Chapter 24 #2
I want her to tell me I’m all she’ll ever want, but I know that’s unfair. Still, the caveman part of me that wants to keep her all to myself, that wants her to forget her life in LA and build a new one here with me, almost says the words anyway.
“Then let’s make sure everyone knows it, yeah?”
Our eyes meet. I grip her thigh with my shoulder, pull her hips forward, and take my first taste.
“Oh shit!” she cries out as my tongue swirls over her clit.
God, it’s just as good as I knew it would be. Fuck, no. It’s even better. I keep her pinned to me and do what I’ve wanted to do for weeks. I fucking devour her. I roll my tongue over her clit and suck it into my mouth.
“Yes, Ash!” she cries out as I tongue-fuck her pussy so hard that she grabs the back of my head and starts grinding her hips while begging for more.
She starts pulling my hair, and I couldn’t give two shits if she ripped it out by the roots, as long as she keeps riding my face like she’s doing. Her arousal starts to drip down my chin as I give her clit some special attention and replace my tongue with my two fingers.
“Oh my god!” she moans, her back arching and her tits bouncing. “I think I’m gonna—” She doesn’t even finish the sentence before her body convulses and tightens around me.
“Beautiful,” I murmur, feeling every wave and aftershock.
But the biggest aftershock of all is the knowledge that walking away from her might be the hardest thing I’ll ever do.
Harder than growing up isolated and alone.
Harder than leaving home at eighteen.
And even then, walking away from my music career for a fate I’d been avoiding for years.
But I’d gladly go through it all and more if it meant I got to keep her at the end of it all.
MERCURY
I’m still catching my breath from the mind-blowing orgasm he just gave me when Asher stands up and starts unbuckling his belt. The sight of it does nothing to slow my racing heart as he slowly slides the zipper down and then hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his jeans.
“Wait,” I surprise myself by calling out. “I want to do it.”
His brow lifts, but his movements still halt. “All right.”
His heavy gaze watches as I sit up, not at all shy about how his eyes linger on my breasts before gradually drifting to my open thighs.
I thought I’d feel more…insecure? Being this naked and exposed in front of him. But seeing the way he looks at me, so full of possessive passion, makes me feel quite confident.
And kind of sexy.
His hands fall loosely to his sides, and mine take over, tugging at the heavy waistband of the dark denim until it slides over his ass and down his thick thighs, leaving him only in black boxer briefs.
He kicks the pants aside, and I’m left staring at him.
I know a lot of people have him on posters in their rooms, album covers, and shirts with his face on them, but only I have the real version standing right in front of me.
Only I get to run my hands over his inked skin and feel these defined muscles flex beneath my fingers. Only I hear the deep groan he lets out as I skate my palm over his heavy erection through his boxer briefs.
“Mercury,” he pleads, his head lolling back in pained ecstasy. “Please.”
My heart pounds with excitement and perhaps a healthy dose of trepidation. I’ve never liked how society defines virginity. It’s heteronormative and misogynistic. But I can’t deny that this—what we’re about to do—feels important.
Not necessarily the physical aspect of it, because that part is only as meaningful as you make it. But the emotions we’re bringing into it?
That’s what makes it different. It’s the deep, penetrating stare he gives me when I finally shed him of his boxer briefs. And the reverent way his eyes slowly wander over every inch of my body, as if he’s trying to memorize it.
This isn’t just about sex. This isn’t just about scratching an itch or passing the time while we’re stuck together.
It’s so much more, and that terrifies me.
It’s going to make walking away so much harder.
For the first time, we’re both naked, and I realize I have no idea what to do next. Logically, I have a pretty good idea. But I don’t want to think right now. I just want to feel.
“I can see the wheels turning in your head,” he says with a soft smile. “Are you nervous?”
“No,” I answer right away, before following it up with a “Yes.”
“It’s okay,” he says, cupping the back of my neck and pulling me closer. A shiver races up my spine as his erection presses into my stomach. “I am too.”
My head jerks up, searching for any hint of amusement. There is none. “Really?”
He nods. “I’ve never been someone’s first. At least not that I’m aware of. It’s a lot to live up to. I want to make sure it’s memorable.”
I hate the way he says first, as if it doesn’t bother him in the least that there will be others after him.
That he won’t be the last—and neither will I.
I swallow and blink away those jealous thoughts. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” I assure him. “Like you said weeks ago, you’re giving me memories, not lessons, and I’ll never forget a single one.”
“Then how about we make some more?” he says just before his mouth crashes into mine.
We fall onto the bed, the feel of his hot skin brushing against mine like a drug I never knew I needed. I widen my legs to make room for his large frame as his pepper kisses trail down my neck and collarbone.
“Fuck, I need to grab a condom,” he mutters, a moment before he rises from the bed. I almost tell him I’m on birth control, a precaution my mother drilled into Presley and me when we were still teens. But going without a condom is something you do with a partner you intend to stay with.
Not one you plan on leaving in a month.
“Okay.” I nod, focusing on his round ass rather than the sharp stab of pain I feel whenever I think of our time running out. He quickly rifles through his duffel and pulls out an unopened box of condoms.
