Chapter 19
Asher
The way Charlotte clings to me makes me want to eat her pussy that much harder. I flick my tongue over her clit, and focus all my attention there as I push a finger deep inside her. She’s tight as fuck, and I catalog that away for later.
When I fuck her, I’ll have to go slowly at first. I’ll have to give her time to acclimate to my size. I’m not trying to be an arrogant asshole about the size of my dick, I just know it’s bigger than most.
That the size of my cock compared to the tightness of her pussy is going to be a tight fit.
My eyes squeeze shut at the thought of being inside her. At fucking this tight heat.
Charlotte continues to moan as I try to push another finger inside her. Fuck.
“I’m going to make you come so hard. All over me. Multiple times. Understand?”
I glance up, taking in the precious sight of her. Eyes squeezed shut. Hair feathered out across the pillow. Her mouth forming an ‘O’, she’s gorgeous.
“Understand?” I repeat the command.
She nods. “Got it. Yes, sir.”
Her legs tremble slightly as I lower my head back down, focusing on her growing desire. Her orgasm so close, I can nearly taste it.
I keep fucking her with my fingers, my tongue lapping at her clit as my own cock hardens painfully. I need release as badly as she does.
“I need to fuck you,” I tell her, wanting her to get off a few times before I slam so deep inside her.
“I need you to fuck me too,” she calls out, her fingernails digging into the skin of my skull.
The sensation eggs me on.
Every warning light on my internal ops board is blinking red.
This crosses every line in the handbook—improper fraternization, compromised command presence, emotional payload I can’t quantify.
My threat-assessment engine fires off scenarios—mission fallout, reputation bleed-out, collateral vulnerability—but the intel doesn’t override the target lock of her gaze.
I’m breaching anyway, full tilt, because for once the objective isn’t survive.
It’s her.
Protocol evaporates, evaporating like mist off a firing range.
Chain of command, spotless record, the hard shell I’ve worn for years—none of it matters now.
All that registers is the way her pulse stutters beneath my fingertips and the trust shimmering in her eyes.
The moment my name spills from her lips, the rest of the world goes dark, the mission parameters rewriting themselves in a single heartbeat:
Primary objective: keep Charlotte safe.
Secondary objective: make Charlotte mine.
The weight of it hits with ballistic force, knocking the air from my lungs.
I’m not just protecting her… I’m tethered to her.
Falling? No, free-fall has already happened.
Somewhere between the first time I carried her out of danger and the moment she whispered “sir” with that wicked little smile, gravity shifted.
Now there’s only one undeniable, full-spectrum truth…
I love her—recklessly, completely, to hell with the consequences.
I fist my dick in my hand, zeroing in on the distance between us. I need her floats through my mind over and over. “Charlotte,” I whisper as her grip on my hair tightens.
“Oh, Asher. I’m coming!” Her body spasms around me, and I keep the flat of my tongue pressed against her clit, letting her hips ride out her orgasm on my face.
A breathtaking sight. Committed to memory.
Her orgasm keeps going, her body not slowing down. I worry for a fraction of a second about what the harm of coming too hard can do to her body, but then I keep my face pressed close to her sweet spot.
“Asher,” she calls out, her orgasm cresting.
I press tiny kisses along the inside of her thigh as her body calms, her heart rate returning to normal.
“You’re beautiful.” I move up her body, letting my dick settle between her spread thighs.
“You’re gorgeous.” I kiss up her neck. “You’re so fucking sexy, and now you’re going to do as I say, right? ”
Her eyes flutter closed before opening slowly to look at me. “Yeah,” she says in a breathy whisper.
“Good girl.” I reach between our bodies, fisting my cock with one hand. I’m hard. Probably harder than I’ve ever been. The mission horizon narrows to a single vector—one shot, one route, the only way to close the loop. The only way to handle this desire burning deep inside me.
“I want you,” she whispers.
“Birth control?” I ask, wondering about her cycle. Could she get pregnant? I should have brought condoms. But why would I?
I never could have prepared for this.
“Yes, I’m on birth control.”
I blow out an exasperated breath. “Thank fucking god,” I breathe out in relief.
She laughs lightly. “You should have seen your face after you asked. Like you were trying to map out the probability of if I’ll get pregnant or not.”
I nod. “I was.”
“You’re always so analytical. Just let go for tonight. Don’t worry about me, I want you to enjoy yourself.”
