33. Count for Me
COUNT FOR ME
Asher
After I drag a towel through my hair and halfway dry off my body, I cinch it around my waist, not caring that droplets of water slide down my chest.
Only one thing is on my mind—the gift I bought her.
I leave the steamy bathroom and return to the bedroom where the sight of Maeve steals my breath. She’s so fucking obedient. Maeve’s lying on the bed, propped up on a mountain of pillows. Waiting eagerly for instructions.
Her expressive hazel eyes flicker with obvious excitement. No, there’s downright dirty glee in them. I stride over to the foot of the bed, press my palms on the mattress, and meet her gaze. “Nothing physical, right? Those are the rules?”
Her brow knits. She’s clearly confused as she asks, “Um, yes?”
“And did you break them tonight?”
She nibbles on her lip, then asks, “No?”
I stare sternly at her. “Did you touch me?”
The hint of a smile appears. “No.”
“Did I touch you?”
“No.” She sounds both desperate and emphatic.
I let my gaze roam down her body, settling on her leggings. They’re purple. Nylon probably, and I’d be willing to bet, the material is damp between her thighs. “Open your legs.”
A gust of breath crosses her lips. She parts her legs slightly, revealing a wet spot and making me grin like a goddamn rock star.
“Like this?” she asks, playing along.
“Just like that, wife,” I say, then nod to the bedroom door. “Want to see your housewarming present now?”
“I do,” she says.
I tear myself away from the bed and pad downstairs, powered by determination and lust, and grab the bag from Risqué Business. I take the steps two at a time, returning to the bedroom in less than a minute.
When she sees the pink bag I’m holding, her eyes widen. “Asher,” she says, my name like a filthy prayer.
I cross the dark blue carpet and sit on the edge of the bed, my dick hardening again. I set the bag down and lean closer to her. “I believe you once said it takes you five supersize vibrators.”
A shudder runs down her body. Then she nods. “I said what I said.”
“And I listened. I wanted you to have everything you need to be happy. Happy wife, as they say.”
“Can I see them?” She sounds like it’s Dirty Christmas and she’s just discovered the battery-operated gifts of her dreams under the tree.
“I’ll show you,” I say, but first I take the bag to the bathroom, wash off each one, dry them, then return.
“Finally,” she says with a pout.
“It’s better this way.” I dip a hand into the bag, taking out the so-called Thruster.
It’s long and thick. “Fourteen speeds,” I say, and then grab another.
The Flutter. It’s a circle, but with an open end.
“Goes inside and outside.” I take one more from the bag.
It’s a modern take on the traditional rabbit with a shaft and vibrating ears, but with some kind of newfangled flutter technology.
“This one I’m told is like an instant orgasm. ”
“Oh god,” she gasps.
I show her the others. A Soft Touch, and a Finger Puppet. “Gotta love the name.” I furrow my brow, holding up the pink finger toy. “Shoot. This is no good,” I say, like I’ve just discovered a huge problem.
“Why?” she asks. No, she whines.
“Well, you said supersize. It’s a bullet-size. My bad,” I say, then drop it back in the bag. “It’s not used so maybe we can return it?” I ask innocently, but she flies up, grabs my wrist, and shakes her head. “I want it.”
Her voice is raw, husky.
“Well, it is your gift, I suppose,” I say, then flash her a grin. “Should I leave you here with them?”
Like hell am I leaving her alone with five toys. But I need her to want this game. To agree to these rules. I need her to want it as much as she wanted to watch me get off.
She shakes her head so fast. “No.”
I adopt a confused look. “No?”
“Asher,” she says, like a plea.
“Yes?”
She closes her eyes, then like it pains her, she takes a deep breath and opens them. “You pick.”
Music to my fucking ears.
I lean closer, sinking deeper onto the bed. “Right. Because sex complicates everything, right. Including a marriage?” I ask, smoothly, confidently, using her words on her.
“It does.”
“But orgasms don’t?”
“Orgasms are fine.”
“Fine? Just fine?” I ask, playing with my food a little longer.
She bangs a fist against the mattress. “More than fine. God, please. Use one. Fuck me with it. Just fuck me with it now. I can’t stand how turned on I am,” she says, then shoves her hands into her hair, a desperate act of a woman undone.
And I’m a man breaking. But also holding tight to a shred of control—a control I need. I rise from the bed, leave her with the bag, then lift a finger. “But no touching, right?”
“Yes. Dammit. Fine. Whatever,” she says, so frustrated, so wound up…
“Just a little horny, honey?” I ask, tilting my head.
She narrows her eyes at me. “If you’d watched me get off, you’d be horny too.”
I bend down and dip my face to hers, dusting the tip of our noses together.
