8. Emma
8
EMMA
E ach article of clothing that Asher strips from his body is photographed. I sit, utterly enthralled by every sliver of golden skin revealed to me while Asher poses. His T-shirt lands behind him, joining his belt and his shoes. He thumbs at the button of his jeans, then slides his long fingers along the waistband and pushes the material an inch down his hips.
I’m speechless. The sight of his muscular body creates an ache between my legs. I want to touch him. I want to run my fingers through the curls of dark hair across his chest, teasing at the streaks of silver. I want to see if he tastes as good as he smells, feel those rough hands all over my body. Instead, I focus on the pictures as the ache between my legs gives rise to a sudden influx of nerves. Three pictures later, Asher’s hand lands on top of mine.
“Do you ever take pictures of yourself?” he asks in a low voice.
Slowly, I lift my gaze to meet his as he stands over me. Heat radiates from his body in waves and my breath catches in the dryness of my throat. Forcing a swallow, I shake my head.
“I like making people look beautiful, no matter how they feel or how they look. To do that, I’m usually behind the camera.”
His fingertips dance over my knuckles, then his palm sweeps around and he takes the camera from me.
“So, your beauty is never captured?”
“No,” I say, my voice just above a whisper.
Asher turns the camera around to face me, then he holds it aloft to his left. My heart begins to race and the fluttering nerves in my gut become a stampede. Just as I glance at the camera, curious what angle he’s going for, Asher swoops in and kisses me full on the lips.
It stuns me. His lips are soft and gentle, even as the kiss is firm. We lock together briefly and the rougher hairs of his beard scratch against my chin and cheek when Asher tilts his head. We break apart and I gasp, seeking a deep breath as the air between us grows hot and charged. With a smirk, Asher turns the camera around and displays the picture of our first kiss.
“Beautiful.”
I hadn’t even heard the picture being taken, but it falls to the side as my focus becomes Asher and nothing more. One taste, and I’m hooked. Lifting both hands, I cup the sides of his neck and draw him back in for another, deeper kiss. Asher grunts softly in surprise, then he melts into the kiss. His free arm slides around my waist, pulling me to the very edge of the table while he steps in between my spread legs.
It’s been too long since I was kissed. Too long since someone gave me the attention I so deeply craved, and Asher ticks all the boxes I love. His lips dance with mine, weaving back and forth as we switch direction and separate often for breathless gasps of air. Heat builds like a furnace beneath my skin and my heart races so frantically that my hands tremble faintly.
His citrus scent floods my lungs and dizziness washes over me—although that could be the lack of air from how hungrily we kiss one another. There’s barely time for a decent breath, neither of us willing to let the other go.
Suddenly, Asher abandons the camera. He scoops me right up from the table and my heart lurches, causing a squeak to escape my throat. As a bigger girl, I fantasize about being manhandled, but reality often tells me it will never happen.
Asher lifts me like I’m weightless. I cling to him, clutching at his shoulders and he chuckles softly when he lowers me down onto the bed of flower petals created from his earlier photo shoot.
“Are you alright?” Bracing on one arm, Asher hovers above me. I can’t stop touching him, so my fingers follow every curve and rise of his muscular pecs, all the way down to the softer skin that covers his abs.
“Yes,” I gasp. “That was unexpected.”
“My apologies,” Asher murmurs and his lips claim my own once again. He kisses me deeply, paying close attention to my lower lip. As he breaks away, his teeth snag the swell of my lip and he pulls back gently. “I wanted to taste you and sitting on the desk would have been too much hassle.”
“Taste me?” I ask as my mind struggles to catch up with coherent thought. “How?”
Asher vanishes from my field of view, then warm lips press against the inside of my knee. He’s down between my legs, sliding his hands up my thighs and encouraging my legs to part wide enough so he will fit. My body obeys with a mind of its own and my legs fall open.
This feels like a dream. A man this gorgeous, ticking all my fantasy boxes is down between my legs. I can barely think straight. Above me, white lights gleam and a few stray petals continue to drift down around me. Each petal that kisses my skin sends tingles through my entire body while Asher’s mouth maps out a path up the inside of my thigh. Every soft press of lips is followed by the graze of his beard, making it impossible for me to focus on just one sensation. His hands caress upwards, settling into the crook of my thighs and squeezing gently.
My heart pounds loudly in my ears. All thought escapes me; there’s only sensation. My clothes are too rough and constricting against my skin, sweat clings to my back and my glasses fog up so quickly that I can’t see. I discard them quickly, just as Asher eases the fabric of my panties aside and presses his tongue to my pussy.
