Chapter 24
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
IVY
“Had fun?”
I pause in the entrance, door hanging open and keys in hand, then kick it shut behind me.
“Mhmm.” I drag my gaze across every plane of his chest without an ounce of shame. “Loads.”
Why does he have to look fuck-able? All the time.
Also, why did I come home this drunk.
Khloe hiccups, swaying sideways. “Ivy danced with a guy...”
“Bed.” Asher cuts her off without looking away from me. “Now.”
“But...”
“Khloe.”
I swallow a laugh, because when did he get so serious about everything.
Khloe snorts, catching the railing as she stumbles up the stairs. “Fine.”
And then it’s just us, the way it always ends up.
I shrug my coat off one shoulder, lamplight catching the dark silk of the dress Khloe forced me into when all I wanted was to drink in my sweatpants and cardigan.
“Why are you still up?” My eyes grow heavy.
“Somebody had to make sure you didn’t do something stupid.” He leans back against the counter as I kick off my heels. “Again.”
“Maybe I like stupid.” It drops lower than I mean it to, but the green fairy dissolved whatever filter I had left.
I move closer. I need more of him, simple as that.
He searches my face, mouth twitching. “You’re drunk.”
My finger almost finds his chest. “And you’re shirtless.”
Another step. “You know, you’re making this rather hard to...”
His palm slams over my mouth, his nose dragging along the curve of my jaw. “If you don’t keep this mouth shut, pretty soon I’m gonna throw out all the fucking rules.”
He leans back enough to give me room, and I’m too drunk to want it.
“Maybe it’s time we throw them out anyway?” Lifting my brows, I keep my voice low.
He catches my wrist before I can touch him, locking it above my head. The seconds stretch, and I’m fucking tired. Tired of the games, the back and forth, all of it.
I flatten my free palm over his chest. “Oh well. Guess we keep playing, and maybe tomorrow I’ll bring one home to fuck...”
His hand closes around my throat and he shoves me into the wall, his mouth crashing down on mine and swallowing my laugh.
Shit.
Reality splits into some manic nightmare where I’d live and die for him.
Because I would.
Oh God...
He’s kissing me and I should pull away, I know I should, but he groans and my mouth opens on a broken sound, and I lose whatever shred of self-respect I had left as I fall straight into him.
His thigh drives between mine, forcing me open, his tongue exploring my mouth.
Forcing himself to stop, he rests his forehead on mine.
“Asher...” I warn, ignoring my heart thudding like it’s trying to crack my ribs.
“Fuck.” He bites on a groan. “I know.”
I search his eyes. Mine. Every single part of him is mine.
“Couldn’t help it,” he whispers over my lips. “I’m fucking done, Venom.”
He kisses me again, slower this time, and every lick of his tongue drops me deeper. With a smirk against my mouth, he flips his middle finger toward the corner of the room.
That familiar heat comes roaring back, burning me from the inside, and suddenly this isn’t enough, I need his hands, his weight, him.
His palm slides down the wall and lands on my ass.
“Is this what you wanted?” The words are hot against my pulse before his mouth softens into a feather-light kiss. “To push me until I snapped? Until I threw everything out for you?”
My nails dig into his shoulders. “Maybe I just wanted to see if you’d throw me out too.”
He laughs, the sound rattling through his chest. “I think we established that answer already.” His fingers trail down my back until they find the zipper. “Now let me fucking ruin you.”
Silk whispers over my skin before the dress pools at my feet.
Asher has never once made me feel undesirable. Which, historically, hasn’t done him any favors, since any time I want to piss him off, win an argument, or make a point, I just get naked or stare into his eyes until one of us breaks. But right now, this feels different.
You wanted this. You wanted him feral.
With every deep inhale, he drinks me, and I feel every heavy second of it.
“You wore no fucking underwear.” His lip curls, eyes going dark. “To a club,” he finishes, closing the gap.
My back hits the wall when I try to step away.
“Where you let another man touch you?” The muscles along both sides of his jaw flex.
“I...”
He cups the back of my neck and forces me onto my toes, dragging his lips over my collarbone. His teeth snap at my skin and I whimper before I can catch it.
Asher’s hand slides between my thighs and burns every other thought to nothing.
“Tell me about those guys you danced with.” His grip tightens. “Did they touch you like this?”
Knuckles skim my ribs, tracing every bone on purpose.
I arch into him. “N-no.”
Asher goes still. I swear to God, if he’s done all this just to pull away, this is the last time I embarrass myself.
A patient smirk presses to my skin. He’s enjoying this. Dragging it out, savoring how easy I come apart under him.
