Chapter 30 Ella #2
I pull my mouth away in a gasp as his skilled fingers deliciously prick that perfect spot over and over again.
Asher yanks down the front of my dress and strapless bra, exposing my breasts.
His mouth is on my breast a second later, sucking and teasing my nipple.
Another wave of pleasure sparks in my core.
Asher presses his thumb against my clit, then moves it in a circular motion.
Oh, god.
I grind harder and faster against Asher’s hand, reveling in the feel of his fingers. My forehead drops to his as all I can focus on is the pleasure inside me.
“That’s it, baby,” Asher purrs. “Grind that pretty cunt all over my hand.”
The warmth inside me intensifies, climbing and climbing until I explode.
“Asher!” I whisper-shout, panting and gasping through my orgasm.
Asher keeps moving, and slows with me as I ride the waves back down to earth.
When I finally finish, he slides his fingers out of me and puts them in his mouth, sucking them clean.
He makes a growling noise at the back of his throat.
“You taste even better than I remember.”
This man is filthy. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love it.
The door bursts open, and I jump. Asher grabs onto me and yanks me against him since my breasts are still out over the top of my dress. Luckily my back is to the door, but still.
“What?” he yells toward the door.
“Sorry!” I hear Robert’s voice say behind me. “I couldn’t find either of you.”
“You found us, now get out!”
The door clicks closed.
“Sorry about that. I don’t think he saw anything.”
I sit up, tuck my breasts away, and adjust my dress. The haze of lust has dissipated, and I’m suddenly too aware that I succumbed to Asher yet again.
“What are we doing? This was a mistake.” I clamber off Asher’s lap, swaying slightly on my feet. Even tipsy, I know I’ve been an idiot. I promised myself I wouldn’t do this again.
“Wait, Ella,” Asher says, grabbing my hand. He brings it to his mouth and kisses it. “Don’t run away.”
Damn him. He’s too fucking perfect when he wants to be.
“What are we doing, Asher?”
He looks up at me. “I don’t know.”
He lets go of my hand and runs his hands up my ass and to my waist. Like earlier, he leans into me and rests his forehead against my stomach.
I thread my fingers through his hair again, wanting him close, still craving him like he’s the most addictive drug.
But my mind screams at me to stop, to push him away. This is dangerous, foolish territory.
“I don’t know how to be just platonic with you,” he whispers, his voice defeated.
“I thought I did. I thought I could. My brothers howled at me when I told them we wouldn’t have sex.
They told me I was a fool to think we could live together and somehow keep our hands off each other.
I was being a stubborn bastard and insisted it was possible, even if I knew it would be difficult. ”
I tug on his head, and he looks up at me.
“But now I know it’s impossible. I can’t live with you right in front of me, embedded in my life, and not have you. You’re like a goddamn siren calling to me, and I can’t fucking stay away.”
I let out a long breath. I can tell by the fire in his eyes that he’s sobering quickly, as am I.
“So, what does this mean?” I whisper.
“It means I want . . . more.”
“How much more?”
“I’d be lying if I said I could do it all. I don’t know how to be in a real relationship.”
“But you’re already doing most of that. You just don’t realize it.”
“I can’t give you what you deserve if you want everything to be real.”
“So, then what does ‘more’ mean?”
“We don’t have to define it.”
“I think I need some sort of clarification. Would we be friends with benefits? Or rather colleagues and contract partners as a fake-but-not-so-fake couple with benefits?”
I know I’m rambling, but I’m trying to keep my heart from hoping too much.
There is a part of me, a part I’m fighting so hard, that could easily be swept up in him.
That could fall for him and not think twice about it.
That part of me wants to demand more, but I know I’m not ready.
And he’s certainly not, either. At least this takes high-class sex workers off the table.
He closes his eyes and chuckles. “We can keep it as a fake relationship with benefits. I can’t give you more than that.”
“I haven’t asked for any of this, if you’ll recall.”
“But you want it—I know you do. Just like I do. There’s too much between us. Neither of us can deny that we have a connection, that’s been pretty fucking apparent since the beginning.”
“I don’t want to get hurt.”
“It doesn’t have to hurt. We are real to the public, and we take care of each other’s needs in private. Everything else stays the same.”
“And how do we make sure it stays that way? That it’s only ‘needs’ being met. That’s a tough line to walk.”
