Chapter Twenty-Three Imani #2
He kisses me like he’s starving. Like he’s falling apart and I’m the only thing holding him together. It’s dizzying, wild, and nothing like anything I’ve ever felt before.
My hips grind against his, desperate for the sweet release of friction, and I swear I can feel how wet I am without even touching myself. I want him so badly it actually hurts.
‘Please.’ I don’t even realise I’m begging until the word breaks loose from my throat.
‘Tell me what you want, love.’
‘Anything,’ I plead. ‘Anything. Just— Just touch me.’
His grin is hungry as he moves lower, trailing heat down my body until he’s crouched between my thighs at the edge of the bed. The way he looks at me then, every muscle in his body coiled and focused, that sends a bolt of pure electricity through my body.
His hands run along my thighs and then he’s spreading me open, knees wide, gaze locked on the throbbing, aching heat between my legs. I think I might actually die if he doesn’t touch me, and he must know it because he laughs lowly, and presses a kiss to the inside of my knee.
His fingers slide up, coaxing my thighs wider, and then he drags one slow, torturous finger along the soaked heat of me. I jolt, hips canting up on instinct. His thumb brushes gently against my clit. I nearly see stars. My whole world narrows to that one point of contact.
He moves his thumb in slow, torturous circles and then speeds up, keeping rhythm even as two of his fingers tease at my entrance, stroking so slowly it’s almost cruel. I whine, nearly bucking off the bed, and he shushes me softly, still watching me as I twitch and gasp beneath him.
When he finally slides his fingers inside, I swear I nearly lose it.
He fucks me with his fingers, curling up to hit the spot that lights me up like a live wire. Every twist and stroke is maddeningly perfect. I grind against his hand and gasp, barely holding myself together.
He watches as I come undone beneath him, his eyes dark and hungry like he wants to eat me alive.
And then he does.
Asher pulls me right to the edge of the bed, spreading my thighs wide. He kneels down, pushes my hips up with his hands, and just stares for a second, like he’s memorising the sight of me ruined and shaking. His breath is hot against my inner thigh.
Then he licks me.
One long, slow swipe that makes my vision blur. I moan, loud, desperate, and he groans back, like he can’t get enough. His tongue circles my clit, flicks over it, then sucks it into his mouth and everything explodes.
I jerk, breath catching in my throat, as pleasure spreads hot and fast through my body. He sinks in a finger alongside his tongue and I think I see white for a second. I’m soaking, shamelessly wet and messy around him, and I know he can feel it because he lets out a filthy groan.
Every messy, obscene lap of his tongue coaxes another desperate sound from my lips. He makes it impossible to be quiet – I’m gasping, keening, breathless, and I don’t give a damn if anyone can hear through the hotel walls.
‘Asher— Fuck. Please, I need—’ But I don’t even know what I’m begging for because he’s already giving me everything.
He hums against me, sending another jolt straight to my core, and then he’s plunging his fingers in and out, curling up as his tongue circles my clit, faster, harder, pulling me right to the edge…
I come so fast, the sensation crashes into me like a meteor.
Every muscle locks, every nerve goes white hot, and I shatter apart on his mouth, legs trembling, my nails digging into the sheets for dear life.
My vision actually goes a bit blurry. There are sparkles behind my eyelids.
I’m not entirely sure my body is even capable of processing this much pleasure in one go.
Asher groans against me and it sends another aftershock through my body. I gasp. ‘Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.’
I shatter on his tongue again and my mouth falls open in a helpless, guttural moan. I don’t even care how ridiculous I must sound. I want everyone in this entire fucking hotel to know it’s Asher Vouvalis making me come undone like this.
When I finally come back to myself, I’m limp and wrecked and shaking, sprawled across his bed. Asher climbs up over me, his mouth shining, his jaw clenched, and he’s looking at me like a starved man and I’m his last meal.
I barely get my breath back before he’s hauling me up, crushing my lips against his and letting me taste myself on his tongue.
I want him inside me. Now.
I don’t even bother to be coy. I fumble desperately at the waistband of his boxers.
His dick springs free, hot and impossibly hard, heavy in my palm and God, he’s perfect.
I wrap my hand around him and he bites out a ragged curse.
The tip is already wet. He grinds against my thigh and I can feel how badly he needs this.
