Chapter 37 Ella #2
“I’m sure you said that to Matthew before you took that pill, and you have been anything but fine since, so excuse me if I don’t trust your judgment.”
I try to shove him out the bathroom door. “Get out, Cad and Scoundrel.”
“Strip, Damsel in Distress.”
“I’m not stripping and showering with you in here.”
“Then we’re canceling the meeting because you’re not showering alone in your condition.”
“My condition? I’m fine.”
“That’s the third time you’ve said that, and it’s the third time I don’t fully believe it. You’re definitely still corpsy.”
“Be serious, Asher. You can’t expect me to shower while you’re in here.”
“Why not? We’ve showered together before.”
“That was very different circumstances. And . . . a mistake.”
His brows lift. “A mistake?”
“I still haven’t decided what to do with your proposal.”
He steps even closer to me, towering over me, and shuts the door behind him.
“Mistake or not, proposition or not, it doesn’t change the fact that I have already seen every inch of you.
” He bends down to whisper in my ear. “And not only that, I’ve also had my hands on every inch of you.
I’ve had your perfect tits in my mouth. And I’ve had my fingers and tongue in your delicious pussy. A little shower is nothing.”
Heat floods my veins. A throb aches in my core. Damn him.
He turns around and strides to the bathroom door and locks it. Then he reaches up and yanks at his tie.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re worried about being naked in front of me, so I thought I’d even the playing field.”
He slips his tie off and starts unbuttoning his shirt. I swallow hard. He pulls the tails of his dress shirt out of his pants and yanks his shirt off. His perfect abs and chest shimmer under the bathroom lights. Fuck.
“I don’t see you undressing, Ella,” he purrs. “Or do you need me to do it for you?”
“This is . . . this is . . . completely unnecessary,” I say, far, far too breathily.
“It’s completely necessary. You’re in a compromised state. And since you need a shower, I’m here to be your shower buddy.”
“My shower buddy? Really?”
“Mm-hmm.” He prowls toward me. “Remember, Ella. For all intents and purposes, you’re mine.” He slips his hands onto my waist and grabs the bottom of my shirt, pulling it up over my head. “And I take care of what’s mine.”
He runs his hands down my arms, still staring into my eyes as he pushes his hands into my leggings and pulls them down. Then he steps back and undoes his pants, and they drop to the floor. Next go his briefs. And then he’s standing gloriously naked in front of me.
He walks past me and into the massive marble shower and turns on the faucet. Then he turns back to me.
“Do I need to help you with the rest?”
Good god, this man is going to be the death of me.
I unclasp my bra and slide it off. His hungry eyes grow dark. I hook my thumbs into my panties and slide them down my legs. He visibly swallows then holds out his hand.
I walk toward him and take it. He holds on, steadying me as I step into the shower. The marble is a bit slippery, so it’s probably not the worst idea that he’s holding my hand, but there’s no way in hell I’m telling him that.
I stand under the warm water and let out a groan of pleasure. There’s nothing like a hot shower after a long plane ride—with a side of accidental over-drugging.
“Fuck, Ella. You can’t make that sound while we’re in here naked.”
“What sound?”
“You know what sound. I’m going to need that water to be cold if you do it again.”
“Not a chance. Cold showers are an abomination.”
“Says all the women who don’t have to fight erratic erections.”
I let out a laugh. “That is a rather unfortunate side effect of manhood, isn’t it?”
“You have no idea. I think I alternated between, like, five hot and cold showers a day when I was a teenager.”
“Gross.”
“No arguments there.”
I grab a washcloth and the soap and get to washing myself. Asher’s hungry eyes begin to glaze a bit.
“Turn around. If you insist on being in here, you can at least pretend to give me an ounce of privacy.”
“I’ve never been good at pretending.”
“Turn around, Asher.”
“Fine,” he whines. “But I’d like the record to reflect that I don’t care for this turn of events.”
“I’m great with it. Now I can rub my hands all over myself while I admire your ass.”
