Chapter Forty
Victoria
Asher pulls out of me, and I’m too far gone to be embarrassed over my ensuing sob. The sound is met with a chuckle as he flips me over, hikes my knees beneath me, and pushes my face down into the mattress. The position is lewd, degrading, and so damn arousing I’m seconds away from combusting.
Asher’s cock slides a leisurely path back inside of me, stretching and filling me until I feel like I’m about to burst like a balloon.
“Oh, fuck,” I whimper. “Asher—”
“That’s a lot of fuss from just my cock.
” He sounds lazily amused. I’m sure I’m stoking his ego to untenable heights, but right now, I can’t bring myself to care.
I’m consumed by him, every part of me aching for him.
“I wonder what would happen if I did… this.” He slides his hand around me and presses his thumb to my clit.
I jerk, moaning, feeling my eyes sting from the unbearable pleasure.
“That seems to be the spot.” He folds himself over my body, nipping the shell of my ear. “You’re close already, aren’t you? I can feel your pussy clenching and spasming.”
“Yes,” I sob. “I’m close. I… I can’t—”
“Not yet.” He fists my hair again, tugging it back. The little pinpricks of pain only push me closer to the edge of an orgasm, and a tear leaks from my eye. I never knew sex could be like this. Raw, real, and consuming, body and soul. I don’t know how I can ever go back to normal after tonight.
He strokes his fingers over my clit at the same time he tugs on my hair, deepening the stinging ache at my scalp. It should be humiliating, but I love the position and the power imbalance. I don’t have to make any choices—only obey.
His hand gradually releases my hair, only to slide around my neck. He applies the faintest bit of pressure, not restricting my breathing in any real way, just letting me know that he could if he wanted to. My eyes roll into the back of my head, and more tears fall when he strokes my clit faster.
“Oh god,” I sob. “Oh fuck, Asher!”
“Come.”
God help me, I do. Hard. My orgasm is so intense I feel it from my toes all the way to my scalp, and fire licks at every inch of me.
He strokes my clit harder and faster, turning the pleasure borderline painful.
It’s so intense it’s almost too intense, and I instinctively try to crawl forward, needing a small reprieve.
His grip on my neck tightens and he yanks me back, spearing his cock even deeper inside of me. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he growls. “Stay with me. Feel it.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck” I cry.
I’m an incoherent mess by the time my orgasm recedes, leaving me with little aftershocks shaking me and the wind knocked out of me. My throat feels raw from shouting, and my pussy is so over sensitized I’m on the verge of genuinely crying.
Asher’s thrusts turn jerky and erratic—several mind-melting strokes later, he releases inside of me with a groan.
We both collapse on the bed, side by side. I’m face down, eyes fluttering, trying to come to my senses despite the pull of exhaustion.
Asher’s mission was achieved; I don’t think I’ll be able to walk after this. I’m utterly and thoroughly ruined, and even if Asher and I don’t work out, even if I spend the rest of my life disappointed because nothing else could possibly be this good, I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything.
I crack my eyes open and turn my head, facing Asher. His expression is a mixture of stunned and deeply satisfied. Seems we’re of one mind; that was not supposed to be as good as it was.
My brows pinch as a new thought occurs to me. “You didn’t wear a condom.” I can feel his release dripping out of me.
Asher turns to gaze at me, a frown marring his handsome face as he also comes to the same realization. “Oh, fuck—”
“It’s okay.” I yawn. “I’m on birth control for shit periods. As long as you’re clean—” I snap straight to alertness, a sudden bolt of energy forcing me to sit up. “You’re clean, right? You have to be—”
Asher cuffs a hand around my wrist and pulls me back down. “I’m clean. I’ve never gone in raw before, but I still get tested regularly. I can show you my results if it’ll put you at ease.”
I relax into his side again, curling up close to him and resting my head on his granite-hard shoulder. It doesn’t make for the most comfortable pillow, but it’s already becoming my favorite one. “I trust you.”
He gazes down at me with uncharacteristic softness. “Yeah?”
“Mhm.” I nod. “Please don’t make me regret it.” We both know I’m talking about more than just tonight; I trust him more than I remember trusting anyone in a long, long time, even though that’s probably ill-advised.
“I won’t,” he promises softly. He leans down and brushes his lips against mine in a featherlight kiss, sealing his words.
We lie in silence for a while, gazing at each other, still catching our breaths. All of my earlier fears have melted away in the wake of my multiple brain-scrambling orgasms.
“Is it always like that?” I ask quietly, needing to know if I’ve been missing out this entire time, or if what we have is something extraordinary.
Asher shakes his head, touching his forehead to mine. “No. It never is.”
“Mm.” I yawn again. “We should do that more often. Like… soon.”
A chuckle shakes his chest. “No problem, sweetheart, but somnophilia isn’t my thing. Let’s get some sleep, there’s always time in the morning.”
I’m halfway gone before he can finish his sentence.
The scents of sizzling bacon and eggs gently lure me from my sleep. I frown before my eyes even open—I haven’t had someone cook for me since Delilah and I roomed in college. Has she dropped by for an impromptu visit? Wouldn’t be her first time breaking into my house for shits and giggles.
I crack my eyes open. Since when are my sheets dark grey? And since when do I have such a nice view?