I hook my legs around his waist, heel digging into his back, pulling him closer until the head of his dick is lined up perfectly with my soaking entrance. He hesitates, just for a second, eyes searching mine.
‘Please,’ I beg. ‘Just—’
He doesn’t make me wait. He lines himself up, presses in, and I swear I nearly come again right then and there.
He’s hard and warm and so, so big, every inch stretching me perfectly, filling me in a way that I know will ruin me for anyone else. I arch into him, rolling my hips to take him as deep as possible.
The stretch is perfect. It’s a slow, heady burn that blurs pain and pleasure into one, and I can’t help the broken cry that rips from my throat as he bottoms out, buried to the hilt of me.
‘Oh, fuck. Imani.’
He moves, slow at first, letting me adjust, but I don’t want patience. I want to feel this for days. I want to be ruined.
I clutch at his shoulders, digging my nails into his skin, and rock my hips up to meet every thrust. I rake my nails down his back and gasp his name in time with each stroke. ‘Asher, harder…’
He groans and I can tell I’ve just shattered whatever last scrap of restraint he’s clinging to. He pounds into me, fast and brutal now, and the sound of skin slapping skin echoes through the quiet of the room. Each thrust drags another increasingly loud moan from my lips.
He grabs my thigh, hooks it high up on his hip, and the new angle leaves me seeing stars again. His dick hits that perfect spot with every snap of his hips and I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but yell his name and beg for more.
Every thrust knocks the breath from my lungs; every smack of his hips grinds against my clit and winds the tension in my stomach tighter and tighter.
I want to hold on and make this last even longer, but it’s impossible.
I come hard again, my body locking around him, squeezing him so tight I hear him curse.
He doesn’t slow down. His pace gets frantic. Desperate. I feel him shudder inside me and then he pulls out with a guttural moan, stroking himself once, twice, three times, and then—
He spurts hot and thick across my stomach and breasts then hovers over me, placing his still shaking arms on either side of my waist. He’s staring at me like he’s never seen anything so perfect.
I love it.
Asher’s still leaning over me, hands braced on either side of my head, chest heaving as he takes in the mess he’s made of me. I never want him to look at me any other way.
I pull him down, wrap my arms around his neck, and drag his mouth to mine. It’s messy. Feverish. Still so hungry.
My hands roam, greedy and demanding, nails raking down his back, then sliding to his chest, his stomach.
I want to map out every muscle. I want to memorise the heat of his skin, the way he shudders when I touch the spot just below his ribs.
Everything. I can’t stop touching him. I graze his jaw, his throat, ghost my hand over his stomach, loving the way he shivers under my palm.
He presses open-mouthed kisses along the curve of my collarbone, the side of my neck, like he’s drunk on my skin and can’t get enough.
I don’t know how long we lay there, stealing lazy kisses and touches, but when we finally break apart, it’s only to collapse in a tangled heap, his weight pinning me to the bed, both of us covered in sweat and sex.
For a while, there’s just the slick, sticky heat of our bodies.
My skin buzzing, heart still stampeding, his arm heavy yet perfect where it’s slung across my waist. I don’t want to move.
Ever. I want to melt right here into the mattress and let Asher watch me with that dark, shattered look on his face forever.
But then he sits upright, pressing a kiss to my shoulder as he moves. I shiver at the gentle scratch of his stubble against my skin. I could drown so easily in this feeling.
He mutters something I don’t catch before he slips out from underneath me and disappears into the darkness of the room.
For a second, panic spikes – I don’t want this to end.
Not yet. I’m not ready, but then I hear the soft click of the bathroom door and water running.
I watch him from where I’m sprawled, boneless, on the bed: Asher, gloriously, gloriously naked, back and shoulders gleaming in the half-light of the bathroom.
He returns a moment later with a towel, warm and steamy from the tap.
He doesn’t say anything. Just kneels over me, gaze locked to mine, and wipes the mess off my stomach and chest with the gentlest touch I’ve ever felt.
Like I’m precious. Like he wants to worship every part of me.
Like he’d never get bored if we were to stay locked up in this room for the rest of our lives.
When he finishes, he tosses the towel aside and crawls back into bed beside me. ‘Come here,’ he says quietly, opening his arms. I shuffle up next to him and curl around his body. His arms wrap around me and pull me in close and it feels like coming home.
Finally.