a jolt of electricity shoots down my spine at the feel of his hard cock digging into mine. His guttural groan matches mine, the aggression and heat between us ratcheting up to near-scorching levels. Desperation takes hold as we grind against each other, both frantically racing for the finish line. His hands trace down my back, falling to my ass where he squeezes hard, the friction so damn good that I almost sob.
Then, he disappears and everything stops.
My eyes fly open, breath hurtling out of me when I see him on his knees, eyes half-lidded and lips parted. He looks so wrecked right now, and my blood heats at the thought of destroying him even more.
“What— what are you doing?” I choke out.
He swallows and my eyes track the movement, fingers itching to wrap my hands around that thick throat and squeeze, which is… unexpected. I have no fucking idea where that thought just came from.
“Tell me,” he pants.
I frown. “Tell you what?”
A flush rises to his cheeks, burning all the way to the tips of his ears. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, seeming uncharacteristically nervous for some reason, then tries again. “Tell me… what to do.”
My mouth drops open, more questions on the tip of my tongue. Tell him what to do? Then suddenly, it clicks. Does he mean— Surely, he can’t— But just one look at his face, the way his eyes plead with me to understand, confirms it. He wants me to take charge, to be the one in control. It’s not something I ever thought I’d be into - definitely not something I would have guessed about him - but, holy shit, if the thought of it doesn’t make me weak at the knees.
How do I even do that, though? Can I even do that?
“Open my pants and take me out.” Well, I guess that answers that.
Asher moans and rushes to obey, unbuttoning and unzipping me with trembling fingers. He pulls my pants and briefs down my hips, until my cock’s bobbing in the air between us. He stares at it, licks his lips. The brief flash of his pink tongue has a bead of precum oozing out of the head.
I rest my hands on the mirrored wall behind him and force myself to take deep, steadying breaths. I’m already dizzy and we haven’t even started yet.
“Stroke me. Get your hand nice and wet first.”
I have no idea if I’m doing this right, just winging it and hoping for the best, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
He licks his palm, then spits in it, before wrapping it around my aching length. The first stroke has my eyes rolling to the back of my head. My hand slips and I slap it back into place, knees threatening to buckle under the weight of my pleasure. Asher does everything I tell him to and loves every single second of it. When I tell him to tighten his grip, he does so with a whimper. When I tell him to slow down, he pouts but hurries to comply.
It’s a serious power-trip, seeing this big, broad football player on his knees for me, panting and whimpering just from jerking my cock. It’s a serious turn on, too.
I’m leaking so much that it’s dripping down the sides of my shaft. My balls are already tight, the threat of release just around the corner. I jerk my chin toward the wetness at my tip. “You’ve made a hell of a mess. Are you gonna clean it up?”
He moans, reaching down with his free hand to squeeze the bulge in his jeans.
Shit. At this rate, this is gonna be over before it even starts. “Open wide.”
The first pass of his tongue over me feels like an electric shock to my entire body. Our collective groans reverberate off of the walls. Asher opens his mouth wider, taking me impossibly deeper until his nose is buried in the hair at the base of my shaft, and I’m lost.
I’m no saint. I did my fair share of messing around at my old school, drunken fumbling in an empty bedroom at parties. But, nothing - nothing - has ever felt like this. Nothing could even begin to compare.
He chokes around me, his throat contracting and squeezing my length until I’m sure one of us is gonna pass the fuck out from lack of oxygen. Then, as if what he’s doing isn’t insane enough already, he reaches around and grabs my ass, forcing me to move. He wants me to fuck his face.
“Are you sure?” I wheeze, my control hanging on by a thread.
His eyes meet mine, the watery sheen doing little to hide the lust and need swimming in the green depths. It’s all the confirmation I need. I move from my hands from the wall to the back of his head, hold him still and start to thrust. I start off slow, but Asher forces my hips to move faster, then moans around me when I reach a punishing pace.
It’s fast, it’s brutal and it’s messy. But, so fucking hot.
He takes my cock like a champ, pulling off every few thrusts to drag in a lungful of air before diving back down. Jesus… his whimpers and slurps, the sound of flesh slapping together, it’s like our very own filthy orchestra. Not to mention the view. Seeing him on his knees, mouth filled with me, is mind-blowing enough. But, thanks to the mirrors, I’ve got it from every angle. My head’s on a swivel, not knowing where to look.
I’m so close to the edge, just a few more thrusts and I’ll—
“Asher?”
“Ash? Where are you?”
Voices. A few of them. They sound close, maybe just around the corner. Panic flares in Asher’s eyes and he tries to scramble away, but I hold him in place, keep my cock rammed down his throat. I won’t let us get caught - I wouldn’t do that to either of us - but a small, possibly immature, part of me wants to toe the line, liking the thought of Peyton out there searching for him, not knowing that he’s in here with me.
“Can you hear them?” I taunt, voice low. “They’re looking for you. They could come in here any second. What would they say if they saw you like this, huh? What would they say if they knew that their captain was on his knees for me, moaning like a damn whore?”
As if on cue, he lets out a garbled moan that sends vibrations all the way to my balls.
“You love this, don’t you? Love the idea of being caught.” He nods shakily and an evil grin slides over my face. “Touch yourself. Make yourself come. Let them hear just how much you love my cock.”
It’s like I’m possessed, some sexual entity taking over my body, making me say things and do things I never thought I would, let alone to Asher fucking Brooks, of all people. Or maybe it’s just him, just Asher that makes me this way, turns me into this wild animal.
He doesn’t even waste any time undoing his pants. He just shoves his hand under the waistband, eyes rolling back as soon as he starts stroking. Seeing him so blissed-out, so fucking gone for me, has me hurtling over the edge. White-hot pleasure barrels down my spine. My balls draw up tight and I unleash spurt after spurt down Asher’s throat. He swallows down as much as he can, the excess dribbling out the sides of his mouth as he moans and cries out around me, finding his own release.
By the time my brain comes back online, Asher’s back on his feet, his gaze boring into mine as he sucks his cum from his fingers. My dick jumps against my thigh, coming back to life already, and I sigh, unable to comprehend how we even got here, to this place where Asher Brooks has just given me the best blowjob of my life and already I want more. It’s… terrifying. We right our clothes and move toward the exit without a word.
I grab his wrist before he can get too far. “This can’t happen again.”
He smirks, cocky and arrogant and infuriatingly sexy. “See you around, Farrow.”