From the Ashes

18. Jade

Jade

I need Asher. I need him desperately.

I knew he wouldn’t respond to my messages while he was working, but knowing they were there and he would read them when he was done makes me happy. And unbelievably horny.

Not having sexted before, my anxiety is sky-high, but not enough to deter me from trying to get myself off.

Fantasies of Asher and I play in my head. Memories start mixing in, but I know that no matter how wet I get, how close I bring myself, I won’t be able to tip over the edge until Asher’s hands are on me.

Groaning in frustration, I look around for the time, and see that maybe—just maybe—Asher will be home soon and I can show him just how much I love him. Pushing myself out of our bed— our bed? Damn, Jade —I head to the bathroom and jump in the shower to relax. Today, despite how wonderful it ended, was also scary.

I look in the mirror, surveying the woman staring back at me. Her blonde hair is tangled slightly and falling around her shoulders, the light green tint of her eyes shines with happiness, her skin is clear and flushed rosy pink from earlier activities. But for the first time in a long time, I feel like I not only look sexy, but strong, too.

My eyes drop to my arm in the reflection, and I deflate at the sight. Five ugly, purple blotches wrap around my forearm, throbbing like a beacon of weakness and male idiocy.

I’m tired of being weak. I’m tired of men thinking they can touch me without my permission. It won’t happen again.

I won’t let it happen again.

I’m done being na?ve and small.

Reaching back, I turn the shower on and wait for the water to warm before stepping under the spray. I’m going to become stronger. Mentally and physically.

I’m going to stop being afraid.

“It starts today,” I promise myself. “I know who my real friends are. Who my real family is. I know who I am . No one else matters.”

The water runs over my body, and with each wave, I let my perceptions of myself flow right down the drain with the water.

It’s a new Jade. One that’s done taking shit from others.

* * *

Stepping out of the bathroom, clean and with a new determination, I’m toweling my hair dry when I hear something at the door.

Asher rips the door open and slams it shut, staring at me like a bull that’s been flashed red.

“Asher,” I greet softly, clutching the top of the towel wrapped around my body.

Instead of answering, he drops his bag at the door and kicks his shoes off roughly before charging towards me.

“Are you okay?” I ask worriedly, but the moment he’s closer, I can see the heavy need and desire on his face. His arms wrap around me tightly and he lifts me up, spreading my thighs around his hips. Without saying a thing, he starts walking me towards the bedroom.

His eyes…

They’re dark and hooded, hungry and happy. He’s staring at me with such need and desire, there’s no doubt in my mind that this man loves me. It’s like the thing of movies, of great romances that make your heart skip a beat. Something I’ve always wanted, but never thought I’d get to experience myself.

Leaning down, I press my lips to Asher’s. My kiss is soft and gentle as I run my hands through his hair. I know I’ve riled him up, and that some very satisfying sex is in my immediate future. But first, I want to show him how much I love him—for more than just sex. More than just his protection.

I love him so fucking much for all that is him .

His lips push against mine roughly. Hungrily. Demandingly.

I slip my tongue into his mouth, moaning at the taste of him, and he responds in kind. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, one hand threads into his hair and I pull on the locks slightly.

Asher groans, pulling back with his eyes still closed and a euphoric look on his face.

“Do that again, I like it,” he growls and gives me an incredibly hot feral grin.

“Oh, do you?” I smirk.

“I like anything you do.” He looks at my lips and we meet in the middle for a harder, deeper kiss. We move together, like we need the other to breathe. His grip on my thighs is tight, but I welcome his touch. I hope he leaves marks on me.

My towel slips, but I don’t move an inch to cover up. Instead, I let the fabric fall from around me. My breasts jiggle with every step he takes. Asher sets me gently on his bed and pushes me back. I’m laying down, and he can look at me in all my naked glory.

His normally light blue eyes are darkened, like a stormy day at sea, and gazing over every inch of my skin. It’s fucking arousing to see just how hot I make him, just how attractive he finds me. His dick is hardening in his jeans, and I see a slight twitch in his hands before he pulls his shirt up by the front of the collar.

In one motion, his shirt flies off and Asher throws it to the floor as my eyes take in the vision in front of me. I know I’ve seen him shirtless many times now, but it’s still a glorious sight to see. Broad shoulders, defined arms, a strong core, all covered with dark tattoos that compliment his physique instead of taking away from it.

“Your messages made me hard as a fucking rock, baby girl. I was working ,” he growls.

