Chapter 15
LILY
Ithought I was dreaming. I thought Asher had come to me in my sleep to remind me of how good he can make me feel, so imagine my surprise when I wake to a sticky film over my lips, nipples, and pussy.
“Oh, you sneaky fucker.” I grin to myself as I slide out of my bed, Asher nowhere in sight.
Checking myself in the full-length mirror, I take in the dried remnants of what I can only assume is Asher’s cum just below my lip, and on my nipples.
My pussy, though? It’s a mess. Especially around my clit.
I should be mad, right?
That’s the second time he’s done stuff to me while I’ve been sleeping. There’s a very blurred line of consent here, yet all I am is turned on knowing Asher played with me while I was in a state of reduced consciousness.
Is he into somnophilia?
Does Asher Scott enjoy doing sexual things to unconscious people? Or just unconscious me?
I can’t say I hate it.
In my dream, I had an orgasm. Does that mean he made me come?
The first time he had his way with me while I was sleeping, he had his dick in my mouth, getting himself off, but I don’t feel like he fucked me or my mouth last night. I’m no sorer than I was before I went to sleep. I’m a little less tender, actually.
I am covered in his cum though, so did he… get himself off?
I can’t stop grinning as I take a quick shower before reluctantly getting ready for a day in the salon. Mondays are usually quiet, and it’s Bonnie’s day off, so I have to man the fort with the apprentices.
Once I’m dressed, I walk out to the living area to see Asher hovering by the open glass doors that lead to the backyard.
“You know, I really hope you filmed what you did to me last night.” I smirk as Asher spins, startled and wide eyed from looking outside. “I feel like I’m being deprived of all the fun you’re having…” My words trail off as I notice the envelope in his hand.
Shit… is that what I think it is?
“Where did you get that?”
Asher’s brows shoot up and he glances down at his hand and the envelope in it.
“Oh. I found it just outside here.” He bobs his head at the glass doors. “I was about to open it, but then noticed your initials on it.” He steps forward, his arm outstretched to hand it to me.
“Uh-thanks.” I take it quickly, spinning on my heel, giving Asher my back as I beeline for my bag and shove the envelope inside.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“Are you working today?” I try to steer the conversation away from the envelope, and I spin back around to find Asher frowning.
“Is everything alright?”
“Yes.” I offer him a nod and a fake as hell smile before moving to my coffeemaker. “So, are you working?”
“Yeah,” he states, not elaborating, and I nod, trying to calm the hell down before he picks up that I’m freaking out. “What were you saying when you came into the room?”
Letting the machine make my coffee, I turn back to Asher, eyeing him from my side of the bench.
“I wanted to know if you filmed whatever led to me being covered in your cum,” I say, hoping this will lead him away from my weird behaviour.
The corner of Asher’s lip quirks up in a sinful grin, and he shakes his head.
“Do you want me to record it next time?”
“Yes.” I nod. “I want to see the depraved things you do to me while I’m unconscious.”
Again, he grins. “Deal.”
“So, what did you do?” I relax my shoulders as this conversation takes precedent over the envelope.
I’m failing at keeping hidden the version of me I turn into when I step into the role of the Crimson Angel. I find myself wondering if he’d like to meet her. If he’d like her depravity. Her viciousness.
But who am I kidding? How can he, or anyone else for that matter?
The savage things I do so easily are sure to make even the strongest person cringe.
Would Asher see me as vile? Too sick to love?
It’s Asher’s swagger that pulls me out of my pity party and practically makes me froth at the mouth as he stalks around the bench and invades my space.
“First, I sketched you.” He cups my nape, angling my head up.
“Then I fucked my hand and came on your sheets. A little got on your hip, too.” His fingers move from my hair to graze along my jaw as his eyes drop to my lips.
“Then I painted these perfect lips with my cum.” He glides his thumb over my lower lip before leaning in to press his to mine.
Instantly, I’m lost. Asher Scott is like a drug to me. Hard to say no to and leaves me gagging for more.
He kisses and nibbles at my lips tenderly, before slowly easing back to speak again, leaving me a little breathless.
“Then, I took more of my cum and painted your nipples with it until they pebbled so hard that you moaned.”
