Chapter 16 ASH #2
“Please what, sweetheart?” I murmur, brushing my mouth along her inner thigh again, close—so fucking close—but not where she wants me. “You have to tell me.”
She arches toward me, breath hitching. “Touch me. Please. Ash, I—”
I press my palm to her hip, steadying her. “God, you sound so pretty like this.”
My voice is low. Rough. I’m barely holding it together.
But I need this to be perfect. I need her to fall apart knowing exactly how much I want her.
“You’ve been such a good girl for me,” I whisper, my mouth hovering over her pussy now. She gasps—she can feel the heat of my breath there.
“Say it again,” she begs, her voice a broken whisper.
I smile. “Good girl.”
And then I finally touch her.
I slide my tongue over her center, slow and firm, and she cries out like I’ve lit her on fire. Her whole body jerks, hips bucking, hands flying to grab at anything—air, sheets, her own thighs.
I hold her down gently, murmuring soothing filth between strokes. “That’s it. Just like that. Let me take care of you.”
She’s already so worked up. Every moan, every shiver tells me how badly she needed this—how close she is.
When I wrap my mouth around her and suck gently, her entire body locks.
And then—
“Oh my God, Ash—”
She unravels.
Back arching. Mouth open. Blindfold still in place.
And I don’t stop. I hold her through it, keep kissing her like a man starved, like she’s the only thing I’ll ever crave.
When she finally collapses, trembling and breathless, I kiss my way back up her body and rest my forehead against hers.
“You okay to keep going?” I whisper.
She nods, still gasping. “More than okay.”
“Then stand up,” I command, my voice firm but laced with affection.
She obeys without hesitation, her body moving gracefully despite her blindfold.
Her dark hair cascades over her shoulders, framing her pale skin, and I pause to admire the way she looks—vulnerable yet powerful, completely mine.
I step back, unbuckling my belt, my jeans sliding down my legs. My cock is hard and throbbing.
Her breath catches as she hears what I’m doing.
She reaches out, her hand hovering in the air as if unsure if she’s allowed to touch.
“Go ahead,” I say, my voice a challenge.
Her fingers wrap around me, her touch light but firm, and I hiss, my head falling back.
“Like that?” she asks, her voice playful, her thumb brushing the head of my cock.
“You know I do,” I reply, stepping closer, guiding her hand to move in time with my thrusts. I’m close, but I want more—I want her mouth. “Kneel,” I repeat, and she does.
Her breath is warm on my cock as she leans in, her lips parting slightly, as if savoring the anticipation.
My heart races, my pulse pounding in my ears, as I watch her approach with a mix of hunger and reverence.
I’m hard, throbbing with need, and the sight of her like this—vulnerable yet in control—sends a jolt of electricity straight to my core.
Her hands rest lightly on my thighs, her fingers brushing against the muscles there, anchoring her as she steadies herself. The air between us crackles with tension, thick with the scent of her perfume and the faint musk of desire.
“You ready for me, Ash?” she asks, her voice low and husky, laced with a playful challenge.
There’s a lightness in her tone, but beneath it, I hear the rumble of something deeper—a hunger that mirrors my own.
Her words send a shiver down my spine, and I smirk, my fingers tangling in her messy, textured hair as I guide her closer.
Her waves are soft against my palms, and I can’t resist the urge to tug gently, just enough to remind her who’s in charge.
“You know I am,” I reply, my voice rough with desire, “but the question is, are you ready for me?”
She hums, a sound that vibrates through me, resonating deep within my chest. Then, with deliberate slowness, her lips wrap around the head of my cock.
Her mouth is warm, wet, and her tongue swirls around the tip, teasing, tasting, sending shivers down my spine.
I hiss at the contact, my body tensing with anticipation.
Her hands grip my thighs tighter, her nails digging in just enough to ground me, to remind me she’s there, she’s real, and she’s mine.
The sensation of her mouth on me is intoxicating, a mix of tenderness and voracity that leaves me breathless.
She takes me deeper into her mouth, her lips sliding down my length, and I groan, my head falling back as pleasure washes over me.
