Chapter 43
CHAPTER
FORTY-THREE
ASHER
I wake to Devon's hand sliding down my chest. I drifted off for a second, maybe ten or fifteen minutes—barely enough time to come down from the high of finally crossing that line. But her touch is deliberate, purposeful, and when her fingers wrap around my cock, I'm already hard again.
"Again?" I murmur.
"Again," she says, and there's something different in her voice now. Not tentative or seductive. Confident. Claiming. “I’m going to need it all the time, Asher. I’m always horny and so damn wet. I’m desperate to be fucked.”
She straddles me before I'm fully awake, positioning herself over me. I grip her hips as she sinks down, and fuck, she's still wet from before, still slick with me. "Jesus," I breathe.
"No," she says, starting to move. "Just you."
She rides me slowly at first, rolling her hips in a way that makes my fingers dig into her skin. The moonlight coming through the window catches on her body—the curve of her tits, the line of her throat as she tips her head back. She's fucking beautiful. And she's mine.
"We should move into your dad's house," she says, her voice breathy but clear. "It's bigger. Better."
"Yeah?" I thrust up into her and she gasps.
"Yeah. We’ll take the master bedroom." She's moving faster now, her hands braced on my chest. “I’ll redecorate. Make it ours. We’ll fuck on every surface.”
The idea sends a thrill through me. My father's house. His bedroom. The place where he controlled everything, where he made all his decisions about my life. And I'd be there with Devon, fucking her in his bed, living exactly how I want.
"We'll do it," I say.
“I want you to take me on vacation and fuck me until we’re both sore,” Devon continues, her rhythm building.
"Anywhere you want, baby."
"I want the Maldives," she says, and she's bouncing harder now, her breasts moving with each thrust. "I want to fuck you in the private villa, just like you fucked her on your honeymoon. You can replace every memory of her with one of me."
I sit up, pulling her closer, changing the angle so I'm hitting deeper. She cries out, her nails digging into my shoulders. "You can have whatever you want, better than her," I tell her, my mouth against her neck. "I'll give you everything."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
She kisses me then, hard and demanding, and I flip us over so she's on her back beneath me. I need to be in control right now, need to feel the power of this moment. I pin her wrists above her head with one hand and start fucking her harder.
"Yes," she moans. "God, yes, just like that."
"You like that?"
"I love it. I love you."
The words should probably mean something. Should probably make me pause. But they don't. They just fuel me, make me thrust harder, deeper. "Say it again," I demand.
"I love you," she gasps. "I love you, I love you?—"
I release her wrists and she immediately wraps her legs around me, pulling me deeper.
We're both sweating now, the room thick with heat and the smell of sex.
This is nothing like the careful, tentative encounters I had with Julie.
This is raw and primal and exactly what I've been craving. "Fuck, you feel so good," I tell her.
"Better than her?"
"So much better."
"Tell me," Devon says, her voice taking on that edge I'm starting to recognize. "Tell me I'm better than your wife."
"You're light years better than her."
"Tell me you're mine."
"I'm yours, baby. All yours."
She pulls me down for another kiss, and when we break apart, she's smiling. "I want you to fuck me harder."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I want to be full of your cum."
Something about that—the possessiveness, the claim—makes me lose whatever restraint I had left. I pull out and flip her over onto her stomach, pulling her hips up so she's on her knees. "Is this what you want?" I ask, positioning myself behind her.
"Yes. Please."
I push back inside her and she moans into the pillow. From this angle, I can see everything—the curve of her spine, the way her body takes me, the marks my fingers are leaving on her hips. I start moving, building a rhythm that has her gasping with each thrust.
"Harder," she begs.
I give her what she wants. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, punctuated by her moans and my own ragged breathing. I'm not holding back anymore. Not being careful. Not thinking about anything except how good this feels.
"Touch yourself," I tell her.
She reaches between her legs and I feel her body tense as she starts rubbing her clit. The added sensation makes her tighter around me, and I have to slow down to keep from coming too soon.
"Don't stop," she whimpers. "Please don't stop."
"I'm not stopping. I'm never stopping."
"Promise?"
"I promise. You're mine now. Your tight little pussy is fucking mine." I emphasize the words with a particularly hard thrust that makes her cry out.
"Yes. God, yes. I’m yours. It’s yours."
We find a rhythm that's almost brutal in its intensity. Every time I think about slowing down, she pushes back against me, demanding more. And I give it to her. I give her everything.
