Ashlei #4
I swallow those words like knives, letting them shred permanent marks into my throat on the way down. But, despite how they hurt, despite how hard I know it will be, there’s only one thought on my mind. Only one thing matters.
So, I lean in again, my lips touching his as I repeat my plea.
“Touch. Me. Again.”
Then, I bite his thick lower lip, pulling it between my teeth and sucking before I release it with a pop.
Brandon full on growls, bending just enough to palm the back of my thighs and lift me. My back hits the glass, my throbbing middle presses against his solid bulge, my ankles clasp behind him, and his lips finally claim me — all of me — regardless of what he said.
I’m already his.
The burst of want that surges through me with his lips on mine is palpable, like the hot lick of a flame held only inches from my skin.
I feel it crawl over every centimeter of my body, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
Everything I remembered — the feel of him, the taste, the smell — it all crashes back over me like the sweetest burn.
Brandon pulls his lips away long enough to rip the tie loose from my robe.
I tug it off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor before my arms are back around his neck, pulling him closer, needing his mouth on mine again.
He kisses me for just a second before his lips travel down, down, over my neck, my collarbone, to the gentle swell of my breast. One finger pulls the top away, his tongue flicking in to brush my nipple as I arch into him, and then his arms are around me again.
He lifts me, tossing me to the bed as if I weigh nothing, and with his eyes still on me, he slowly unbuttons his shirt.
“Take that off,” he says, glancing at my top.
I sit on the bed, knees clenched together to fight the release already building as I watch him undo his shirt.
Each button reveals a new sliver of his hard abdomen, and I keep my eyes there as I reach back for the clasp of my top.
Once it’s unsnapped, I pull the tie around my neck, and my breasts spring free just as Brandon tugs his shirt down off his shoulders.
He inhales deep, his tongue sneaking out to lick his lower lip as he stares unabashedly at my exposed chest. His hard-on twitches under his shorts, and his hands immediately move there next, flicking the button and pulling the zipper down in one fluid motion.
“That, too,” he says, nodding to the bottom half of my bikini.
He lets his shorts fall to his ankles, tugging his briefs off next before kicking them both to the side.
And then, Mr. Church is gloriously naked, and gloriously hard — all for me.
I bite my lip, lying back on the bed and lifting my hips enough to slowly strip my bottoms down my legs. Then, I peel them off one ankle, letting them hang on the other as I lean back on my elbows and spread my legs for him.
Brandon lets out a pained breath, one hand stroking his impossibly hard erection as he stares at the wet pool between my thighs. I watch his hand roll over his shaft, his fist tightening over his mushroom tip before pushing down again.
“This is such a bad idea,” he rasps.
“The worst,” I moan in return, shifting my weight to one elbow. I use my free hand to spread my lips, letting my head fall back as I slip one finger inside me.
“We should stop.”
My head pops up at that. “Damn it, Mr. Church, touch me. Now.”
And it’s then that I see the power he was talking about, like I hold the handle to a leash tied around his neck. He jolts forward, one hand lifting me from the small of my back until he’s between my legs, balancing on his elbows over me, my lips kissing down his shoulders.
There’s no warning, no foreplay, no fingers or mouths on either of us. Just one slip of his hand between us, lining him up with my entrance, and then he thrusts inside me — hard and greedy and relentless.
“Fuuuuck,” he groans, stopping once he’s filled me all the way. My legs tighten around him, my nails scratching down his back to give him some of my pain. “I thought I had just imagined how tight you were.”
He withdraws, flexing in again and finding new depth somehow. Each new flex of his hips has our breaths coming harder, his arms trembling around me, my legs mirroring the same pleasure as I squeeze him tight.
Maybe the fact that it’s so bad to be with him is what makes it so fucking hot. He’s my boss. I’m his intern. I shouldn’t be on his yacht. He shouldn’t have his mouth around my nipple. I shouldn’t have his cock buried deep inside me.
But the things we shouldn’t do were everything we wanted to do, and neither of us was used to hearing the word no.
Brandon’s tongue is just as expert as I remember — the way he rolls it over each of my nipples, the thick warmth of it dragging up my breasts to claim my mouth again. He kisses me like I’m his only possession, the last thing he has left in this world — like he’ll never let me go.
Pressing my hands into his chest, I lean up off the bed, giving him the signal to roll us.
And when I’m on top, sitting on my throne, I glare down at him with a wicked grin before lifting off him and lowering back down.
It’s so slow, the pace I take, the way he stretches me open even more in the new position.
Brandon’s fingers dig into my hips, sure to leave bruises just like the pole did this morning, but I don’t care.
“Always a tease,” he whispers, his eyes rolling back.
“You love it.”
Brandon spanks my ass, thrusting his hips up to meet my slow torture. The new depth elicits a loud, crying moan from me, but he doesn’t stop his assault. Faster and faster his hips move, and when his thumb finds my clit, circling with just the slightest pressure, I come apart from the inside.
And I don’t see stars, I don’t feel numbness. No, it’s like I float above my body in that moment. I see the water, the sun setting over the shore, Brandon splayed beneath me, a satisfied smirk on his lips as I call out his name with every new wave.
I am floating, so high I could never truly come back down to Earth. I’ll forever exist in this new purgatory — a sweet kind of heavenly hell with Mr. Church as the only god.
Like a snap of a rubber band, my universe warps, and I’m catching my breath at the end of my orgasm, shaking as my hands reach for stability on Brandon’s chest. He smirks wider, biting his lower lip, and then all the control I had is ripped away again.
He flips me, rolling me onto my stomach with one smooth motion, his legs straddling mine.
Brandon palms my ass, appreciating the firmness of it with another smack before he spreads my cheeks apart.
My own legs are sealed together under him, making it even tighter when he presses into me from behind, filling me to the hilt.
I’m so wet from my own release that he slides right in, but I’m swollen, sated, and every inch of him feels like a mile.
“Oh, God. Please. Come for me,” I plead, a mixture of pain and ecstasy ringing through me as he thrusts inside again.
He groans, balancing on his fists as his hips work. “Fuck, you feel so incredible like this. So tight. So fucking wet.”
“Please,” I repeat, just as he hits a new depth. “Oh, God.”
He picks up his pace, hips working as his breaths shallow out.
A few grunts, his forearms tightening, and then one last, long thrust inside me as he finds his release.
He spills into me, pressing so deep I’d surely have twins if I weren’t on the pill.
And when he’s done, his arms cave, just a little, and he lowers himself down onto me as he softens inside.
The weight of his slick, hot body presses me into the comforter, and I sigh, a smile splitting my face as pleasure rolls through us.
“Whoops,” I say.
Brandon chuckles, rolling off me and onto one elbow. He watches me as I stare back under a curtain of sex hair, still grinning.
“You’re impossible.”
I crawl toward him, pressing my lips to his in a long, slow kiss. “And you’re insatiable.”
“Also true.”
When I pull back, Brandon runs his fingertips over my bare shoulder and down the curve of my back, tracing a circle on my hip before dragging them back up. He watches me, eyes searching mine before he asks the question we’ve been avoiding.
“So, now what?”
Now what, indeed.