Eighteen
I shower and dress in some clothes that Asher left out for me. They’re way too big, practically hanging off of me, but at least they’re clean.
At least I’m clean.
Despite Asher’s thorough job of wiping away the blood, it still took almost five minutes for the water to stop running red.
When I walk back into the bedroom, he’s sprawled out on the bed, back against the headboard, with my metal box in his hands.
I scrub the towel through my hair again and toss it in the laundry bin. “You can open it, if you want.”
“What’s inside it?” he asks.
“Sketchbook, pencils, a family photo.” I shrug. “Nothing much.”
He quirks a brow. “You sketch?”
“See for yourself.”
He looks down at the box, traces his fingers along the edges. After a minute of doing that, he lifts his head my way again. “I want you to show me.”
Huffing, I flop down beside him and take the box from him, undo the clasp and lift the lid off. I lay each item out between us and wave my hand in the air. “Take your pick.”
To my surprise, he picks up the photo first. “Are these your parents?”
I nod, unable to speak over the sudden lump in my throat.
I look at that picture every night. Study the lines of my dad’s smile, try to remember the sound of my mom’s laugh. It was taken during our last trip together. We’d been driving for hours, trying to get to the cabin they’d rented for the weekend, but we were lost. Dad blamed mom for reading the map wrong, mom blamed dad for his poor sense of direction. He ended up pulling the car over and after a few minutes of them bickering, we realized we were in front of this beautiful lake. The water was crystal blue, glinting in the sunlight, the mountains framing it in the distance. We ended up spending the entire afternoon there and didn’t make it to the cabin until late. But, it was worth it. We were so happy. I remember that feeling every time I dig it out of the box, but for some reason, right now all I want to do is cry.
“Wow, you and your dad look exactly the same,” he muses. “Like twins.”
I never used to see it growing up, but now that I’m a little older, I definitely can. So much so that just looking at my reflection can hurt sometimes. We have the same chocolate-brown hair, the same hazel eyes, the same crooked smile. Same everything.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “We— we used to get that a lot.”
As if sensing how close my emotions are to the surface, he puts the picture down and picks up the sketchbook. He opens it up to the first page and lets out a rush of air.
“Holy shit. You drew this?”
I gnaw on my bottom lip, unbearably nervous for some reason. “Yes.”
“These are incredible.”
He flips from page to page, admiring each one for a few minutes before moving to the next. Each time, he gushes like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen. At first, I think he’s just teasing. But when I see the true wonder shining in his eyes, I know he really means it. I’m a little ashamed to admit just how much his praise affects me.
“Seriously, Oakley, these should be hung in a gallery or something. You’re gonna be, like, mega-famous one day.” When I don’t say anything, he turns to me with a frown. “You are gonna pursue this, right?”
I shrug, uncomfortable. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s just a hobby.” For the last year, any thoughts about the future have centered around making a good life for April and keeping her safe. Nothing more. I can’t tell him that, though. “I draw people, too.”
“You do? I don’t see any in here.”
“No, I have another sketchbook for that.”
“Where is it?”
“At my house. Hidden. Under a loose floorboard in my closet.”
The crease between his brows grows bigger. “Why do you keep it hidden?”
“Because it’s private.” I clear my throat, avert my gaze. My face is already heating just from broaching the subject. Shit, am I really gonna tell him this? “Some of the drawings, they’re… intimate.”
“You mean like porn?” he asks, voice rising in shock.
I chuckle and shake my head. “Not exactly. More like memories, I guess. They’re, um… they’re all of you.”
Why I’m telling him this, I have no idea. After what happened tonight, I’m feeling pretty raw, my emotions closer to the surface than I normally let them be. And apparently my tongue’s a lot looser, too.
His lips part, eyes going comically wide. His mouth opens and closes several times, no words coming out. I’m a little afraid that I’ve broken him until he finally finds his voice again. “All of them?”
“Yeah. Every single one. Starting with the day I first met you, when you shoulder-checked me in the hall and made me drop the stack of orientation papers I was holding.”
He ducks his head, a choked sound leaving him that’s somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “I was such a dick.”