"I'm close," she gasps after a few minutes. "I'm so close."
"Not yet," I tell her. "Wait for me."
"I can't?—"
"Yes, you can." I slow down just enough to keep her on the edge, and she makes a frustrated sound that's half sob, half moan.
"Please," she begs. "Please, I need?—"
"What do you need, baby?"
"I need to come. Please let me come."
"Then say my name."
"Asher—"
"No." I lean over her, my chest against her back, my mouth at her ear. "Like the fantasy I told you I was having about you when Julie caught me in the shower. Say it right."
There's a pause. Then, "Daddy. Fuck me, Daddy."
The word sends electricity through me. It's wrong. It's fucked up. It's perfect. "Again," I demand.
"Daddy," she says, louder this time. "Please, Daddy, let me come."
"Fuck." I start moving faster, harder, chasing my own release now. "You're such a good girl. Such a good little girl for your daddy."
"Yes," she moans. "I'm your good girl, Daddy.”
"That's right. You're mine. My good little girl who takes my cock so well." She's trembling now, her whole body taut with need. I can feel how close she is, how desperately she's trying to hold back until I give her permission.
"Please," she whimpers. "Please, Daddy, I need it so bad."
"Come for me, baby," I order. "Come on your daddy’s cock like a good fucking girl."
She shatters. Her whole body convulses and she screams into the pillow, her muscles clenching around me so tight it's almost painful. The sensation pushes me over the edge and I follow her, thrusting deep and holding there as I come harder than I have in months.
"Devon," I groan. "Fuck, Devon—" I'm still cumming when the lights turn on.
The sudden brightness is blinding. I freeze, still buried inside Devon, my brain struggling to process what's happening. For a second, I think maybe I'm hallucinating. Maybe the orgasm was so intense I'm seeing things. But then I hear it. Slow, deliberate clapping.
I turn my head, and my blood turns to ice. Julie is standing in the doorway. Jamie is next to her. And Ryan is behind them both, his face a mask of cold fury. Jamie has her phone out, pointed directly at us. Recording.
"Well," Julie says, her voice perfectly calm, perfectly controlled. "I honestly didn't know you had that in you."
I try to move, to pull out of Devon, to grab something to cover us, but my body won't respond. I'm frozen, still half-hard inside her, my mind screaming at me to do something, say something, fix this.
"Though asking her to call you daddy is a little sick, don't you think?" Julie continues, and her tone is so casual, so conversational, that it's somehow worse than if she were screaming.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. There’s going to be no reasoning with her. People are going to find out about this. Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck do I do now?
"Julie—" I finally manage to speak, my voice cracking. "This isn't?—"
"Isn't what?" She tilts her head, and there's something in her eyes I've never seen before. Not hurt. Not anger. It’s like there’s an iceberg inside of her.
"Isn't what it looks like? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're balls-deep in your stepsister, calling her a good little girl, while she calls you daddy, you sick fuck. "
Devon scrambles off me, grabbing for the sheet. I do the same, my hands shaking as I try to cover myself. My mind is racing, trying to find an explanation, an excuse, anything that will fix this.
"I also think," Julie says slowly, "I can see her juices and your cum on your disgusting dick, and I can see you leaking out of her.
So you didn't bother with protection, which means I dodged a bullet.
You have no idea how happy I am right now that you haven't been able to get it up for me in eons.
This cum dumpster could have a disease, you fucking idiot. "
The harsh, whip-like tone she’s using and the things she’s saying make me want to vomit. This isn’t Julie. Nothing in her file, nothing in our history, nothing I’ve ever seen from her warned me she could turn like this. She’s angry in a way that terrifies me.
I open my mouth to speak, to apologize, to beg, but nothing comes out. I lunge toward her, still holding the sheet around my waist. "Julie, please, just let me explain?—"
One second I'm reaching for my wife, and the next, Ryan's fist connects with my jaw. The impact sends me sprawling backward. I hit the floor hard, the sheet tangling around my legs. Pain explodes through my face and I taste blood.
"Don't you even think about fucking touch her," Ryan says, his voice deadly quiet. “If you try again, I will fucking end you.”
I'm on the floor, naked, bleeding, and I look up to see Julie standing over me.
She reaches into her pocket and pulls out her wedding and engagement rings.
The rings that cost more than most people's homes.
She tosses them at me. They hit my chest and bounce off, landing on the floor next to me with two small, metallic sounds.