Chapter 21 #2
Eating lunch with the twins home is nice.
I’ve missed them dearly, and to have Asher here is great, too.
All except the way he gazes at me when the twins aren’t looking.
It’s the sneaky wink. The press of his lips as he blows me a discreet kiss.
The way his eyes roam up and down my body when I walk past.
Then there’s the subtle contact he makes.
Like in the kitchen, doing the dishes, he passes me a plate to dry, and he deliberately brushes his fingers over mine.
Or when he walks past and pinches my arse while the twins are busy arguing over who should have control of the remote.
Or then there was his foot gliding up the inside of my thigh when he sat across the table from me.
He can see how uneasy I am about it. But he can also see how turned on I am.
The day has been long, and I spend some of my time worrying over telling the twins about their dad having a daughter. I told Tamara I’d tell them, even though I feel like I’ve been manipulated into it, but I know it has to be done.
Not today, though. Maybe I’ll wait until Sunday night, or maybe even Monday, before they go back to campus.
It’s late afternoon when we congregate in the living room to watch a movie. Given the situation between me and Asher, I decide to keep distance between us, and take the armchair while he and the twins fight over the couch and beanbags with the best view of the TV.
I can’t even recall what the movie is the boys put on, because in the blink of an eye, I fall asleep.
Dreams of Asher invade my mind, reliving our time in the bedroom last night when he taught me yet another thing I didn’t know I liked. Even in sleep, Asher assaults my libido, flicking it on like a switch, sending needy heat over my body.
The feel of his head between my legs and the searing press of his tongue against my clit are as real here in my dreams as they are in real life, and I chase his touch, desperate for more.
The press of a hand over my mouth startles me awake, my lids flying open, wide with confusion.
Instantly, they lock onto Asher, his head between my legs as his dark gaze bores into mine with the intensity of a freight train. I relax momentarily, knowing how much Asher enjoys having his way with me while I sleep, but then the sound of the TV reminds me where I am.
Sitting up abruptly, I’m ready to shove Asher off me, but he pushes me back down, pressing his finger to his lips.
“Shhh.”
I glance around the room frantically, finding the twins sound asleep. One on the couch, facing the other way, and the other on the floor, mouth open as he drools, facing the TV.
“Ash,” I whisper. “No. Stop.”
He shakes his head between my thighs, shifting his hand to part my legs wider before he slides three digits in.
A gasp catches in my throat, and I practically see stars as he attacks my senses with the full force of knowing he’s going to be getting me over the line fast with this technique.
How, in such a short time, has he figured out what my body wants and needs faster than I ever have?
Unable to stop myself, I roll my hips, pushing forward to suck his fingers into me as far as they can go, and I grind my clit against his tongue.
The whole scenario shouldn’t be having this effect on me. Not when my sons are only a number of feet from us, but I’m high as a kite. I’m desperate. In need. Practically frothing at the mouth to ride this high until I crash.
And I do crash, really fucking hard and fast.
The orgasm slams into me without warning, and a loud gasp flies from me before I can stop it. Shoving the back of my wrist into my mouth, I hold my breath as each wave crashes over me in a tumble of explosions.
It seems to last forever, and I should be concerned when I realise I can’t hear anything, and the edges of my vision begin to darken.
“Breathe, Angel,” Asher whispers against my ear, and it’s like he has control over my body, his command opening my throat to suck the much needed air into my lungs.
“Shit,” I whisper when my vision clears, and see Asher wearing a shit-eating-grin as he rights my knickers and tugs my dress back down over my legs.
It takes me a minute to comprehend what just happened, and then my well-fucked expression turns to anger.
Shoving Asher back, I stand abruptly as he falls back on his arse, and I storm out of the living area, down the back hallway, and into the laundry room.
My ears pick up Asher’s footsteps behind me, and I turn to face him as he steps inside with me, before I pull my arm back and slam my fist into his face.
The pain in my knuckles is welcome, and if I thought my hit would deter Asher, then I was dead fucking wrong.
His tongue darts out to lick over the small split in his lower lip, and his gaze darkens.
“Woman, you are only making me harder. Do it again.”
“Asher. Stop!” I hiss through gritted teeth, and he smirks, shaking his head as he steps forward, caging me against the washing machine.
“I’ll never stop worshipping you, Lily. Save your breath.”
I shove him, but he holds strong.
“You shouldn’t have done that. Not there with the twins right next to us.”
He shrugs. “They weren’t gonna wake up. They’re beat from going to a party last night. You know how heavily they sleep.”
“That’s not the point.” I glare at him, and still he gives me a lazy smirk before flicking his tongue out and running it over his lips like he is tasting something.
Is everything a game to him?
“Asher, I don’t want to do those things while they are right there.”
“Wanna taste?” he asks, ignoring my words, and I frown, looking back to his lips. “You’re like a sweet treat. Delectable and worth savouring.”
“Christ,” I mutter, and he leans in to claim my lips.
I do taste myself on him, and all it does is rile me up again, filling me with a need I can’t seem to sate for long when he’s around.
My surroundings come back to me, reminding me to pull my head in and take control of the situation, so I push him away, breaking our kiss.
“You need to behave!” I point sternly at him, and still he smirks. “I mean it, Asher. Stop trying to fool around with me while my sons are there. You think it’s just a game, but it’s not. It’s real and could destroy my family.”
His smirk falls. “Fuck.” He takes a step back. And then another.
My heart sinks.
What I said to him is a very real possibility, yet as he backs away, I can’t help but ache for him to come back. It has nothing to do with the insatiable bitch between my legs. It’s more than that, and for the first time I recognise the feeling for what it is.
My heart wants him, yet there’s no reality where we can be together like that. We can never go out on dates, attend barbeques as a couple, get married, and, hell, even have kids together.
Heat pricks at the back of my eyes. I should let him go. Retreat. Keep my distance… yet I can’t.
Stepping forward, I reach out into the hallway and clutch his shirt, hauling him back inside with me, claiming his lips.
He comes to me willingly, our lips locking with a different kind of desperation. One that screams and yells, yet no one but the two of us can hear it. It’s brutal and heartbreaking and hell… it’s everything.
“I’m sorry.” Asher breathes into my mouth as he starts to pull back. “I know this isn’t a game. I just get so consumed with need when I’m around you. It won’t happen again.”
We pull back only far enough to press our foreheads together and peer into each other’s eyes.
“It doesn’t mean I don’t want you,” I tell him, a tear finally springing from my eye. “Because I do, Asher. So bad. But my sons…”
“I know,” he rasps quietly, his thumb coming up to catch my tear before he leans back and tastes it on his digit.
“This isn’t fair to you.” I shake my head, feeling ashamed that I’m asking so much of him, knowing I’ll never be able to give him more than this.
I’m pretty sure my heart cracks in that moment. Breaking at the thought of never having what I truly want.
A life with Asher Scott.