Oh, shit. The prior night’s events—the charity gala, the bakery, confessing my insecurities to Asher, and the mind-blowing sex—all flit through my mind on a reel. I shoot up and gaze around frantically. I didn’t set an alarm last night—what time is it?
My phone’s neatly laid out on a black, antique nightstand, plugged into a charger. Asher must’ve done that before going to sleep. Surprisingly thoughtful. When I check it, I see that it’s only 6am. I still have an hour before I need to head to HQ, which should be enough time to run home and shower.
“Morning, sweetheart.”
I startle so much my phone flies from my hand, and lands on the floor with a distinct crack.
Shit. If the screen’s cracked, I can’t afford to replace it for a while…
Asher crosses the room and picks up the phone, examining it. He winces, and my stomach falls. “Cracked,” he says with a grimace, turning the phone to face me. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to scare you.” His lips curve with a hint of a smile.
I let out a long sigh, pulling the sheets up a bit higher to fully cover myself. There’s no reasonable explanation to why I suddenly feel so shy after what we did last night, but wild sex under the cover of night is vastly different from early mornings when I probably look like shit.
“It’s fine.” It’s not fine. I need my phone to communicate, and the screen looks thoroughly shattered. But it is what it is.
Asher looks between the phone and my sullen expression, and comprehension dawns in his eyes. “I’ll take care of it.”
Tension stiffens my muscles. I’m not a charity case. “I don’t need—”
“I’ll take care of it,” he repeats slowly. “I need to be able to contact you.”
His tone tells me that this isn’t up for negotiation. Relief makes my shoulders sag, even if I dislike the thought of him needlessly spending money on me. I want to protest, but I literally can’t afford to, and he’s right. There are too many people I need to stay in contact with.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
“Mm. Come get some breakfast. I managed to find some bacon my chef’s been hiding from me in the back of my fridge.”
“Would you happen to know where my dress from last night is?” I ask shyly. I’m not joining him for breakfast naked.
He nods at an armchair in the corner of the room, where my dress is neatly folded.
“You might want something more comfortable for breakfast, though.” He opens a dresser drawer, rummages around, and pulls out a black shirt.
He brings it over to me. “Get dressed, sweetheart. I’ll drive you home after we’ve eaten. ”
Fifteen minutes later, I’ve freshened up in the bathroom and emerge from the bedroom wearing Asher’s shirt, which is long enough to pass for a dress. I find him setting two overflowing plates on the dining table, each filled with bacon, scrambled eggs, and some cut up fruit.
“Asher Lawrence cooking for someone.” I shake my head. “I did not see this coming.”
“I used to hang out with my grandparents’ chefs during the summer.” Asher’s eyes shadow. “The kitchen was the only place I could actually act like a kid.”
I take a seat at his dining table to the right of him, tucking one leg beneath me. I know he spent his school years at international boarding schools, but I didn’t know about his summers with his grandparents. “Are you close with your grandparents?”
“Closer than I am with my parents, but that isn’t much of an endorsement.
” He eats a piece of bacon. Butterflies take flight in my stomach as I watch his Adam’s apple bob with his swallows.
“My grandfather’s a businessman. Luxury imports and exports.
His company acts as the middleman in the high-end supply chain, and his infrastructure is genius.
He was always working when I was growing up—he retired a few years ago and handed the reins to my brother, but when we were younger…
” He shakes his head. “Running an empire doesn’t leave much room for family. ”
“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “What about your parents?”
“They were too caught up in each other to spare me any mind.” Asher shrugs, as if it’s not a big deal, but obviously this subject pains him, which pains me. I’m used to being second-best, while he’s used to being ignored altogether. I’m not sure which is worse.
“Were you close with your brother?”
“No, and that hasn’t changed. He’s the opposite of me—cunning and calculating.
I’m the reckless and angry one in the family.
” A bitter smile overtakes his lips, and my heart aches for the image of him, as a directionless boy, with nobody to root for him or protect him.
Bounced around between boarding schools but otherwise ignored.
No wonder he struggles with change so much; it sounds like he never had a consistent home base or anything real to return to. Venturing out into the world is a lot more terrifying when you don’t have a safe space.
I want to be his safe space.
“It sounds like our brothers would get along,” I say jokingly.
Asher mulls this over while chewing some eggs. “They’re both Machiavellian as fuck, but yours would go to the ends of the world to protect you. Mine is only out for himself.”
My heart breaks for him. I can’t stand the distance between us anymore, so I push my plate closer and scoot my chair until it’s pressing against his.
“They’ll probably both spend their lives alone as punishment for being such jerks.
” I say it lightly, but part of me worries about Hunter.
In some ways, he has his shit together in ways that I never will, but in others, he’s mostly isolated from the world.
“I used to think that I’d spend my life alone as punishment for being such an asshole.” Asher gazes at me, and I hear the words he doesn’t speak. Until you.
I do my best not to melt into a puddle. My endeavor is a miserable failure.
“I don’t mind your rough edges. So long as you never insinuate that a woman shouldn’t be in F1 again, and you don’t insult my abilities.”
“I won’t,” he says seriously. “I promise.”
I soften. “Then we’ll be alright.”
And that’s when I realize I’m in serious, deep shit… because I might be starting to fall for the surly driver who does a stellar job at hiding his heart of gold.