“That’s all I can give you, and that’s all I want from you.”
His words sting. “Again, I’m not the one asking for anything. Don’t turn this like I’m begging you for a ring and kids, Asher.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“But you’re making it very damn clear that all I’m good for is a fake girlfriend and a fuck.”
“That’s not what I’m saying!”
“Yes, you are. You just said that’s all you want from me.”
A light knock on the door interrupts us. “Sir, we have to leave for the airport. And the second car is here for Ms. Hale,” Robert says through the door.
Asher stands and adjusts what’s left of his erection in his pants.
“Give us a minute,” he calls back. He looks at me and runs his hand over his face.
“You’re taking it wrong. I don’t mean that you’re not good for anything more than a fake girlfriend and a fuck.
I mean that I’m no good for a real boyfriend who can love you how you deserve. ”
“I don’t see this heading anywhere but disaster, regardless of the reasoning.”
“Ella, you’ve been right since the first night you stayed in my penthouse.
How are we supposed to live in each other’s lives and be so fucking attracted to each other at the same time?
It’s all I can do to keep my hands off you.
You consume most of my thoughts, so much so that I can’t fucking think straight.
I can’t stay away from you—and the thought of not being inside you is fucking torturing me. ”
“I don’t know . . .”
“Think about it while I’m in London. We don’t have to decide anything right now.
But remember, we have months ahead of us.
It’s been ten days, and I’m already dying.
I know you feel the same, so don’t try to deny it.
Whatever this is between us, it’s not going to let us just peacefully coexist. We’re already past that point, whether we like it or not. ”
I don’t deny it. This connection between us is like a living thing; there’s no ignoring it.
Asher steps to me, pulls me to him, and crashes his mouth against mine. Again, I can’t bring myself to fight against him. Not when his kiss, raw and aggressive as it is, feels like coming home.
His hands squeeze my ass again, but harder this time. I yelp into his mouth. One hand slips beneath my dress again and pushes past my panties, sliding through my folds, which are already growing slick again.
“This dripping pussy wants me,” he growls against my lips.
He pulls away slightly, and his other hand grips my chin.
His eyes blaze into mine. “You can try to talk your way around it, but you’re fucking lying to yourself.
And I’m done denying myself of you. This pussy is mine, and I will have it.
The when is up to you. But make no mistake, Ella, I will have you.
I plan to fucking live inside you. And I will ruin you for anyone else, I promise you that. ”
The loss of Asher’s touch is like a slap as he lets go of my chin and pulls his hand out from between my legs. He walks past me without another word and heads out of the office. I’m stunned and dumbfounded for a moment before my brain kicks in and I follow suit.
Asher reaches out and takes my hand, and we follow Robert and Jenkins through the club toward the back entrance.
As we walk, my mind is a swirling mess. I’m tipsy. Blinded by lust, and so fucking turned on that all I want to do is give in to every word, every demand, every fantasy of Asher’s. But that stupid, rational bitch inside me still warns me that taking this step with Asher is a bad idea.
Shut up, stupid rational bitch.
We exit the back of the club, but there are still paps out, and their cameras start to flash before we’re even out the doors. Two town cars are waiting, and as we step between them, Asher pulls me into his arms. He leans down to speak into my ear.
“Don’t you dare return this dress if it was borrowed. I have plans for you that involve this dress.”
Shivers race up my spine.
Asher pulls me in tighter and kisses me.
The paps go crazy, cheering and whistling, and the cameras flash faster and faster.
We keep it mostly PG, but the heat between us is still scorching.
I’m too far gone to wonder what this will look like in the press.
I don’t care right now. All I care about is getting one more moment with him before he’s gone, and all I can think about is this new, loaded proposition between us and what the fuck to do with it.
Asher breaks the kiss. “Think everything over while I’m in London. I expect your answer when I return.” He brushes his thumb over my bottom lip. “I’ll call you when I land.”
He lets go, and the distance between us is almost painful as he gets into his car and I get into mine.
As I watch the lights of New York City pass by on the drive back to Asher’s penthouse, I’m already missing and craving his touch. Already missing him. A thought hits me out of nowhere, and I realize that Asher is both right and wrong about one thing: he won’t ruin me for anyone else.
He already has.