Breathing hard at his words, his gaze, his show of masculinity, I pout, “I know, Daddy. But I wanted you to know how much I want you.”

Asher hums, nodding as he unbuttons his jeans with an audible pop.

“Do you know how hard I was just imagining you fingering yourself in my bed? And then to hear you say it to me… I did everything I could to keep my professionalism when all I wanted to do was race home and fuck you senseless.”

“Yes,” I whisper, breathlessly.

“The last forty minutes were torture. But I’m here now.”

“You’re here now,” I repeat softly as Asher leans over me so his chest is touching mine.

“And I’m going to show you exactly how much I love you,” he rumbles with a kiss that leaves me dizzy. Pulling back, he trails kisses down my neck, over my collarbone and down to the swell of my breasts. Without a moment’s hesitation, Asher takes my nipple into his mouth and swirls the bud around, sucking it further into his mouth with a wet tug.

My head falls back with a moan and I lay flat against the mattress, letting him do with me what he may.

“Baby girl,” Asher growls, and our eyes meet. He’s looking at me through his incredibly dark, long, jealousy-inducing eyelashes.

“Yes, Daddy?” I ask breathlessly.

“Did you come without me?” he asks through the kisses trails down my abdomen.

“No…”

“Are you sure? Should I check?” His voice is that low, gravely, almost-a-rough-whisper sound that I am addicted to. Raising an eyebrow, he grins wickedly, like he knows exactly how wet I’ll be when he reaches down to my pussy.

I’ve been painfully turned on since I got here. Since Asher said he loves me. Since our kiss in the backroom that felt like it was going to go further.

“Yes, Asher,” I whisper, sighing his name in desperation at the feeling of his rough hands on my thighs.

“You’ve had a hard day, so I won’t get upset that you didn’t call me ‘Daddy.’ But remember it for the future, okay, baby?” Asher warns quietly, his warm breath tickling the bit of hair at my mound.

“Okay, Daddy.”

Asher slowly glides his tongue between my lower lips, as if he’s savoring the taste he finds there. I gasp, bracing myself as I anchor my hands into the sheets.

He pauses, glaring up at me.“You showered,” he growls accusingly.

I frown. “I wanted to be clean for you.”

Asher shakes his head. “I want you any way you’ll let me have you. Hair, sweat, whatever… It doesn't bother me. It’s about how you feel best.” His hands slide under my thighs, and he pushes my legs back so I’m spread before him. “You are fucking amazing, baby girl. Your pussy is so pink, puffy and wet, pulsing with need. Need for me . You need some relief, don’t you, baby?”

I need his touch so fucking badly. I’m shaking with desire at this point. Nothing but Asher’s hands on me—or his cock in me—will tame this desire.

“Please, Daddy,” I groan. My breathing is shallow; I look down the length of my body to watch him as best I can.

“I’ve got you, Jade. Daddy will take care of you,” he hums deeply. His fingers push inside me, curling in the best way possible before he pulls them out and plunges back into my wetness. My body curls involuntarily as he continues to fuck me with his fingers. I’m so close already; I’ve been on edge for so long that it doesn’t take much. Asher twists his fingers once more, and his free hand reaches up to my tit. When he rubs my clit with his thumb, right as his middle finger rubs against the wettest spot inside me, and he pinches my nipple—all at the same time—I combust.

Sparks erupt all over my skin as I writhe with pleasure and scream, “Daddy!” over and over.

Asher keeps working me through the orgasm. As I come down, he pulls his fingers from my pussy, spreads my legs that I’d unintentionally clamped closed, and licks me. His tongue cleans up every drop of my cum. He keeps going, and going, and going, until I’m too sensitive and have to push him away.

“Daddy, Daddy, stop!” I grab his hair and yank him up. Reaching as far down as I can, I grip his pants and push them down, using my feet when my hands couldn’t reach any further. “Fuck me, please.”

“Fuck you?” he asks, his mouth and chin shiny with my juices as he steps out of his jeans. He walks back, his shoulder dropping while he stares at me, standing there biting his lip. “Nah, baby girl. I’m not going to fuck you,” he utters passively.

Suddenly, Asher surges forward and cages me under him. He smells so fucking good and he growls in my ear, “I’m going to make love to you, baby.”

I moan, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and crushing our lips together. He pushes up and enters me with one delicious thrust.