“True. But even then, I knew you’d be important. That you’d hold some significance in my life. I just didn’t know in what way.”
The air turns thick around us, crackling and popping with electricity. Asher stares at me, moss-green eyes boring into mine, looking right down into the depths of my soul. My breath holds, everything inside of me stilling save for my pounding heart.
I ended things tonight. He was pissed at me for it and told me to leave. And while he might have let me back in, cleaned me up and gave me a place to crash, I can’t just assume that means we’re gonna pick up right where we left off.
Do I even want to do that? This wasn’t supposed to mean anything, just two meaningless hookups and—
Hell, who am I kidding?
“Asher, I— What are we—”
He wraps a hand around the back of my neck and drags me closer, before crushing our mouths together, silencing me completely.
Well, I guess that answers my question.
We kiss like we’ve been apart for years, like it’s the last thing we’ll ever do. It’s fast and frantic, every moan that slips free filthier than the last. Our tongues slide together, teeth clashing. Asher fists my hair, tugging until there’s a sting of pain in my scalp, then rolls us. He straddles my hips, his mouth moving feverishly. With the first brush of his clothed cock against mine, my body burns hot enough to combust. And when he starts grinding against me? It’s fucking on.
My hands dive beneath his t-shirt, fingertips exploring every inch of his warm skin, before I rip the fabric up and over his head. He groans, hurrying to remove my own t-shirt. Both of our torsos bare, he dives down and latches onto a nipple, sucking and nibbling on the nub until I’m crying out. He gives the same treatment to the other one, then moves further down my abdomen, his tongue tracing the lean muscle of my stomach before dipping into my navel.
When he reaches my waistband, he hesitates. Wide, unsure eyes meet mine. “Are you sure?” he croaks.
I take my time answering, letting my gaze travel over the miles of golden skin he has on display. I’ve seen him shirtless tons of times in the locker room after gym class, but never this up close. He’s… breathtaking. His defined muscles, his broad shoulders, the trail of hair leading down from his belly button. I take it all in, committing every sharp edge and curved line to memory, not wanting to forget a single part of him. And the heat he radiates… Asher is the sun and I’m helpless to do anything but be sucked into his orbit.
I nod. “Positive.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
Just six simple words, and for some reason they have me choking back tears. I paste on a teasing smile, force my tone to turn lighter. “Since when did you care about that?” When his face falls, I let my mask slip and cup his cheek. “I like the pain. We wouldn’t be us without it.”
He chews his lip, turning that over in his mind. “I suppose not.”
“You wouldn’t hurt me, Asher,” I whisper. “Not really.”
He kisses me again, this time slower and unhurried. Then, he tears his mouth away and pulls my shorts over my hips, before sucking me all the way down to the root. I moan, throwing my head back against the pillow, my hands white-knuckling the sheets. He pulls up for air, then bobs back down again, his tongue exploring my length as he goes. I let him have a few minutes of free-reign, before taking control just the way he likes, the words coming to me easier now, without thought.
“Deeper. Yeah, that’s it. Hold it there. Choke on my cock, baby. Let me hear how much you love it.”
He gags and sputters, saliva dripping from the sides of his mouth. My teeth dig into my bottom lip, the sensation of his throat convulsing around me making me see fucking stars. When I finally let him up, he’s groaning, his chest heaving as he tries to drag in air.
“Jesus, Oakley. I love it when you go all dominant on me.”
I love it, too. You wouldn’t think this would be the dynamic, just from looking at us. Asher’s this big, macho football player who could probably bench-press me in his sleep. I’m a couple of inches shorter than him, and a hell of a lot leaner too. If anyone were ever to find out about us, they’d all assume that he’s the aggressor, the one doing the taking. It’s so damn hot that that couldn’t be any further from the truth.
I tangle my fingers in his hair, forcing his head back down. He goes willingly, moaning as his tongue darts out to taste the sticky precum leaking from my slit. I thrust into his mouth once, twice, three times, already hurtling closer and closer to the edge, before I tear him away from my dick and haul him up by his arms.
“What are you doing?” he asks, that little line appearing between his brows.
