Chapter Thirty
Victoria
He doesn’t waste any time. He steps into the bathroom, shuts the door, and locks it. His expression is pure hunger. His eyes glimmer with desperation. He looks like he’s a few breaths away from cardiac arrest or something equally as life-threatening—and it makes me feel so. Goddamn. Wanted.
That might’ve been my biggest holdup with enjoying sex in the past; I have literally never felt this desired by someone.
Asher continues forward with slow, confident steps, and I match his slow advance with a backward retreat, until my ass hits the cool sink.
He stops in front of me, with barely a breath of space separating us.
His scent envelopes me, transporting me to a cool mountain range, intensifying my need until I feel like I’m a balloon that’s about to pop.
“Can I touch you?” His request sounds more like a plea for mercy. For me to put both of us out of our agony.
I nod. Anticipation has stolen my power of speech.
I don’t know what I expect, but it’s not the featherlight brush of his knuckles along my exposed collarbones, or the hand that slips up my thigh.
“Do you have any idea… any idea how many times I’ve dreamed of this?” he asks. My next breath shudders out of me. “You’re usually so composed.” His hands move to my waist. “So smart, with an even smarter mouth. But you can’t even think right now, can you?”
I shake my head, trembling with need. I can’t think. My brain has dissolved into a puddle of desire. If he doesn’t do something soon, I’ll probably start begging. I’m trapped in a trance, waiting for him to make a move, already hovering on the edge of devastation over what I know he can do to me.
He hoists me up and sets me on the edge of the counter so quickly I squeal.
Even with the boost, our height difference is alarming.
I have to crane my neck all the way back to stare at him.
He’s so big everywhere, and as he inches between my spread thighs, an even bigger part of him presses against me. My breath hitches, and my mouth waters.
His hands slip beneath my skirt, trialing fire over my upper thighs. They hook over the edge of my panties, teasing the crease where my thigh meets the most intimate part of me.
“Please,” I breathe.
His lips slant into a devastating smirk.
“I know. I’ll give you what you need.” His lips slant over mine, nipping and demanding.
There’s no caution or tentativeness in his kiss, only raw, consuming desire that turns my blood into lava.
My legs wrap around his waist and my arms around his shoulders as I clutch him, holding on for dear life, needing him the way I’ve never needed anything before.
We’re diving headfirst into dangerous territory, but desire and passion aren’t known to heed caution. Only need.
He shifts his body backwards, only long enough to detangle my legs from around his waist, push my skirt up, and yank my panties down. Cool air brushes over my center, but it’s quickly suffused by heat as he cups me in his palm.
“Oh, fuck,” I whimper against his lips. His fingers travel a leisurely path up and down my slit, finding my clit with unnerving precision but denying me the friction I need.
“Already dripping,” he mutters. “Not so fucking prim and proper anymore, are you?” he pulls back, eyes filled with so much heat the temperature in the room jumps by several degrees.
“Your pussy is drenching my hand, sweetheart. Fuck.” His jaw clenches while I gaze up at him helplessly, eyes pleading.
One of his fingers slides into me. My back arches and my toes curl at the delicious friction, but he pulls out too quickly. I whimper at the loss, only to freeze when his finger prods at my mouth.
“Open,” he commands.
My lips part. His finger slides in, smearing the taste of my tangy arousal over my tongue.
I moan at the erotic, lewd act, then moan even louder as he replaces his finger with his tongue, kissing me so deeply I think I might pass out.
A growl rumbles from deep in his throat, coursing through me, making my nipples and clit ache simultaneously.
As if he knows what I’m thinking, two fingers return to my core and glide to my entrance.
He doesn’t ask permission this time—I’ve already told him he can touch me, and I’m willing to scream from the rooftops that he can do whatever he wants to me if he keeps making me feel this good.
“You know what you taste like?” I moan in response as fingers bury to the second knuckle, filling and stretching me. “Fucking heaven.”
His kiss deepens, tongue twining with mine, every movement filled with need, fervor, and so much passion I can barely stand it.
His thumb glides up to my clit, and my body tenses, nails sinking into his shoulders.
He hits that magical spot inside me, and my eyes flutter, stars bursting behind my lids.
“Not yet,” he mutters, pulling his fingers out of me.