“Fuck!” I cry out, my fingernails digging into his shoulders. I’m sure I’m leaving marks on his skin, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seems to really fucking like it, if his masculine groans in my ear mean anything.

“You’re so fucking tight, so warm, so wet .” His back muscles tense under my hands as he rocks into me over and over. He’s thrusting quickly, setting an amazing pace, one that promises I’ll come again far too quickly.

“Yes, yes, yes, right there, Daddy, yes ,” I whine, my eyes closing as my head falls back. Asher grips my cheeks in his hand and pulls my face down to look at him roughly.

“I told you I was going to show you how much I love you, and I am.” His quick thrusts change abruptly into a slower, deeper pace. One where every movement fuses our bodies closer together. Asher shifts so he’s grinding up and it makes his cock hit the front wall of my pussy. I shiver.

“Look at me, baby,” he demands, and I immediately follow his direction.

My belly tightens as I move against him, as much as I can from underneath him. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do I. The complete and total look of obsession in his eyes as he stares into mine says it all.

His movements stay steady, but deepen so that each brush of his cock against my G-spot brings me closer and closer to my next orgasm. His arm moves overhead so he can hold onto the headboard.

And what a panty-ruining sight it is. Asher hovering over me on his elbows, his body weight pressing down on me perfectly, his tattooed arm holding onto the headboard, and with each movement, his muscles flex.

I can’t help what happens next.

Reaching up, I bite his bicep. Hard.

Hissing, Asher’s eyes darken even more and his jaw sets to the side. I release his skin, looking up at him through my eyelashes, portraying innocence.

“Do it harder next time, okay baby?” he growls, fucking into me harder. My tits bounce with his thrusts. Asher grips my cheeks tightly, pulling my lips closer to his. Our breaths mingle as he teases me with a near kiss. Our lips hovering over one another, I can taste his breath, and I so fucking desperately want him to lean down and properly kiss me.

“Do you believe me now? Can you see how crazy I am for you? How much I crave you? How no matter what, I’m always in your corner? I love you so fucking much, Jade,” Asher proclaims against my mouth.

“I love you so much,” I moan breathlessly, slipping my hand up to the back of his neck and pulling him down roughly to get the kiss I’ve been dying for.

It’s like he loses all self-control at my words and my kiss, because his hips snap against mine quicker. We meet together kiss for kiss, thrust for thrust, moan for moan. With one last groan in his ear, I come violently.

“Fuck, oh fuck! Daddy! Please!” I cry out, probably hurting his ear from screaming so loudly, but Asher doesn’t flinch. My walls clench tightly around him, squeezing and milking him as his hips stutter. He falls against me, breathing brokenly and moaning just as loudly.

“Oh god, Jade.” He sounds like everything he had was taken from him. And I have to say, I feel the same way.

* * *

Laying in Asher’s arms after two powerful orgasms, having him gently play with my hair as his strong heartbeat thrums under my ear, might possibly be the most relaxing thing I’ve ever experienced. My eyes flutter as I fight against sleep. I don’t want this moment to end.

A tattoo on his bicep catches my eye. Running my fingers over it, I lean up on my elbow to get a better look.

“What does this mean?” I ask softly. Running vertically on his inner bicep, there’s a saying in another language tattooed in beautiful script. I can’t quite make it out—the ink is somewhat blown out—but I can see from a few of the words that it’s Spanish. He’s kept quite a bit of free space around the words, and my teeth have left indentions right beside it. Blushing, I run my finger over those marks too.

“ De las cienzas, ” Asher says fluidly, the words slipping off his tongue like he’s fluent in Spanish. My eyebrows raise in surprise, and he chuckles.

And oh my god, the way he smirks—with his eyes and the five o’clock shadow on his strong jaw, his bare chest and genuine laugh—I nearly combust with happiness myself from making him look so content.

“It means from the ashes .” He gently traces the words on his skin and I wait patiently, hoping he’ll tell me the story.

“It’s actually my first tattoo from someone else,” he reveals softly, with no fondness or excitement. Just softness. I don’t know if it’s a good story. Scooching down to tuck into his side again, I raise my chin to look at him as he continues. “I got it when I was nineteen, I think. I was young. Ty did it for me. He’d started saying he wanted to get into tattooing with me, and I offered to be his first test canvas.”

“You guys have been friends a long time.”