“Optimistic?” I tease.
“Very.” He grins.
It’s kind of fascinating watching the way he rips the condom open and rolls it on. At this point, I’m just fascinated with anything to do with his dick, if I’m being honest.
“You’re blushing,” he says. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking many things.”
“Like?”
“Like, whether you’re ever going to tell me how you got that cupcake tattoo?”
He snorts. “This tattoo artist I really like in Hollywood was struggling after an unexpected medical bill. I snuck in just before closing one day and tried to spot him some cash, but he refused. He said he wouldn’t take it without giving me something in return.
So I picked a random tattoo from one of those gumball machines. ”
I laugh, eyeing the adorable little cupcake. “You’re kidding?”
“Nope. Now, tell me what else you’re thinking now that I’ve satisfied your curiosity.”
I press my lips together, a thrill of excitement rising. “I’m thinking about all the things I want you to do to me.”
His eyes blaze with heat. “Tell me,” he demands. “Are these book-related fantasies?”
I shake my head. “No, though I’m sure I can look up a few of those if you want.”
I chuckle. “Maybe later. Right now, I’m more interested in what’s going on in your head now.”
I hesitate. Not because I’m embarrassed, but because I’m worried he will say no. “I don’t want you to be gentle,” I say, and instantly watch his eyes widen in surprise.
“What do you mean?”
“We’ve never done this, and I know you’re acutely aware of that, so I’m assuming you’ll be gentle and take your time—”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“But I don’t want to be treated like a doll, either, Ash,” I explain as he stands naked, staring at me from the foot of the bed. “I want to lose control.” My eyes meet his. “Lose control with me?”
He doesn’t answer. He just moves. He’s standing one moment, then on top of me the next, bracing himself so his heavy body doesn’t crush me. When his mouth meets mine, it’s brutal and hungry—exactly what I asked for.
He isn’t holding anything back.
His hands are everywhere. He slides one down my ribcage, over my hip, and grips my thigh. The other tangles in my hair so he can kiss me more deeply. The feel of my hard nipples brushing against his chest is so erotic that it makes my core clench.
But it’s not enough.
“More,” I beg.
“So impatient,” he whispers against my ear.
“You would be too if you’d waited this long.”
He gives me a serious look. “I might as well have,” he says. “Being with you makes me forget there was anyone before you.”
We kiss again, but this time there’s a desperation to it, as if we both know we’re running out of time. He keeps kissing me as he grips his cock and lines up our bodies. He doesn’t stop kissing me as he nudges my entrance, and I feel him slide into me for the first time.
“Oh god,” I gasp when we break apart for air. “Oh fuck.”
I watch him pull out and tilt his hips back and forward, sending waves of pleasure up my spine. I had no idea a man could move like that. It’s hot as hell.
His eyes are molten lava as he watches me. “I won’t treat you like a doll, but I refuse to hurt you,” he says with conviction. “Tell me you’re okay.”
A sheepish smile tugs at my lips. “I’m more than okay.”
He smirks. “Good.” Then he slams into me hard, and we both cry out. I feel so full, yet desperately needy. I completely understand why people crave sex, because right now, I would give anything to make this last forever.
“Don’t stop,” I tell him, digging my nails into his ass as my legs and ankles curl around his waist.
“Wasn’t fucking planning on it,” he says through gritted teeth. He pulls out, then drives back in. “Christ, you feel amazing.”
He bends down and kisses me, and I feel it all the way to my soul.
Oh god, I think I’m in love with this man.
Maybe a part of me has always been. Even back when I was a shy teen with a silly crush and a poster on my wall.
But nothing about this feels silly.
His pace quickens. Our bodies glisten with sweat, and the room fills with heavy breathing and cries of passion. I feel that familiar ache deep in my belly. It begins as a flutter and grows into a firestorm.
“You’re getting close, aren’t you?” Asher says knowingly.
“Yes,” I practically moan.
Leaning back on his heels, he pushes my knees to my chest and then sucks his thumb into his mouth. “Next time, you’re going to do this,” he says, a moment before he takes that wet finger and presses it directly against my clit. I let out a deep groan. “And I’m going to watch.”
I don’t know whether it’s the way he’s moving deep inside me, the slick circles he’s making with his thumb, or the erotic pictures he’s painting with his words, but suddenly I’m hurtling over the edge.
“Asher, yes!” I chant yes about a dozen more times as my orgasm takes over, and I ride every wave of rippling pleasure.
“You’re squeezing my cock like a vise grip, Merc,” he says between thrusts. His hands slide up to my waist and tighten. “I want to flip you over. Think you can take it?”
“Yes.”
He doesn’t hesitate. He pulls out, flips me over, grabs my hips, and plunges back in.
“Oh, holy shit!” I cry out, my voice muffled by my face pressed into the mattress and bed linens.
Ask me if I care?
He doesn’t fuck me like a breakable virgin. He fucks me hard, and I gladly take it all, crying out his name as he grunts mine and comes deep inside me, filling the condom I hate that we have to use.
Because there is one thing I know for certain.
Asher may be my first, but I’d give almost anything for him to be my last.
My one and only.