Chapter Twenty #2
"Good girl," he breathes, burying his face between my legs. He doesn't go slow. He doesn't tease. He splits me open with his tongue on the first pass, pinning my thighs wide, his hands shaking a little with restraint.
I buck against his face, greedy for more, but he's already a step ahead, licking me with long, rough strokes that get dirtier and more desperate every time I moan his name.
"Asher, please—" I try to get the words out, but he just growls and sucks my clit so hard I see stars.
He pushes two fingers inside me and crooks them, fucking me with his mouth and hand until I'm clawing at the sheets, until my toes curl and my back bows off the bed. The pleasure is relentless, almost painfully so, and I still want more of it. I always want more with him.
"You missed this, didn't you?" he rasps between licks, his breath hot on my skin. "You missed letting me ruin you like this."
"Yes!" I scream, not denying it. "I missed it so fucking much."
He slips his other hand down between us, spreading my cheeks. His gaze flicks to mine as he circles my asshole with one fingertip.
My whole body tightens in response. I shudder, a helpless sound clawing out of my throat.
"God, look at you," he growls, and then he's got two fingers in my pussy and one in my ass, fucking both holes at once while he flattens his tongue against my clit.
The heat is brutal, blinding. Perfect.
My voice goes shrill as I come. I claw at the sheets, at his hair, at anything I can reach.
He doesn't stop. Not even when I'm begging.
He adds another finger, then another, splitting me wide. I nearly come off the bed from the shock of it.
"Oh my god," I gasp, the words torn from me. It's not pain. It's something else, something so perfect and overwhelming that my vision goes black for a second.
He doesn't let up, doesn't go slow. He spits on my ass and fucks me with all four fingers at once, obscene and filthy and exactly what I wanted. The stretch is so fucking perfect that I can't help the strangled, animal sound that rips out of me.
He slides his hand all the way in, working me open, and then pulls his fingers out just long enough to replace them with his tongue. The wet, hot glide of it against my asshole is enough to make me see stars.
I arch off the bed, shaking, my voice ragged as I scream his name.
"God, you filthy little thing," he says, his voice thick with awe and hunger. He sounds reverent, like I'm a miracle he's finally allowed to worship. "You greedy, perfect slut. I missed this so much."
He devours me, his tongue and fingers working in tandem, using my body like an instrument he's been dying to play. He's relentless, insatiable.
When he finally pulls his face away, it's only to watch me shudder through another orgasm, then another, until I'm sobbing and begging for mercy.
But he's not done.
He flips me over, dragging my ass up onto his lap. I can feel his cock, hot and hard and leaking, pressed against my entrance, but not pushing in yet.
He grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back so I'm bent like a bow, my breath a wild pant. He kisses me hard and messy, so I can taste myself on his tongue.
"I love you, you beautiful disaster," he whispers against my lips, his words a mixture of adoration and awe. His hand closes tighter at the nape of my neck, holding me where he wants me. "Say it back."
"I love you," I moan, not caring how desperate I sound. "I love you, Asher, I fucking love you. Please—"
He bites my lower lip until it bleeds, then laughs with a kind of twisted relief that sends me soaring higher.
"Good girl," he says, the words hot against my mouth. "Now I'm going to fuck you until you can't stand."
"Yes," I beg, "please, please—"
He answers by slamming into me so hard I fall forward, my hands scrabbling at the sheets. He's thick, brutal, barely giving me time to adjust before he claims me, holds me, uses me. The sting is sharp, sweet, absolutely perfect.
I want more, so much more.
He sets a punishing pace, every thrust battering the air from my lungs, savage and relentless. Each time he bottoms out, he grabs my hips and yanks me back onto him, his fingers digging in so deep I know I'll feel it for days.
I start to sob, overwhelmed by the intensity of it… by the pleasure, the pain, and the way it feels to finally let him wreck me again. The way it feels to be his in every fucking way again.
I can't hold the tears back. I don't even try.
He slows and then pulls out, forcing me to turn so he can look at me. He strokes my face, his thumb smearing the wetness across my cheek. For a second, he looks terrified again
"Am I hurting you?" he whispers, his voice shaking.
I shake my head so hard my teeth rattle. "No, never. It f-feels so good, Asher. So good. Don't stop. Please, don't ever stop. I need this. Need you."