Christ. His voice. The husky rasp and low tone of his British accent is intoxicating, causing heat to pool between my legs, getting slicker when he leans back to pinch one of my nipples.
“Asher.” I breathe as I arch into him.
“Then,” he whispers, “I painted your pussy with the rest of my spunk.” His fingers glide down my front to cup my aching sex. “You were so wet, Lil. Your body wanted me even in sleep. I could’ve slid my cock inside you so easily, but I didn’t.”
“Why?” I breathe, pressing my mound into his touch.
“I figured you’d still be sore. So I focused on this.” He presses his fingers to my fabric covered clit. “And I made you come.”
“Fuck,” I whisper a moment before claiming his lips.
My leg hitches around his waist and he grips my thigh, pressing the straining outline of his hard length against my core, and we swallow each other’s moans.
The blaring shrill of my phone shatters the bubble of pleasure we are in, and I groan, slowly pushing Asher back and shooting him an apologetic look before he reluctantly drops my leg and I slip free to get my phone.
That call is the beginning of a shit show of a day, with one apprentice calling in sick, leaving just me and the other apprentice, Joel, to carry the workload.
As much as I don’t want to, I leave Asher, rushing to the salon, not getting a chance to look at the contents of the envelope as I tackle today’s clients. It’s long and exhausting, and only gets worse when I take a quick toilet break to find a message from Alexander’s wife, Tamara, on my phone.
BITCHFACE HOMEWRECKER: Have you told the twins yet?
What the hell! Has she forgotten our last conversation?
LILY: No, Tamara, I haven’t. I said I will tell them over Easter.
BITCHFACE HOMEWRECKER: Why are you being so difficult? Just tell them.
This bitch. Who the hell does she think she is? And why does she seem more anxious for the twins to know than Alex? She said Melanie was sick, but surely Alex would’ve told me that. Something isn’t sitting right about all of this.
LILY: What’s wrong with Melanie?
BITCHFACE HOMEWRECKER: How dare you ask me that! Isn’t it enough that she’s dying?
LILY: I’m not trying to be a bitch, Tamara. It will just help me to explain the situation to the boys.
BITCHFACE HOMEWRECKER: Just get it fucking done!
I don’t even bother responding after that, knowing it’s futile. Tamara is a piece of work. She never backs down. Ever. She’s infuriating, and now I’m even more moody than I was earlier. The only thing that’s able to give me a spark of light is the message I receive from Asher later that afternoon.
ASHER SCOTT: I can’t stop thinking about you. The way you feel. The way you taste. Be prepared because I’m going to devour you tonight.
My head is in the gutter after that, and I start cleaning the salon early so I can leave as soon as the final client is done, needing to get home as soon as possible.
Because my day has been so testing, the moment I hear Asher in the kitchen when I walk through the front door, I charge through the house and lock eyes with him, standing in the kitchen, washing some dishes.
“Hey, Angel.” He smirks lazily, his eyes raking over me.
“Get on your knees,” I demand, and his brows shoot up.
“What?”
“You heard me, Asher. Get on your knees.”
He shakes the bubbles off his hands before drying them on a tea towel, all while keeping his gaze locked on mine.
“You want me on my knees?” He looks like he’s trying not to smirk, and if I weren’t so moody, I’d probably crack a smile.
“Don’t make me ask again, Asher.”
“Fuck,” he mutters quietly, taking a few steps forward. “Is Mummy Bennett in the house?”
My eyes turn to slits. “Mummy kink isn’t a thing, Asher. Lily is in the house, and she’s had a shitty day and has already asked you enough times. Don’t forget I’m a redhead. I have a fucking temper.”
Oh, man. His grin is from ear to ear as he takes in my words, and just like I asked, he drops to his knees before me right there in the middle of the kitchen.
“Mummy kink is definitely a thing…” he winks before saying, “Mummy.”
“Asher,” I warn, but he ignores me, looking up at me like I’m dripping in chocolate and he’s ready to lick every drop off me.
“And I will never forget that fine trail of red hair above your cunt. It’s sexy as fuck… Mummy.” He bites his lip like he’s picturing it, and I swear my knees weaken as I step forward, gripping his hair and forcefully tugging his head back.
“Call me Mummy again, and I’ll make sure you have blue balls for the next week.”