I gaze down at her. “I am.”
She lifts up slightly, and I move so I don’t crush her. “No, I really want you to enjoy this.” She moves off the bed, and I stalk her as she crosses the room. She stops at my tactical bag.
“What are you doing?”
“Do you have anything fun in here?” She unzips it, and I fly across the room so she doesn’t grab something that might hurt her.
“Define fun.”
“Handcuffs, rope, … I don’t know.” She kneels beside the bag on the floor.
“I have both of those. I’d never use the handcuffs on you, however. They’ll dig into skin.” I grab her wrists. “And your skin is too soft for that.”
“You could tie me up,” she offers, and I think about that for a full ten seconds.
Charlotte at my mercy. Charlotte tied up for me to have my way with her.
I make a snap decision. “On the bed. Now,” I bark out.
She hurries across the room, bounding onto the bed until she’s on her knees, waiting anxiously. I see she’s into this probably more than I am.
I reach into my gear bag and draw out the coil of static-line—polyester sheath, low stretch.
I run it through my hands once, checking for frays.
I've got a half-dozen rope options in the kit, but this is the least abrasive against skin. It’s not rated for suspension work—no point rigging overhead when that’s not the play tonight.
For a clean, secure bind behind her wrists, though?
This line will hold exactly the way I need.
I advance, slow and deliberate—predator pace, measured breaths filling the room with anticipation. “You’re a very naughty girl, do you know that?” My voice is a low vibration, rolling across the distance between us.
She follows every step, pupils blown wide, lips parted. Candlelight flickers over her soft skin, over the hitch of her chest as she inhales. “I am, sir,” she answers, soft yet certain, the single honorific sliding into my bloodstream like liquid fire.
The effect is immediate—pulse spiking, muscles tightening, something raw and territorial unwinding inside me. Her obedience, her tease, flips a switch buried deep in my wiring. My heart kicks hard against my ribs—full tactical tachycardia—but this is no threat response. It’s need.
A growl rumbles out before I can leash it. I close the remaining space, letting the air thicken with promise, every sense fixed on the woman who just set my entire world to red-alert hunger.
My voice drops into command cadence, crisp and unmistakable. “Down on the rug. Face the windows—now.”
She moves without hesitation, silk pooling around her thighs as she kneels on the plush wool runner, then shifts so her back is to me.
Moonlight filters through the glass and paints silver curves along the lines of her shoulders.
The obedience, the trust, ignites a feral satisfaction low in my chest.
I unwind the coil of soft polyester line, the fibers sliding cool across my palm. “Wrists,” I instruct, and she offers her arms behind her, elbows slightly bent, fingers trembling in delicious anticipation.
I loop the rope twice, snug but not harsh, letting the smooth sheath kiss her skin.
A quick double-column wrap—secure yet easy-release if she needs it.
I test the tension with a gentle tug; she gasps, spine arching in a silent invitation.
Perfect. A single slipknot sits against the inside of her wrist, ready to pull free in an instant if she so much as whispers my name the wrong way.
The sight of her bound and waiting unspools heat through every vein. Awareness sharpens: her breathing shallow, hair falling forward in soft waves, the flex of her shoulder blades. My own heartbeat hammers against my ribs—hard, heavy, a percussion of want.
I rest a hand at the small of her back, lips brushing her ear. “Tell me if anything hurts.”
“All I feel,” she whispers, voice lush with excitement, “is you.”
Control and desire collide, sparking bright behind my eyes. I draw a slow breath, steadying the storm, then lean closer, letting the night stretch taut around us—every second thrumming with the promise of what comes next.
We’re so close to the window that at any second somebody could walk by and glance this way and see us. For some reason that makes me uncontrollably feral. I want her this way, however, I want to see what my good girl can do with my cock sliding deep down her throat.
I stand before her, my heart pounding low in my eardrums. “I want to watch you suck my dick. Want to see how well you can handle this monster of a cock.”
She licks her lips as I move around her to where I’m standing right in front of her, my back to the window. “What if somebody sees?”
A smirk tilts my lips. “Nobody will be able to see you, sweetheart.” And from this vantage point, they wouldn’t. All they’d see is me. And I couldn’t care less. Let them watch.
She licks her lips and my pulse spikes. “Okay. I trust you, Asher. I want to make you feel good.”
“Perfect girl. You’re so fucking perfect.” I feed her my cock, letting the tip slip past her fuckable lips.