“Now that’s a penalty. Unsportsmanlike behavior.”
He whips back around and steps under the spray, an inch from me.
“I thought we were in a courtroom. A second ago you were demanding the record reflect your delicate feelings. Now you’ve given me a sport’s penalty. You have to keep your themes straight.”
“We’re in a courtroom while playing sports.”
“Wow, we’re real multi-taskers.”
“The best.”
“So, what’s my penalty?”
“You’re in time-out. You must freeze. Which means I’ll do the hands-gliding-over-the-skin with the washing.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. Plus, your body is compromised already. You said it was heavy and tired. And now I’m feeling like I want to pretend while also being a lawyer athlete.”
“Pretend?”
“Yes. I will pretend to be a gentleman. The damsel in distress before me is too weak and tired to wash herself, therefore, the cad and scoundrel lawyer athlete now turned pretend gentleman is going to take up the laborious task of the washing for her.”
“I thought it was because I was in time-out for being unsportsmanlike.”
“That too. You’re a real hot mess today, Ms. Hale. Failing in all the ways. It’s a good thing I’m here to pretend gentleman.”
“You’re shameless.”
“Always.”
He teasingly tugs the washcloth out of my hands and drops it on the floor.
“I think this needs a hands-on approach, don’t you?” He squirts body soap into his hands and rubs them together, then places them on my ribs, and starts massaging it in, working his hands up, up, up. “Your brain is computing, yes?” he asks when his hands are at my ribcage, just below my breasts.
“Yes?”
“Is that a ‘maybe yes’ or a ‘yes, yes’? I’m playing pretend gentleman, and pretend gentleman has realized he must stop his ministrations here if damsel is in fact in distress of mind and not thinking clearly.”
“Damsel’s mind is clear. Damsel’s body feels like double its weight. But the brain fog faded with the blessing of the coffee.”
“Fuck, yes.”
Asher’s hands slide up, cupping my breasts, and squeezing them lightly. He washes them several times before declaring them clean. Then his hands slide . . . down. They curve over my ass, where they squeeze and explore, sliding luxuriously with slippery soap.
I can’t take it anymore. I slide my hands up and thread them in his wet hair, giving it a light tug.
How does this man undo me so quickly? I’m not this girl who just jumps into sexual encounters with men.
I’ve always been too reserved, too cautious, and a bit self-conscious.
How is it that he just barges past my barriers as if they don’t exist?
A second later his lips are at my throat. He places a soft kiss at the juncture of my neck and shoulder and I let out a quiet, gasping breath. His teeth graze my neck, then bite and suck and kiss as he makes his way up to nip at my earlobe.
I slide my hands down his back and over his perfect ass. He directs me under the water from the neck down, rinsing the soap off of me. Then his hand curves around to my front, slipping down my stomach and to my core. His finger brushes my clit. I jump at the sensation.
“You’re going to make me completely boneless,” I whisper. “How will I stand?”
“I’ll hold you.”
He rubs my clit, still gently, but with more pressure. My traitorous hips buck, begging for more. He slides a finger inside me and presses his palm against my clit. God. The need for friction is too much to ignore, and I shamelessly grind against his hand.
“Yes. Fuck yes, Ella.”
He slides another finger inside me, curving them, hitting that perfect spot, and I give up on all my reservations.
This damn man is too good at this. We begin to work together, him moving his fingers and palm in time with my grinding hips, and I’m soon lost in the pleasure of it.
There is nothing outside this shower. There is only him and me, and the feeling of his fingers inside me, and his other hand on my breast, as his thumb teases my nipple.
I wrap my arm around his neck to hold onto him as I reach my other hand out to grasp his bulging erection. He hisses and bucks his hips forward as I glide my hand down his shaft. I stroke him lightly at first, then tighten my grip and stroke him harder and faster.
And then we’re lost to one another. Foreheads pressed together, fractured breaths mingling, we both give and receive pleasure while nothing exists outside of us.
