Chapter 31 #2
I nod, feeling like I’m coming more and more undone. Asher smirks into his drink.
Our food arrives, thankfully. I try to distract myself by shifting my dinner around on my plate, afraid that if I actually raise my arm to eat it, my hand will shake or my fork or possibly my entire body.
So I drink more water. I play with my lock necklace. I mentally recite various analysis methods. I try to follow the volley of conversation—argument, really, even if Asher and Brayden both seem like they’re enjoying it—while my body rebels against me.
My nipples harden to points. Heat gathers between my legs and at the base of my spine.
Brayden and Asher ask me questions, occasionally.
I’m sure I give answers, the way I’m sure I’m eating and tasting food, but everything in me is coiling and coiling, my whole body focused on the buzzing between my legs and the orgasm thrumming just under my skin.
Eventually, we finish eating. The waiter clears our dishes. I had the duck with a squash puree, apparently. Asher makes a show out of taking out his phone, ostensibly to look up something Brayden is saying, but then vibrator turns up even further instead.
I clench my thighs together a few times. Grip my seat like I’m going to come undone, which I just might. I have to do something—have to either get this vibrator off me or get myself off. I jump up, grab my purse. “Be right back.”
“Are you okay?” Brayden rises.
I flinch back. “Really, I’m fine.”
A worried line forms between his eyebrows. “Are you getting a headache? Do you need…?” He pats down his pants pocket and pulls out a small tube. Uncaps it.
It takes a second to spot the label on the pills. Excedrin Migraine, the same as what’s in my little keychain pill holder. He must have bought those for me, specifically.
A wave of guilt washes over me. My vision is clear, my head un-throbbing. But here Brayden is, concerned. “I just need a few minutes, and I’ll be fine,” I say. Which isn’t a lie, exactly, but isn’t the truth either.
Asher gets up. “I should head out too.” What’s he doing? I can’t ask that, obviously.
“Gonna eat and run?” Brayden says.
“Nah.” Asher looks right at me. “Not really my style if I can help it.” He takes out his phone again. If that vibrator gets turned up anymore, I might faint. “How much do I owe you for dinner?”
Standing repositioned the vibrator so it’s sitting flush with my clit. I turn, offer Asher a hug goodbye—something appropriate with our bodies far away from each other. Then he whispers in my ear. “Last bathroom. Two minutes.”
I should tell him no. Tell him whatever happened between us is over. Instead I just nod then walk away, as quickly as I can with the toy one man got me buzzing against my legs and the lock pendant from another bouncing against my chest.
A minute and half later, there’s a knock on the bathroom door. I crack it open. Asher’s in the hallway. I usher him in and turn the lock and try the handle a few times for good measure.
Asher doesn’t wait for more invitation. He backs me against the counter, runs his hand up my thigh under the hem of my dress, caresses my panties with two fingers. “You’re wet.”
He pushes the vibrator more firmly against me. It’s loud in the quiet bathroom, uninterrupted by anything but the sounds of my own ragged breathing. “You didn’t know you were going to see me,” he says. “So why’d you wear this?”
“I…” I swallow. “I don’t know.”
“I think you do. You got all dressed up to go out with your husband and…what, put this on?”
That’s what happened, more or less. I fixed my hair, retouched my makeup.
Got into my dress and left my shapewear in my suitcase.
While Brayden was in the bathroom getting ready, I palmed the vibrator from its case and slid it on, clipping the magnet on the other side of my underwear to hold it in place.
I told myself I just wanted to see what it was like.
And I was about to unclip it when Brayden came out and asked if I was ready to go. “Yes,” I admit.
“Was it for him?” Asher turns me around until I’m braced against the counter, flips the hem of my dress above my ass. Sees my panties—clearly soaked—and the black anti-chafing bands I have on each thigh. “Was it for me?”
“It was for me,” I gasp.
That makes him laugh. “Good answer.” He pulls one of the bands and snaps it gently, chuckling a little when I yelp. “Did you want something, princess?”
I should say no. We don’t have much time. We don’t have any time at all really. “Please.”
“Of course. Since you asked so nicely.” He unzips his jeans—the zipper is loud—tugs them down just enough. His cock is like him: long and blunt and just the right shape. He pulls down my panties and takes himself in hand, pushing forward.
Then he stops. Pats his pockets. “I don’t have a condom.”
All the other men I’ve been with wouldn’t have brought it up. Most were outraged at the idea that they could potentially have an STI as if STIs were warded off by boat shoes and prep school diplomas. “Do we need one?” I ask.
