Chapter Eleven #2
Instead, I simply watch him until he slides his hand down the curve of my waist and cups my hip, right where the slit exposes my bare skin. He presses his thumb to my bone, hard enough that I feel it all the way up my spine.
"I feel you looking at me, begging to be ruined," he says, still staring straight ahead.
I shake my head, pretending I don't know what he's talking about. It's a lie, though. I've been desperate since I put the plug in. Maybe since I saw it in his hands. "You're imagining things."
He turns, framing my face in his hands. "I'm going to take you home with me tonight," he says quietly, "and I'm going to keep you on my cock for as long as I fucking want."
I shiver, but not from the wind. He spends most nights in my bed, but I've yet to spend a night in his, not sure I'll survive being let into his space like I belong there.
I'm not sure I can be his in that way and then pretend it meant nothing when our agreement ends.
But…I want it anyway, so fucking badly it's ridiculous.
"You're going to ruin me," I say, meaning it.
He just laughs, that cold, beautiful sound that's better than any music I've ever heard. "That's the idea, princess. We both know it's what you want, anyway."
We leave the party early, sliding out past the army of security guards and photographers, and into the waiting cavern of his limo.
The divider is up before the driver even pulls away.
Asher drags me onto his lap, my knees digging into the leather, my dress hiked up to my waist.
"Take it off," he commands, already tugging the zipper down.
I swallow, my fingers trembling as I tug the straps down my shoulders. The fabric pools at my waist. My nipples harden in the cool air.
He wastes no time sucking one into his mouth, biting until I whimper.
He pulls back, his eyes glittering in the dark. "You're going to ride me all the way home," he says.
"And if I don't?" I ask, just to see what he'll do.
His lips curve in a smile that could split me in two. "Then I'll let down the divider and fuck you in front of the driver. Your call."
I straddle him, the dress bunched around my hips, and reach down to free his cock. It's already hard, burning hot against my palm.
He pushes my thong aside, dragging me down onto him in one rough thrust. I gasp as he stretches and fills me all at once.
He doesn't give me time to adjust. He clamps one hand around my hip and moves me how he wants, up and down, grinding me against him until I'm shaking. His other hand slips between my cheeks, his fingers clutching at the flared base of the plug.
His eyes lock with mine as he slowly pulls it out like he's going to remove it. Except, right when it's about to pop out, he pushes it back inside, fucking me with it.
I throw my head back, moaning at the dual sensations.
"You fucking love this, don't you?"
"Yes," I whimper, unable to deny it.
The car jerks over a pothole, and I nearly bite through my tongue as it forces him and the plug deeper. He fucks me with it for several moments, his other hand sliding up to my throat.
"Say it," he growls, pounding up into me. "Say you're mine."
I shake my head, but it's useless. My body is already betraying me, my pussy clenching around him while I claw at his shoulders.
He squeezes my throat, just enough to make the world narrow to a single point of fire, and pushes the plug in again, grinding it against my asshole.
"Say it," he repeats.
"I'm yours," I say, my voice a desperate whisper against his shoulder.
He groans, slamming into me harder. I feel my orgasm building, wild and perfect, both pain and pleasure.
His hand slides from my neck to my jaw, forcing my face up to meet his eyes. "I want to watch you come," he says.
I shatter around him within seconds, my whole body shaking. I fight to keep my eyes on his, refusing to look away. He keeps fucking me through it, every stroke relentless.
When he comes, he pulls me down onto him, biting my lip until I taste blood. I shiver, licking it from my lips, loving the metallic tang and the way it makes me feel so alive. Or maybe it's his cum sliding down the inside of my thigh that makes me feel alive.
Even after his cock finishes pulsing inside me, he holds me down on him, his hands still locked around my hips.
"There isn't a single man alive who could survive you," he breathes against my neck.
"You're doing a pretty good job so far," I murmur, slumping forward against his chest.
He laughs, pressing a kiss to my hair. For once, I feel like maybe he's actually happy. Maybe I am, too.
When the car stops, he doesn't let me fix my dress. He makes me walk through the lobby with his cum dripping down my thigh, wearing nothing but his jacket slung around my shoulders, heels, and a ruined thong.
The doorman's eyes go wide, but Asher just nods at him. "Good evening," he says politely.
I want to die from embarrassment, but I love it. God help me, I do. If people could see me now, they wouldn't think I was my mom, destined to follow in her doomed footsteps. They'd see me—fucked up, complicated, disastrous me.
Asher drags me into the elevator, pins me against the glass, and fucks me again before we even reach the penthouse.
This time, he doesn't make me say anything. But I feel the truth echoing in my soul anyway.
I'm his. In every fucking way possible, I'm his.