“No?” he murmurs, voice rough. “Then show me how they touched you, Venom.”
I guide his hand to my waist, copying the hold the stranger had on me.
“That all?” His smirk practically splits his face in half. “So fucking innocent.”
I glare at him. “Like they’d be able to touch me any other way.”
He pins my wrists to the wall above my head and slowly rolls his hips into me. His length drags against my clit through too much fabric and I bite the inside of my cheek, killing the sound before it escapes.
“Careful, Venom.” Asher presses into me again, slower. “Don’t wanna wake Atlas and be the reason I kill him when he sees you naked.”
Defeated, I drop my forehead against his chest. “Fuck you.”
It’s the alcohol. It has to be the alcohol.
Asher drags his teeth along my jaw. “Did it feel like this?”
I shake my head, my thoughts coming loose. “Didn’t… didn’t feel like this.”
“Like what?” He pauses, and the absence of his touch is its own torture.
I grab his wrist and press his hand over my pussy.
Asher stills, swallowing before dragging that cocky smirk back into place.
Fuck my pride at this point.
I thrust my hips into his palm, demanding the friction, forcing him to sink those heavy fucking fingers inside me.
He lets out a rough sound, catching my clit with his thumb and pressing hard enough to literally buckle my knees.
His lips brush my ear. “Tell me.”
“Like I’m on fire,” I admit, the confession purring out of me. “Like I might die if you stop.”
The color vanishes from Asher’s eyes before he kisses me. “Good,” he growls against my lips. “Saves me wasting a bullet.”
This is fucking dangerous. So bad.
He steps back, looking me over with deliberate slowness.
“Turn around,” he says, barely holding on. “Hands on the wall.”
My palms land where he told them to. Every nerve in my body runs hot, feeding the one thing it has always needed. Him.
But Asher takes his sweet fucking time, winding me up like a toy. Warmth gathers at my back while he stays close enough for me to feel each breath, his skin never quite meeting mine.
“You know,” he drawls, every syllable grazing the nape of my neck. “I should make you wait. Teach you a lesson about running off and letting other men put their hands on you.”
His finger follows a lazy path down my back, and I bite my lip to keep from moaning. “But I’m not feeling particularly patient tonight, and since you’ve seen me with Camille, I’d say we’re even...”
“Not even fucking close,” I snarl, but the words cut off as Asher slams his large hand over my mouth, his body crushing me harder into the wall.
“If you were smart,” his mouth at my ear, and I curl my fingers, “you wouldn’t fucking push me right now.”
He slides his hand to my breast, finger and thumb rolling my nipple until I arch.
Keeping his other hand over my mouth, he holds me there. “Now I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to answer them. Understood?”
I nod against his calloused palm.
He trails his fingers over my stomach, dipping lower. “How many men have you killed, Venom?”
The question catches me off guard, but not enough to pull me out of the torment of his touch.
“Too many...” I mumble into his palm as his hand slides between my thighs and finds my clit.
“Good girl.”
I gasp when the heel of his thumb grinds down, pressure driving my hips forward to meet him.
“And how many have you fucked?”
Why the fuck is he asking me this.
“Nine.”
Asher laughs under his breath, sliding his slick finger through me, and I grind against him like anything less than his cock filling me will never be enough.
“Interesting ratio,” he teases. I’m going to die. “Tell me, which do you enjoy more?”
His palm lifts off my mouth, letting fresh air into my lungs. “K-killing.”
“Liar,” Asher growls, and his finger curls on the next stroke almost bringing me to my knees. His thumb finds my clit with a pressure so merciless I grab his arm just to stay upright.
“Your body gives you away.” His mouth drops to my ear. “It’s fucking built for this. For me.”
I’m close, so fucking close, every drag of his hand driving me toward the edge. And he stops.
A broken whimper slips out. “Asher!” I gasp, my hips jerking after the touch.
His hand slides up to my throat, settling there with enough pressure to speed my pulse. “How old were you,” he asks, “the first time you took a life?”
“S-sixteen,” I stammer, and the answer pulls me straight back into that girl’s skin.
His fingers tighten by a fraction. “And the first time you got fucked?”
I swallow against his palm. “I don’t want…” My breath catches, warmth rushing into my cheeks as the words die there. I don’t care. I need this infuriating man with the same desperate certainty I need fucking therapy.
Which is a lot.
He hoists me higher, and I hook my legs around his waist until his hard cock grinds against my clit.
“Last question,” Asher says, his breath dragging over my throat. “How long have you wanted me? For real wanted me?”