“I got a team physical when I got traded. Everything that should come back negative did.” But he doesn’t move any further. “I don’t want you to have to take my word for it.”
“I trust you to be honest. If you trust me too…” I smile at him, but he doesn’t return it.
“It’s not you I don’t trust.”
Of course he thinks Brayden is screwing around behind my back.
For all I know, Brayden is screwing around behind my back.
He’s had his location pin on for a while.
For the past few weeks, when the team isn’t traveling, all he’s done is gone from the ballpark to various running routes around the neighborhood.
Who knows what he gets up to otherwise? I should.
I’m his wife. “Bray wouldn’t—” I try to think of something other than treat me like that. “We’re careful.”
For a second, I think Asher is going to pull up his pants and leave. I wouldn’t blame him, even if I’m aching. “Are you on, uh…” Asher starts then pauses. “I don’t want to get you pregnant.” He grins at me in the mirror. “Yet.”
Fuck. “I have an IUD.”
“So I can fill this pretty pussy up and no one will ever know?”
I nod, frantic, and Asher doesn’t wait. Just grips himself and eases into me. I’m so wet it doesn’t take much. He’s big inside me, pressing against my inner walls, bigger still when he begins to thrust.
My hands scrabble against the slick bathroom countertop. My shoes wobble against the floor. If anyone came in right now, they wouldn’t see Savannah Burke, or Forsyth, or whoever, country club socialite, but someone barely coherent and begging to be fucked.
“Shh, princess, someone’ll hear.” Asher drags his fingers through my slick, then sticks two of them in my mouth, my taste spreading across my tongue. “That’s how wet you are. That’s how wet I made you.”
I suck, frantic for some relief. I’ve been on the edge for an hour, since the last time we were together.
“Did you miss me?” he asks.
I nod.
“Did you fuck yourself on those toys in your nightstand and wish they were me?”
“Yes.”
Asher braces my hip with one hand and drops his fingers from my mouth in favor of working my clit in time with his thrusts. Pleasure drips in rivulets down my thighs. How could I ever fake any of this now that I know how it really feels?
He pushes into me even harder, laughing when I whine, when I arch my back, desperate for more. “Fuck yourself, that’s it. Go back to your husband aching from my cock.”
I try to say something—something like so you’re thinking about him too—but the words aren’t there.
Only a gasp and a snap of Asher’s hips and a flick of his thumb across my clit and that smile of his in the mirror and all at once I’m coming around him so hard that I can barely stand as he empties himself inside me.
After, we stand there, breathing. I need to clean myself up. I need to figure out what I’m going to do about Brayden. I need to…
My legs start shaking. My vision blurs. Slowly, I start sinking toward the floor.
“Whoa, whoa.” Asher yanks his pants up, then wraps his arms around me, his lips making brief contact with my hairline. “You okay?”
“Not really.”
“Migraine?”
“Maybe.” Though it doesn’t feel like one. I blink a few times. My eyes go watery.
“Hey,” Asher says, “breathe how I’m breathing.”
I listen for the slow expansion of his chest, his measured exhale, until the world comes back into focus. “That’s it, princess.” He kisses me again, soft. “Was that too much?”
Yes. No. I don’t have a good answer. Because that was too much and it only made me want more.
So I move away from him, spend a moment cleaning myself up with Asher’s back turned.
Run the water and try to neaten my hair and makeup.
I look almost presentable. “I’ve been gone too long. Brayden’s gonna freak out.”
“He really likes you.”
I glance up at Asher. “I mean, yeah, we’re married.” For the first time, I don’t feel like I’m completely lying when I say it.
“I thought maybe…” Asher shakes his head as if clearing it. “What’re we gonna do?”
“I’ll leave first. You wait for a few minutes and go down the elevator.” A repeat of that night at the house, only now with hundreds more witnesses.
“Sav, that’s not what I meant.” Because that’s the question filling up the space between us: what’re we going to do about any of this?
My throat tightens. “I know.”
Asher wraps his arms around me, once, briefly, and kisses me softly on my cheek. “Text me when you get in.”
“You’ll probably be able to hear it from your room.”
“Yeah.” He swallows audibly. “But just so I know. Even if I can’t— Even if we’re not— I like knowing you’re okay.”
I’m not. Because I’m not right now. I don’t know if there’s a word for being sad because you’re breaking someone else’s heart: Asher’s or Brayden’s or probably both.
Mostly, as I gather myself and I walk back toward Brayden, I realize I’m definitely going to break someone’s heart—and it’s going to be my own.