A growl rumbles in his chest before he grips the back of my thighs.
“I’ll stop calling you Mummy when I believe you don’t actually like it,” he hisses back, looking up at me, and I grit my teeth.
“Take my pants off,” I demand, and his lips spread wide in a wickedly sexy smirk before his eyes drop to the waist of my pants.
He makes quick work of getting them off me, and I’m about to tell him to take my knickers too, but he does it before I can demand it, tugging them down my legs and slipping them into his pocket.
“What now?” he rasps, running his hands up the back of my thighs, and I widen my stance as his dark gaze reconnects with mine.
I should be embarrassed about what I’m going to ask. Hell, there’s no way I could have ever asked Alex to do this. But Asher… he’s filthy in the best way.
“Eat me,” I demand, a little breathlessly. “Don’t stop until I come.”
The smirk that pulls at his lips is utterly sinful, and he shoots me another wink.
“Yes, Mummy.”
Before I can lose my shit at him, he buries his face between my legs and sets to work. His lips are warm, his tongue searing as he makes out with my pussy, diving his tongue between my folds before flicking over my clit.
I grip his hair tighter as my head lolls back and widen my stance to give him better access. I give myself over to the pleasure he so easily milks from me, grinding my clit against the onslaught of his tongue while his fingers dig almost painfully into my thighs in a tight grip.
All the frustrations of my day come soaring out of me the moment I explode on his tongue, my cries of pleasure filling the quiet house as he laps at me, not easing up.
“Asher,” I pant, my eyes falling to meet his, and he eases back wearing a shit-eating-grin glistening with my slickness.
“Yes, Mummy?”
My eyes widen at his nerve, but before I can say anything, he leaps up off the floor, gripping the globes of my arse, and hauls me up to wrap my legs around his waist.
“Now, my fiery Angel, I’m going to fuck you.”
His lips slam into mine and I melt instantly, my tongue lapping at the taste of myself on his lips. As we kiss, Asher spins and lowers my arse to the chilled surface of the stone benchtop, his kiss swallowing my gasp at the cold contact.
As we devour each other’s mouths, he works on freeing his cock from his pants, while I blindly tug up his shirt, wrenching it over his head when we break the kiss.
Before I can do anything else, he has his tip pressing against my entrance, and in one swift thrust, he surges in.
Throwing my head back, I moan as he fills me, my arms wrapping around his neck to hold on as he starts to pound into me hard.
“You like that, Mummy?” he asks, his voice jolting with each thrust.
“Fuck, Asher,” I pant, cracking my eyes open to look at him. “Stop with that.”
With the ferocity of his thrusts, it makes it hard to talk, but I manage to get the words out, although they fall on deaf ears.
“I can’t.” He grunts, his face contorting in the beauty of pleasure and pain combined. “When I call you Mummy, you get wetter.”
I gasp at his words, but I don’t get a chance to respond when he throws his own demand at me.
“Rub your clit.”
I tried numerous times to rub my clit while fucking Alexander.
He always told me off, saying we were making love, not masturbating.
His words always made me feel shameful. I’d only wanted to get myself over the line knowing he wouldn’t do it, but now when Asher asks and I stare into his whisky gaze, I know there’s no shame there.
Asher Scott is pure sin, and he calls to my soul.
Hell, he owns my soul.
I’m not sure when that happened or if it’s even possible after only a few days, but no one has ever matched my true black heart more than this man thrusting into me.
Fighting back any lingering shame, thanks to my pathetic ex-husband, I slip my fingers between our bodies and do as Asher asked. I rub my clit.
It really is a magical thing, the little bud that ignites my body by stimulating the nerve endings. The way my fingers work over the skin, setting me ablaze from the inside out, and Asher moans, probably feeling my extra slickness.
“Fuck, yes,” he rasps, his voice strained as his eyes drop from my face to where we are joined, and my gaze follows.
“I’m gonna come,” he chokes out, and just the knowledge of that shoots me over the line, and together, we soar.
Our cries of ecstasy are loud in my living area, bouncing off the walls as we ride each wave of ecstasy, and our bodies have only just gone lax when a voice cuts through the air.
“WHAT THE FUCK!”
A squeal flies from my mouth at the deep voice that booms through the room, and we both stiffen at its familiar tone.