My glasses clatter against the floor, I slam my hands down onto the wood, and my back bows as pleasure courses through my body. I can’t hold in my moan; it crawls out of my throat with my next breath and my world spins. Asher doesn’t pause his attention. His mouth presses firmly against my pussy and the rough press of his beard against my most sensitive area is more erotic than I ever could have imagined. The heat and firmness of his tongue as it sweeps through my core drives me higher and higher with each stroke. His lips kiss over my clit, guiding his tongue in circles and wiggles. Each touch sends spikes of pleasure through my core and I clench down on nothing. Heat flares just below my navel, trickling down to where my clit meets his tongue. I’m panting, torn between wanting away from his touch and leaning into it. It’s a strange, restless sensation that cries out for more and less at the same time.
He holds me in place, both hands curling around my thighs and the restriction drives my ecstasy higher. Then, Asher moans. A deep sound that vibrates against my core, and I lose complete control. My orgasm takes over and hits me with the force of a truck, sending tremors and tingles through my entire body. I can’t contain my moans. They fall from my lips like prayers as Asher holds me closer and teases me through every ripple of my orgasm. Only when I start to whimper does he finally pull back and press a damp kiss to the inside of my thigh.
“Holy…shit,” I gasp, desperate for air. My back sinks back down to the floor, and my limbs twitch with each aftershock.
“That was amazing.” Asher smirks. I glance down, looking him in the eye, and a compliment warms my tongue. Before I can speak though, there’s a sharp knocking on the door and we both bolt into action.
Asher dives for his clothes, redressing with impressive speed while I pull myself up onto unsteady legs and readjust my underwear.
“Just a second!” Asher calls but the door opens and we both stand like deer caught in headlights.
It’s not until a few days later when I’m busy processing pictures from my older camera in the college dark room, that I realize I never got Asher’s number. We barely escaped the studio in one piece—and while the staff couldn’t prove we’d been up to anything shady, there were enough disapproving looks and scoffs that I’d hurried out of there and been too scared to look back.
It was amazing, though. Never in my life had someone been so eager to dive between my legs, and never had a tongue brought me so much pleasure. I hadn’t needed to say a word. No guiding Asher to the spots I liked best or asking him to speed up or slow down. Somehow, he just knew exactly what to do. That’s why I prefer real men.
Not boys that can’t even find a clit in a textbook.
Sighing, I tap at the back of one picture and watch the ripples move through the liquid. A lot of people prefer instant pictures these days, but I cling to a few vintage cameras. There’s something extra beautiful about boudoir pictures being developed this way, and Tina is coming out great. As I gently extract one photo and hang it above me to dry, it hits me that all the pictures I took with Asher are on his camera.
Would he keep them? Would he even remember me? Or does he go around getting into the pants of every woman he comes across? I didn’t get that impression, but I like the idea of him returning to those pictures and remembering me. I hang up the next couple of pictures, contemplating how to get his number in the least creepy way. Technically, the studio would have his number as part of his onboarding process, but I can’t think of a way to get it that doesn’t scream crazed stalker.
“Damn it,” I murmur to myself as his sexy wink replays over in my mind. Somehow, he left me incredibly satisfied and yet so insanely hungry for more. It’s a strange sensation that battles in my mind as I hang the remaining pictures. If only I could get Finn or Caspian to look at me the way he did. Life would be fucking fantastic. Hanging complete, I set the timer and step out of the room. Going from dark red to the bright light of the hallway is always jarring, as is the sudden change from silent to noisy. Several people hurry down the corridor and outside, cheers rise up from some social event happening out in the courtyard. I take out my phone and check the time, calculating where Ana and Meghan might be. Until someone says my name and a familiar, tantalizing scent of citrus fills my nose.
“Emma?”
“Asher?” My head snaps up and indeed, Asher stands before me with a red folder tucked against his chest, held in place by one arm. It’s impossible to keep a smile from blooming across my face. “Oh my God, I didn’t know you went here!”
“Yup,” Asher smiles warmly, stepping close. “Trust me, I’m just as surprised to see you although it’s definitely not unpleasant.”
All thoughts of Ana and Meghan flee my mind. “This is kind of amazing. I was kicking myself for not getting your number.”
“That makes two of us.” Asher’s smile is so warm that I’m completely at ease.
“What is it you’re studying?” I ask, eyeing the folder in his arms.
“Studying?” Asher lowers the folder and my heart sinks as the gleam of a lanyard comes into view. “I don’t study here. I teach.”