“Oh yeah. Ty and I have been friends since freshman year of high school. I told him I wanted to open a tattoo shop and he jumped right on board. Said if I opened it and got it going, he’d be one of my artists. And he’s helped me every step of the way. A few years ago, I told him that he was now a co-owner, as he’s put in just as much time and effort as I have.”

“Did you name the shop after the tattoo, or get the tattoo after the shop opened?” I ask and immediately wish I hadn’t.

Asher’s eyes drop and the lightheartedness in his expression vanishes. “A little bit of both, actually,” he admits. “I’ve had some bad things happen in my life, especially growing up.”

I say silent, letting him choose to share, but only if he wants.

“My mom… My mom struggled,” Asher began. “She had her own demons, her own traumas, and unfortunately, she put a lot of it on me. She wasn’t there when I was growing up, choosing instead to go get high or drunk and bring home belligerent assholes to fuck. All while she had me and my younger brother at home, barely making it by. I would do odd jobs for neighbors to earn some cash to feed us when she forgot to go shopping, or for when my brother needed something for school. I was the one who kept us from going to foster care. I did whatever I could to keep us together.” He breathes deeply, pushing the air out quickly. Asher’s not making eye contact with me, instead looking straight ahead, but his eyes are glazed over like he’s unseeing. He runs a hand through his hair frustratedly.

“One night…” he starts saying, but his voice wavers and I instinctively hold him tighter. Asher pauses to collect his thoughts before clearing his throat. “One night, she brought this guy to our apartment. I immediately ushered my brother into our room so we could barricade ourselves in. I tried to not listen—what teenager wants that soundtrack in their mind?” He makes a disgusted expression, pursing his lips and shivering with ick. “But I had to make sure the guy wouldn’t get any ideas about coming after me or my brother. So that night, I heard my mom start to fight back, screaming for him to stop and that she didn’t want it anymore. He didn’t stop. He pushed and pushed, and I… I was stuck. I didn’t know what to do. I remember being fifteen, trying to figure out if I should go try to protect my mom and leave my brother unprotected? Or should I stay with my brother and let my mom keep being hurt? It was brutal. I… I still have fucking nightmares about it.”

“Oh god, Asher,” I console breathlessly and climb on top of him, holding him completely in my arms. I nestle his face into my neck and he wraps his arms around me. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s been a long time. But my mom… she changed after it happened. She didn’t go out; she didn’t leave the house. She just drank, got high and watched her shows at all hours. She wasn’t ever there before, but after… after she was a shell, and I had one more person I had to take care of. Two years later, she left. Just up and left. One day she was gone. And I was relieved .” Asher’s voice wavers as he admits it. He keeps his face pressed to my neck, refusing to look at me.

He doesn’t want to look at me.

“Asher,” I say softly, tipping his chin gently to face me. “That’s okay.”

“How fucking awful am I?”

“You are the best person I know,” I insist strongly. “You were a fifteen-year-old kid .”

He huffs sharply. “I was only four years younger than you are now.”

“Does that really matter? You and I are different people, in different situations, and have gone through different things. You’re a good person. And you were put in a really shitty situation that no kid should ever have to go through. Growing up, I never had to worry about food or shelter. Or protecting a sibling. I don’t know how I would’ve coped if I’d had to do that. I definitely wouldn’t have done as well as you,” I stress.

“Jade,” he begins and I know he’s going to try that self-sacrificing shit, insisting he should’ve done more, been more, given more.

“No, Asher.” I sit up and put both of my hands on his chest. “You cannot take responsibility for this. You were fifteen years old—younger than that, even—when your mother started expecting you to parent and provide. You had to make an impossible decision and I understand. Boy do I understand the guilt and the regret and the what-ifs, but I’m telling you now: you. were. too. young.” I emphasize those words with alternating kisses to his cheeks. It breaks my heart when he looks up at me with those big, beautiful eyes, and bites the inside of his cheek like he doesn’t know what to believe. But he wants to believe what I’m saying. To feel some relief from the guilt he’s carrying around unjustly.

“Well, I leaned heavily on Ty and his family after my mom vanished. I was going to school full-time, and I got a night job as a security guard so I could pay the rent in our shitty one-bedroom apartment. That left just enough for some ramen and a gallon of milk after all the bills were paid. Something had to give—we weren’t going to survive like that. I didn’t let his mom know what was happening, but Ty saw that I had started dropping weight quickly. I had to make sure my brother had all the food he needed, so I went without. After I told him, Ty started sneaking food to my brother and I, and his mom caught him. Once she knew the situation, we started getting baskets of meals and whatever necessities they could spare every few days. I truly don’t know how I would’ve been able to do it all without their help. That, and…” He pauses briefly, like he’s hesitant to finish his sentence, but finally adds, “I also got into bare-knuckle fighting in underground rings a few nights a week. It was the only way to let go of my anger without destroying stuff.”