“You’re right,” I say, then brush my lips dangerously near to hers.
Everything inside me screams kiss her. My body burns with the need to touch her, but I don’t.
I’m having too much fun with her desire. “I would be horny, so let me help you.”
I step away. Head to the closet. Grab some ties. When I return, I say, “Just to make sure you’re not tempted to touch me.”
She draws in a sharp breath. “You’re going to tie me up and fuck me with a toy?”
“Just following the rules.”
She smiles wickedly and moves quickly so before I can tie up her wrists, she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her leggings and skims them down, pushing down her panties too, like she’s afraid I’d leave them on.
And just like that, she’s in control. Because she’s half-naked and her perfect, pink pussy is on display for me. Wet, pretty, and glistening. I groan as I stare wantonly at her. It is going to be so fucking hard not to touch her.
But rules are rules.
And even if they weren’t, I can hear the echo of her words loud and clear—sex complicates everything.
And sex can lead to regret.
I hate regret. And I hate the thought of Maeve regretting me. I won’t fuck her till I’m sure she won’t regret it. If, and it’s a big if, we ever sleep together, I don’t want her to tell me it was a mistake, to say we shouldn’t have done it, to backpedal in the morning.
I want to fuck her, and taste her, and please her, and make her come on my face and cock and fingers with no regrets.
This, though? This game? This I’ll allow.
I straddle her, my hard cock nearly touching her soft stomach from under the towel I’m wearing. I wrap a tie around her right wrist, binding her to the bed. Then her left, doing the same with that wrist. When I tug on the material, there’s a little bit of give, but not too much.
“Safe word?” I ask.
Her lips twitch. She takes her time, then she says, “Warm nuts.”
Fuck, I think I love her. I really do. But now is not the time to get lost in those thoughts.
Or feelings that are far too fizzy for my own good.
I dip my head so she can’t see the size of my smile.
When I raise it, my smile burns off. I slide down her body, adjusting the towel I’m wearing.
Half wondering why I’m even wearing a fucking thing at all.
But maybe because she’s still in that shirt.
Settling between her thighs, I reach for a vibrator. “You said you need five, Maeve?”
“Yes,” she says, defiantly.
I start with the small one, sliding it onto my finger, then show her the vibrating pad. “Start counting,” I say.
She gasps, as I slide my finger between her spread thighs, running the pad against her swollen clit. Her gasp turns into a long whimper. Love the sound of it, but rules are rules.
“Count for me, Maeve,” I demand.
She swallows, shakes her head, murmurs, “One.”
“Good wife,” I say.
Then, she arches her back and moans so loudly, so recklessly that my dick pops out of the towel. I was hard already. Now I’m granite level since she’s lifting her hips and rocking into my finger. I fight to keep my voice even as I muse, “Is it like a tongue? I wonder?”
She cries out a breathy, “Yes.”
“Bet you’d like to be eaten, wouldn’t you?”
“So much,” she mutters.
How I fucking want to eat her. Bury my face between her thighs and feast. Instead, I turn off the Finger Puppet, then grab the Thruster. “Count again,” I tell her, holding up the long, thick toy.
She’s a mess already, hair wild, cheeks red, eyes shimmering. “Two,” she pants out.
“We have a way to go, Quick-Draw Maeve,” I say, then turn on the new device, rubbing the tip of it against that needy clit of hers.
Her wrists strain against the ties as she mutters a long, “Ohhhhhh.”
My dick thumps. My chest swells.
She arches up, stares fiercely at me. “Fuck me with it. Now.”
Tempting, but no. “So greedy,” I muse, then turn it up, sliding it through her slickness. “Like this?” It’s asked innocently.
It’s answered wantonly with a loud, “Inside me, you tease.”
“If you insist,” I say, then slide it inside her pussy, and my cells turn molten. She’s so wet, so hot that she takes it all easily.
Then, I turn it all the way up. And seconds later, she’s fucking it. Grinding down, riding it, seeking it out. And driving me wild.
“I’m close,” she pants.
I had a feeling she might be, and I could let her come. But I could also drag this out. I’m feeling like I want to edge her, so I turn it off.
She whimpers. “What did you do?”
“You said you need five,” I say, feigning innocence.
“Asher,” she warns me.
And since I really don’t want her to say warm nuts, I’m speedy as I switch to the circle vibe, sliding it into her sweet cunt, watching her take one curved end in while the other fits over her clit.
She arches her hips. Soon, she’s chanting. Begging. She’s close again. And I’m an asshole since I ease it out.
“You dick,” she mutters, thrashing around on the bed like she wants to throttle me.
“Oh, did you say dick?” I grab the rabbit-style one, brandish it.