Chapter 10 #2
A whisper-thin chain of silver hung to his waist, sparkling like starlight against the black sky of his clothes. Should I go to him? Should I lift his chin and stare into those eyes to make sure they were the same pretty ones that haunted me?
Sober, I would rationalize that fate wouldn’t tempt me with something I couldn’t have. Fate wouldn’t dangle the forbidden fruit in front of me now. However, tipsy as I was, I certainly gave in to this being kismet.
Asher. Yes, it was him.
He slowly moved toward me. No, not moved.
He danced. With every step, he taunted me with hips I wanted to hold, hands I wanted trailing down my chest, and a knowing grin I wanted to taste.
I’d been so sure of myself all my life, even after the rattle to my resolve, but Asher was making quick work of those lies.
Like a burning candle, his flame melted me like wax.
The frightened teenager in me, the one who realized he was gay and cried so many nights, wishing he were straight, peeked his head out of that unfettered door. Asher stood there, with a big smile, reaching for me with his open hand.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t give in to needs I shouldn’t have. Walk away. Never look back. Those were the right responses, but he held me with some invisible tether.
Was this moment inevitable? Had I waited all this time for the right man to push me here?
How many more chances would fate give me? How many more weekend events would it take?
Asher made it to the edge and danced right in front of me. Not as exaggerated as he had been, just sultry little movements that kept time with the beat. He scanned down my length, and I stood straighter, preened even, in my white button-down and gray slacks.
We were so different. He, who apparently didn’t mind doing whatever the fuck he wanted, like wear makeup and dance for a man, and me, who couldn’t break his straightlaced mold.
Or could I? With him?
Asher twitched his lips before licking them, as if he could taste our kiss. Or was that me remembering it? Was it me needing to find out?
I grabbed his wrist and hauled him off the dance floor before I lost my nerve. Before fear sobered me completely. I needed an answer to a question I couldn’t let form in my mind. I needed him to make sense of the confusion rolling inside me.
No. I needed privacy. I needed shadows. The buzz of minutes ago cleared in the face of my determination, and I searched the club for somewhere, some corner, some … There.
Away from the tables where my friends had gone, I pulled Asher—who wasn’t fighting this—into a dark hallway with strategic alcoves lining each side. The first two were occupied, which was fine. I went deeper, darker, then yanked him into one and shoved his back against the wall.
“Luke—” he started, but I didn’t let him finish.
With my body keeping his locked to the wall, I gripped his jaw in a firm hold and angled his head the way I wanted.
Then slammed my mouth to his.
I could kiss. This I had experience with. But was it just a kiss? Because nothing had ever been like this.
Even as I controlled the angle, Asher opened for me.
No awkward fumbling. As if we’d done this before.
His tongue laced with mine like an old flame returning home.
Our lips caressed, and our teeth enticed.
His hum vibrated against my fingers and chest instead of in my ears.
He went slack, softening for me, curving into me.
Asher moved his hands to my waist, then smoothed them higher, brushing over my nipples to circle my neck.
I kept my hand at his jaw, while the other I had flat on the wall behind him.
I wanted to touch, I wanted to give in, but this was already a complete overload; I had to hold on to some sort of safety net. If I touched his body …
As he had on the dance floor, Asher rolled his torso, letting his hard angles rub mine, letting his rigid length brush mine.
“Yes,” I breathed into him.
With my apparent permission, Asher flipped us. I landed hard against the wall, and he shoved one leg between mine.
“Fuck,” I whispered but rode his trim thigh as if I’d done this before.
This was right. This was meant to be. Maybe it was the man, or maybe it was him being a man.
I wasn’t absolutely sure of that, but I was sure that nothing could compare.
Every close encounter with women paled. Every lie, every act I’d put on, every smile faked, every interest I’d forced, thinned until it became insignificant moments of another life.
“Luke,” he whispered, scraped his teeth over my bottom lip, then dove in for another kiss.
Fuck, this was too fast. I was too eager. Surely, he’d call me out for my na?ve behavior any second.
He didn’t.
He controlled the pace. Hands on my hips, he controlled me.
Asher kept us steady, kept devouring my mouth, and let me feel. His intensity, his need. This man wanted me, and I needed him to want me.
I splayed my hands over his sweaty back. For a smaller guy, he was toned, muscular, but trim. The sinew beneath my palms flexed as he rolled my body over his.
“Fuck. You feel so good,” he said against my lips, then nipped them, teased them with his tongue, then kissed along my jaw. “You gonna come like a slut in those preppy pants?” His breath was cool over the heated skin of my ear.
I whined. Like, fucking whined, but hopefully, the music was too loud to hear it.
By his chuckle, he’d heard or at least felt it against his chest.
“Yeah, you are,” he said.
Asher released my hips—mere seconds away from me embarrassing myself with another whine—then gripped my ass hard, made me roll over his leg faster. Fuck, I was humping him like a dog in heat, but I hardly cared at this point.
I needed to come.
I needed everything he offered so damn much.
When he gripped my length over my pants, my vision altered. Lines blurred, shadows grew darker, so I closed my eyes. It was that or pass out. This was more … Just, fucking more.
Asher thumbed over my tip and chuckled against my ear. “You’re so wet. I wanna fuckin’ taste you.”
Well, fuck me. “Asher.”
I came. Hard. Violently. His words, the control he used on me, was too much. I cried out, but only for a half second, because he knew. He knew me better and had already moved to swallow my scream of ecstasy with his kiss.
Oh, God, yes. Yes. Asher.
When the waves ebbed, good sense opened the floodgates, and shame overwhelmed me. My buzz had long fled, and there was nothing to blame here except me. Except my own lack of propriety and self-control.
I straightened, practically shoved Asher off me, and leaned against the wall, chin low, heat flooding my body, but not in a good way.
Jesus, I’d never been so embarrassed.
“Hey.” Asher cupped my cheek, but I wrenched away.
“Hey,” he snapped louder, harsher, and wrapped ironlike fingers around my jaw.
When I met his eyes, they were dark, glittering like black diamonds in the shadows of the alcove. They danced between mine, lowered to my mouth, then snapped to mine again.
“Don’t. Just fucking don’t hate yourself right now. You needed to come. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that. Okay?”
I nodded.
“That wasn’t convincin’, baby.”
Baby?
“Tell me you’re okay.”
I nodded again and said, “I’m okay.”
His fingers relaxed, and then he ran his thumb over my lips. “I’ll believe it. You can make it home?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” He brushed both my cheeks and down my throat with warm hands, and I barely caught myself from leaning into the small comfort, yet again. “You’ve got a load in those preppy pants to clean up.” He stepped back, giving me space. “Go straight home.”
I blinked, thinking to balk at him for telling me what to do.
Asher’s lips twitched as if he noticed the argument churning in my mind.
Honestly, though, I didn’t want to fight.
He was right. I had needed to come, same as I needed him telling me to go home, clean myself up.
No one had ever done that before, and I, I liked it. A lot.
I ordered a ride share that was a minute away, barely got a text off to William that I was leaving before it showed up, and was home, in the shower and jerking off in under thirty minutes.
And when I came for the second time, the same word left my lips.
“Asher.”