My eyebrows shoot up in shock. We definitely will be circling back to that.

He brings one of my hands from his chest to his lips and kisses my palm softly.

“I told Ty, when he first found out, that it felt like my whole life was on fire. Every single thing. And he told me that phoenixes rise from the ashes of tragedy and hardship. Something beautiful and strong is formed from something else burning to the ground. And I took that to heart.”

“That’s beautiful.”

“And heavy. After that, things got better. Slowly, bit by bit. My brother was old enough to get a part-time job. Ty’s family started helping us. My night-shift job gave me a raise. Little things like that, but all in a row, and I was able to get my footing. I started being able to save money and the moment I graduated, I applied to different tattoo internships to learn the craft. Still working nights, fighting for cash with Ty, doing everything and anything I could to earn money, six days a week. I was determined. Then Hunter turned eighteen and he was off to college, with the clear understanding that I could not help him financially at all. Again, I still feel like the shittiest human alive, but having him out of the house freed up a lot of my resources. That’s what helped me be able to open the shop and take a breather. Which I did, with his blessing.”

“You are not a shitty person,” I repeat myself, trying to push that to the forefront of his mind. I don’t like him thinking that about himself… but I understand.

Hunter… why does that… where have I heard that name before? My unconscious whispers, but I push it away. I can tell it’s going to become a nagging itch. Like I’ve forgotten something but don’t know what it is.

“You say that, and I appreciate it. But since the shop started taking off and I’ve gotten more stable, I’ve been able to give him some cash every here and there. He also knows that if he were ever really in trouble, I’d help him out.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Like the good guy you are,” I tease. He just proved my point.

He smiles and rolls his eyes, sighing heavily. “I guess.”

“Am I ever going to meet this brother of yours? Assuming you would want me to.” I tack the second part on at the end, and steel my resolve. No matter what, I will not let my feelings be hurt about this.

“Hunter is… well, I don’t know how to explain him without sounding like the biggest asshole brother on the planet.” Asher runs his hand down his face and I cock my head in confusion. “He’s not a good person,” Asher admits with a false laugh. “He’s not the kind of person I want to surround myself with. I don’t know if it was the trauma from my mom’s issues, my fucked-up parenting, or being left alone so much because I had to work—I don’t know. I tried to correct his behavior calmly a few times, and then once I heard him talking about some shit I won’t repeat while snorting the same shit my mother used to, and I knocked him out. Since then, we’ve kept contact to a minimum.”

My eyebrows shoot to my hairline. What the fuck?

“Yeah,” Asher groans. “Yeah. So, that’s my family. Drugged-out alcoholic, deserter mother, and a piece-of-shit, probably an alcoholic brother who can’t stand the sight of me. Good times.” Asher looks away, turning his head toward the wall that has his sketches pinned up and tucks a hand behind his head, moving his bicep near his face.

De las cienzas.

We stay silent for a moment because I honestly don’t know what to say. He’s upset and hurt; this hurt, I now realize, isn’t just going to go away. It’s decades old, deep and festering, and he’s miraculously pulled himself from such a destructive family cycle.

“You’re amazing,” I whisper, cupping his cheeks.

Surprise flashes across his features. “What?”

“You’re amazing,” I repeat. “You got yourself out of that shit. You stood up, stayed strong, and did everything possible—against all odds, I might add—to get to where you are today. Fuck, Asher,” I marvel with a smile, “can’t you see how amazing you are for overcoming all of that?”

I can almost see how my words aren’t computing in his brain. He’s looking at me as if he’s heard what I said but doesn’t understand it. Slowly, I trace his cheekbone with my thumb and lean down to kiss his lips.

“I’ve always wanted a tattoo, you know,” I change the subject with a coy smirk.

“You’ve said,” he replies. “Are you going to let me do the honors?”

“I don’t even know what I’d get.”

Asher’s hand slides up my back gently before his fingers tangle into my hair, and he flashes a knowing smile.

“Don’t worry, baby girl. I’ll think of something beautiful. Something worthy of you.”