My pussy clenches around his fingers as he slides in a third finger and fills me to the brim.
I run the pad of my thumb over the head of his cock and then stroke him long and hard again.
I’m growing closer, and I can tell he is too.
We’re both desperate for release, both increasing speed and intensity in our ministrations, moving in tandem as if his cock was inside me and not his fingers.
“I’m almost there,” I breathe out.
“Come for me, Ella,” Asher growls.
And I do. His words tip me over the edge, and my orgasm burns through me in wave after wave of pleasure.
I stroke him two, three more times, and he comes with a shout that he cuts off by biting into my shoulder.
His cum sprays all over my chest, warm and gushing, and the baser part of my mind can’t get enough of it—of him marking me.
“Fucking hell,” Asher pants, staring down at my cum-covered tits. His eyes grow even darker, the irises blown black with fully dilated pupils. “Don’t move. Don’t you dare fucking move.”
His hands grip my hips possessively as his eyes roam over me, greedy, taking in his work.
I run my middle finger delicately down over my breast, tracing my way through his cum, rubbing it over my nipples.
“Fuck,” he growls.
“Do you like to see your cum all over me? All over my tits?” I whisper, still sliding my finger down, now near my belly button.
“God, yes.”
I rub my clit with my cum-covered finger.
Ready for round two. Asher hisses something else, but I can’t make out what he says.
He drags me to the stone bench on the other side of the shower and sits me down on it.
He turns on the shower head on this side of the shower, but the water doesn’t hit us, and he turns the handle all the way to hot so that the steam will heat the oversized shower and keep us warm.
Then he lowers himself to his knees.
“I want my mouth in that cunt,” he growls, spreading my legs wide.
And before I can say a word, he’s wrapped his arms around the backs of my thighs and spread my legs even wider.
He presses his face into my center. “I want my mouth in that cunt while my cum is dripping down your perfect tits,” he says, between sucks and licks.
I lean back against the wall, my head thrown back, my fingers laced through his wet hair as I grind into his face.
That only spurs him on more, and soon, his fingers are inside me again as he sucks and licks me.
Then his fingers are gone, and his tongue is inside me.
He alternates back and forth, bringing me to the brink twice before he changes tactics.
“Please,” I plead. “Please, Asher!”
“You want to come, Ella?”
“Yes!”
“Then you have to promise me something,” he says between breaths.
“What?”
“You’ll let me do that again.”
“We haven’t discussed . . . decided if we’re moving forward,” I say, also between breaths.
“I think that line is fucked at this point, don’t you? We’ll renegotiate.”
I don’t answer right away. I know I should say no, that I shouldn’t agree to it.
“I don’t hear promises coming from you, Ella,” Asher growls, slowing his work.
I whimper in protest.
“Promise me,” Asher demands, his voice low and hard, leaving no room to doubt his intention.
Fuck it. The Ella of tomorrow will no doubt have regrets or thoughts on the matter. But the Ella of right now wants nothing more than another fucking amazing orgasm courtesy of Asher Langford and his talented fingers and tongue.
“I promise.”
“Good girl.”
Asher doubles down, his fingers back inside me, his mouth sucking my clit. And before I know it, I’m falling over the edge again, shouting his name as I come on his tongue.
When the last waves of my orgasm fade, Asher lifts his face. I stare down at him while his head sits directly between my legs, and my fingers are still gripped in his hair. Fire burns in his eyes, which are so dilated they’re almost wholly black, and his chin and lips glisten from my arousal.
The picture of him nearly does me in.
It’s erotic and heady, and any last reserves I had disintegrate. There is no living with Asher and not succumbing to him. His pull is too strong, and I don’t want to fight it any longer.
Asher keeps his eyes locked with mine as he presses one, two, three sweet kisses to my pussy.
“We have to get you cleaned up for real now,” he says, in a low, rough voice. “But this isn’t over. It’s far from fucking over.”
I’ve never agreed so wholeheartedly.