The truth unlocks something in him, setting him free. Terror falls from his expression, replaced by the kind of desire that sears me all the way to my bones.
He grabs my throat, just hard enough to steal my breath, and pushes into me again, even harder than before.
"God, I missed this," he growls in my ear. "I missed you, all of you. You're so fucking perfect, Brielle, so perfect for me."
He fucks me until I'm delirious, until my body is one trembling orgasm after another, until I can't tell where the pain ends and the pleasure begins.
His eyes never leave mine, even when I'm writhing, even when I'm shaking and sobbing and clinging to his wrist like it's the last thing tethering me to earth.
"Look at you," he pants, driving into me until I'm screaming with every thrust. "So fucking pretty when you cry for me like this. My greedy girl."
I can't speak. I can only moan, my back arching, my body shuddering with every brutal, perfect snap of his hips. He knows exactly how to break me down to nothing, and exactly how to piece me together again. He always has.
His hand tightens around my throat, cutting off my whimpers, turning them to wheezes.
"You know why I love choking you like this?
" he whispers, his voice rough and reverent as I fight for the tiny slivers of air he allows me.
"When I'm the one deciding if you breathe, I know nothing can ever take you from me again.
Not fate, not the fucking universe, not even you.
You're mine, princess. You always have been. "
He lets go of my throat, and the oxygen floods back, sending me hurtling into a shattering orgasm.
I scream, a raw, animal sound as my body convulses. He fucks me through it, his hands everywhere—holding me, bruising me, protecting me.
"Choke for me," he says. My hands fly to his wrist, squeezing it, desperate for even one more second of that dizzying rush. He squeezes too—until the world blurs, until pleasure burns through me white hot and terrifying.
"Breathe for me," he orders, releasing my throat again, allowing air to rush back in like even my lungs obey his command.
"Live for me," he begs, and I do. God, I do. If I ever doubted it, I don't now. Every part of me is alive again, lit up and searing for him.
He holds me down and fucks me, his face buried in my neck, his voice pouring filth and worship into my ear.
"My perfect slut," he groans. "My world. My fucking everything."
I come again, so hard I black out for a second, the whole world dissolving around me. When I crash back to earth, he's still there, still inside me, still pushing me higher.
When I fall apart again, he comes with me, his whole body seizing up as he empties himself into me, as if he's been holding back for years. He stays inside me, chanting my name, holding me like he'll never let go.
And he doesn't. Not even when I start to cry again—the kind of tears you only cry for something you never thought you'd have again.
"I love you, princess," he says, his lips right against my ear. "I love you so fucking much. You're mine. Always."
He kisses my face, my wet cheeks, my eyelids, touching all those raw places I've always tried to hide from the world. But he sees them. He always has.
He strokes my hair, my back, my ass, slowly coaxing me back to earth. He doesn't say anything else, just breathes me in.
After a long time, he untangles himself and pulls something out of the nightstand.
He slips it onto my finger. It's only when I see the glint of a diamond that I realize what it is.
He kisses the ring, then kisses my hand.
"You're marrying me," he says, his voice a possessive growl.
I stare at the ring, at him, and then at the ring again.
"I didn't say yes," I point out, but my voice is soft, teasing.
He grins, the real smile that only ever comes out when he's naked and satisfied and has destroyed every one of my defenses. "You didn't say no."
I snort, turn in his arms, and press my face to his chest. "Fine, but you get to tell my brother."
He laughs, kissing the top of my head. "He already knows."
"You told him before you asked me?" I lift my head, incredulous.
"I knew you'd say yes."
I smack him across the chest, but he just grabs my hand and kisses it again.
"I'll never be obedient," I warn him. "Not for you, not for anyone."
His smile is everything. "I don't want your obedience.
What we had was never about that, princess.
It was about teaching you that it's okay to let go of control and just exist. You stopped doing that a long time ago," he murmurs.
"You've been stumbling through life for years, not really living it. But with me, you're alive again."
He's right, and we both know it.
I wrap my arms around him, close my eyes, and let myself just exist, here, with him.
"You're the only thing that's ever made me feel real," I admit after a moment, the truest thing I've ever said.
"You're the only thing that matters to me." He kisses me, slow and sweet, before pulling me halfway on top of him.
We fall asleep like that, entwined, with no ghosts between us and nothing left to fear.