He jerks me off the counter so abruptly I yelp and spins me around.
My hands curl over the edges of the sink, and I meet my eyes in the mirror.
They’re wide with surprise and filled with arousal.
I barely recognize myself. Lips swollen, eyes glazed, cheeks flushed, skirt bunched around my waist. I look so needy it’s almost embarrassing.
“I want you to watch yourself as I make you mine,” he says, his voice rough with need. He pushes down my top and bra, and my breasts spill out, tightening against the cool air. His finger tugs my nipple, and my eyes shut again.
“No,” he growls, fisting my hair and tugging it. “Look at yourself. Look at me. Watch.”
I can’t do anything but obey. When my eyes are firmly on him again, he releases my hair and snakes his arm around me. His fingers slide right back inside of me, thumb gliding a languid circle over my clit. My legs tremble, knees giving out, hips sagging against the cool sink.
“Oh, god,” I breathe. A knot of tension winds my core tighter and tighter, until I can barely breath. “Fuck, fuck—” He releases my nipple and closes his hand over my mouth, muffling my moan.
“Your sounds are mine. I won’t let anyone else hear them,” he snarls. “Now watch as I finger-fuck you until you explode.”
He does just that. His thrusts turn rough, almost jagged. I press my hips against his hand, moaning brokenly, tears swimming in my eyes. It’s too much and not enough in the same breath. I need more, I want him to never stop, even as frighteningly intense pleasure starts to pulse through my body.
“Now,” he growls. “Come.”
Orgasm would be too mild of a world to explain what happens next.
More like an atomic fucking explosion. Fire rips through me in searing waves, each more overwhelming than the last. My pussy convulses, my cries become so loud his hand barely manages to muffle them, and the sight of him doing this to me, undoing me, only winds me tighter and intensifies the pleasure.
Endorphins make me feel like I’m floating on a cloud in the atmosphere, while unbelievable pressure keeps me firmly rooted to the ground.
My strength melts out of me in one fell swoop—I’d fall to the floor if he didn’t have such a tight grip on me.
Keeping my eyes open becomes impossible. I can’t stop them from rolling into the back of my head as I shudder, shiver, and orgasm with such intensity I feel like my soul’s about to burst out of my body and fly away like a kite. It’s an indescribable experience. It’s sacred.
My descent is much slower than my rise up. My vision returns as my eyes blink open, and my trembling slowly recedes. My breaths are rapid and labored, breasts quickly rising and falling.
The way Asher watches me, like I’m the most fascinating and desirable person in the world, sets off several more convulsions. Once I’m completely wrung out and tapped, he slowly eases his hand off my mouth and slides his palm from between my thighs.
“You’re going to be the death of me.” He presses a tender kiss to my neck. A sigh of contentment escapes me. After a few minutes, he rights my top and pulls down my skirt. A frown draws my brows together. He’s done? But I haven’t—
I spin around, intent on returning the favor, but he stops me with his hands on my waist. “No,” he says softly. “That was for you. I intend to get mine later.” He presses a soft, achingly sweet kiss to my lips.
Who knew Asher Lawrence could be so kind? It almost makes me want to cry.
“Thank you,” I breathe. “That was…”
“I know. Me, too.” We stare at each other, mutual understanding passing between us. I don’t think normal people feel that good or connected during mere foreplay. I literally cannot fathom what actual sex would be like with him, but I can’t wait to find out.
“Should we—” I swallow. “Get out of here?”
He smiles at me, amused. “Trying to pick me up like a girl at a bar?” he kisses my nose.
“No, sweetheart. Not tonight. I’m a gentleman.
We’re going to eat pizza like the entire restaurant doesn’t know what we’re doing, and I’m going to drive you home, walk you to your door, and leave you with a goodnight kiss. ”
I bury my face in my hands. There weren’t many people in the pizzeria to begin with, but I imagine all of them know exactly what happened in this bathroom. Are we going to get in trouble for public indecency?
“You should clean up,” Asher says. “I wouldn’t want to gouge out the eyes of anyone who stares at you too long.” He leaves me in the bathroom with that silky threat ringing in my ears and one final kiss that nearly steals the soul from my body.
A quick examination of my expression in the mirror confirms what I’d dreaded. Whatever happens between me and Asher, I am already completely and utterly ruined.