Her tongue is a masterpiece, massaging, flicking, exploring every inch of me with expert precision.
The blindfold adds a layer of intimacy, a sense of trust, and I’m acutely aware of how much she’s giving me in this moment.
Her dedication is palpable, her focus absolute, and I feel like the only man in the world.
“Fuck, Olive,” I mutter, my voice hoarse, my throat dry with need. “You’re gonna make me lose it.”
She doesn’t respond with words, but her actions speak volumes.
She bobs her head, her mouth tight and wet, sucking and licking with an intensity that’s both tender and ferocious.
Her pace is deliberate, her movements calculated, as if she’s memorized every inch of me and knows exactly how to drive me wild.
I tangle my fingers in her hair, guiding her pace, urging her to go slower, then faster, then slower again.
She follows my lead, her mouth devouring me, her saliva slicking my throbbing cock.
The sensation is overwhelming—her lips, her tongue, the way she hums, the vibrations sending shivers through my entire body.
That’s it, baby,” I murmur, voice thick with need, breath ragged. “Just like that.”
She moves faster, taking me deeper, her mouth hot and greedy. I’m teetering on the edge—caught between restraint and the raw need to let go.
I thrust gently, and she takes every inch, lips brushing the base, tongue teasing the tip. It’s too much. Not enough. Everything all at once.
“I’m close,” I grit out, pulling back before it’s too late.
She sits back, eyes dark, mouth wet—and scowls, like I just stole her favorite toy.
“Tell me what you want,” I demand, my voice rough.
She hesitates, her breath coming in short gasps. “I want… I want you to—”
“What?” I press, my voice a low growl, my hand sliding between us to find her clit.
“I want you to fuck me,” she says, her voice a whisper, her body trembling. “Hard. Please.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I grip her hips tighter, as I position myself behind her. I thrust into her slowly, savoring the way her body welcomes me, her walls gripping me tightly.
Her moans are muffled, desperate, and I quicken my pace, my hips snapping against hers. I reach around, my fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in time with my thrusts.
My cock is pounding into her with a rhythm that’s almost brutal.
She cries out, her voice raw, her body meeting mine with every stroke.
Her walls clench around me, her arousal coating my cock, and I know she’s close again.
I lean down, my lips brushing her ear. “Let go, baby,” I command, my voice a harsh whisper. “I’ve got you.”
She shatters, her cries echoing in the dim room, her body convulsing around me. I hold on, my own release building, my thrusts becoming frantic as I chase my own edge. “Fuck, Olive,” I groan, my voice breaking as I let go, my cum surging into her, my body trembling with the force of it.
I collapse onto her, breathless, my forehead resting on her back, her blindfolded face turned toward me.
The room is silent except for our heavy breathing, the scent of sex and sweat heavy in the air.
I pull out slowly, her body still trembling, and roll us onto the bed, her head resting on my chest.
Carefully, I reach behind her head and loosen the blindfold.
She blinks in the dim light as I pull it away, her lashes wet, eyes glassy. I press a kiss to each fluttering eyelid.
“Hey,” I whisper. “You with me?”
She nods, silent, dazed, absolutely beautiful.
She’s got that look—the one she probably doesn’t even know she wears. All soft and undone and open. And I feel it. Right in my chest. Like something sharp and sweet just split me open.
I stroke a thumb across her cheekbone, then tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re incredible, you know that?”
I lean in and kiss her slow. When I pull back, I stay close, forehead pressed to hers.
And the words slip out before I can stop them.
“Let’s get out of here.”
She blinks. “What?”
“I’m serious,” I say. “Just you and me. Somewhere warm. Somewhere private. Call it an engagement moon, call it whatever you want—I just want time with you. No work. No obligations. Just us.”
She searches my face, like she’s not sure I really mean it.
But I do. “So?” I ask softly. “What do you say, Hart? You and me. Some sun, maybe a beach. No clothes required.”
That earns a laugh. A real one. It bubbles out of her, breathless and bright.
“I think I’d like that,” she says.
And I swear, I could kiss her forever.