I smooth it away with my thumb, using my other hand to drag his shorts down his legs. His eyes stay fixed on mine, his body so still that, for a second, I wonder if he’s even breathing. And then, he’s completely bare, every inch of him exposed to me. I fist his length, groaning at the weighty feel of him against my palm.
Asher’s breath shudders out of him. “Y-you’re touching me,” he gasps, eyes glazed over with lust.
This whole time, it’s always been him doing the work. Sucking me, jerking me. He’s always gotten himself off. I don’t know why, it’s just the way things have happened. Maybe on some level, I’ve been afraid. Afraid to worship his body the way I’ve always wanted to, not wanting him to catch a glimpse of the feelings that I’m so sure are written all over my face. But now, it’s time to change that.
I stroke him slowly, paying close attention to the changes in his breathing, the way he trembles and whimpers. My other hand reaches around to cup his balls, and he lets out a guttural moan.
“Fuck, Oakley,” he chokes out. “Please.”
Both hands on his ass, I guide him down until he’s fully on top of me, chest to chest. Cock to cock. They slide together, the combination of Asher’s spit and our precum easing the glide. The friction is… Jesus, I can’t even describe it. It’s enough to white-out my vision, send sparks of heat coursing through my whole body. Asher’s eyes roll back, his mouth dropping open on a long moan.
“Holy shit. That feels…”
“Incredible,” he finishes.
We rock together, grinding slowly at first before I speed us up, using my grip on his ass as leverage to control the pace. In no time, we’re back to the way we usually are: desperate, frantic. Our sacs slap together, cock heads knocking into each other, fluid dripping everywhere and mingling with the layer of sweat slicking our skin. Asher’s face is twisted in pleasure, his ability to speak limited to garbled moans and cries of pleasure. I grip his ass cheeks so hard that I’m bound to leave bruises, spurring him on, neither of us giving a single fuck about how hard the bed’s banging against the wall. We’re too drunk on each other to care about anything but reaching the finish line.
And just like that, I’m right there, about to explode.
“I want your cum all over me, Asher,” I say, digging my nails into the meat of his ass. “Give it to me. Give me your load, baby.”
He groans, ready to obey, but it isn’t until I slip a finger between his cheeks and brush over his hole that he goes flying over the edge. Ribbons of cum shoot over the both of us, Asher’s moan loud enough to rattle the windows. He drops his head into the crook of my neck, biting down hard on the skin there, all the while chanting my name like a goddamn prayer. I go off like a rocket, my release joining his.
Panting hard, he rolls off of me. I’m completely boneless, my limbs like jelly, the orgasm successfully wiping my mind clean and making me forget about everything that’s happened tonight. But as soon as the high wears off, reality comes crashing back in. And so does the pain. I stretch out, wincing as I do, every inch of my body aching. Of course, Asher notices.
“Shit. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m good.”
He frowns, but doesn’t call me on my obvious lie. Instead, he peels back the covers and climbs under them, ignoring the sweat and cum covering his skin.
And that’s the other issue.
He’s letting me stay the night, but where? Do I sleep here, in his bed? Is that a thing we’re doing now? Or is it a little too much for… whatever the hell we’re doing?
My brain feels like it’s about to explode from all the unanswered questions. Asher’s eyes fall closed and I debate my predicament for a couple more minutes before deciding to take the safe option. I’ll just sleep in a guest room, there’s probably hundreds of them in this place. Except when I get one foot on the floor, he’s grabbing my wrist and holding me in place.
“Where are you going?” he asks, voice groggy.
“I thought that—”
He huffs and moves over a bit, lifting the covers again to pat the empty space beside him. “Get in here, Farrow. Stop overthinking it.”
I roll my eyes, tempted to leave anyway just to piss him off, but find myself climbing in instead. I settle against the pillows, stilling when his big body wraps around mine, encasing me in his warmth. His arms are folded around my middle, face pressed between my shoulder blades, one thick thigh wedged between my legs. I couldn’t move even if I tried.
“Night, Oakley,” he whispers.
I swallow, fighting and failing to keep the grin off of my face. “Night, Asher.”