“I don’t know.” Her brows raise and I cringe. “I’ll explain.”
“I’m listening.”
And so I begin telling her the rest of my story.
When Asher and I get back to the room after our boating excursion, I suggest that Asher jump in the shower first and tonight, I’ll order us dinner. With a smile, he agrees and saunters off to the bathroom losing his clothes along the way. I raise an eyebrow pretending it doesn’t affect me as much as it does, and he laughs. Moving to the phone, I grab the various menus of all the restaurants on both resort properties to make my decision. I want to take care of Asher tonight. He’s been surprising me every day so far and it’s a small thing I know, and doesn’t come close to what he’s done for me, but I want to take control for the evening.
I’m glad to see that while Mexican food is definitely a consistent theme, there are many other cuisines to choose from. I consider Japanese for a moment, but then decide pasta is a safer choice. I select baked ziti, and a garden salad, dressing on the side knowing it’s likely to be good – who can mess up pasta sauce. I forego the garlic bread, despite that it is likely to be tasty and elect Italian bread instead. For obvious reasons. I grin as I add strawberries, whipped cream and champagne to the order.
I’ve barely hung up the phone and I hear Asher shut the shower water off. Moments later, he emerges wearing nothing but a towel. Sporting a mischievous grin, he walks toward me and my mouth waters watching his muscles shift with each step. Random drops of water trail down his body and I lick my lips. Immediately a scene from one of his movies flashes through my mind, and I remember women in the theatre sighing at the sight. I wonder if I should tell them that the real thing doesn’t even do the image on the screen justice.
With every step Asher takes toward me, I take one back. His grin turns downright wicked when my back meets resistance from the wall. Placing a hand on either side of my head, boxing me in, he moves close to me. Oh god, he smells mouth watering.
“Princess?”
“Hmm?” I ask my gaze moving to and settling on his lips.
“The shower is available for you now.”
“Yeah…ummm…” I giggle. God, I giggle! I sound ridiculous but somehow I can’t shut it off. “I kind of got that given the fact you’re standing in front of me.” I giggle again. Oh, god, I’m eighteen again. I should just start popping gum and twirling my hair too.
His mouth moves infinitesimally closer to mine making me unable to focus on anything other than what that mouth can do to me. How it can make me feel. How it can make me moan and shudder. His mouth is on mine and he’s kissing me thoroughly, as if he wants to make his thoughts and intentions for the night clear. I’m right there with him, every movement of our lips against one another, every slide of our tongues, every taste, every whimper. His fingers trail down my arms and then wrap around my waist, mine wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to me, kissing him harder. He presses his body against mine and I can feel every inch and curve intimately. When he pulls away, his stare is so intense; I swear he can see into my mind, my heart and my soul. I’m breathless, my chest heaving with need, want and desire. He matches me breath for breath. He moves toward me again and I know if I let him take my lips once more, I’ll be a goner. Ducking under his arm, he yells a surprised, “Hey! I wasn’t done yet.”
Quickly grabbing my clothes, I make a dash for the bathroom, but look over my shoulder at him and laugh at the look of astonishment on his face. Laughing was a mistake. In retaliation, as I reach the bathroom entrance, he drops his towel from around his waist. Gasping, I almost smack right into the wall instead of going through the door. He winks at me seductively and starts walking to me again, but somehow I manage to come to my senses and dart through the door and shut it quickly. I must be absolutely crazy.
Leaning my back against the door, and squeezing my eyes closed, I try to catch my breath. Holy hell is that one fine specimen of a man. I don’t know how I got so lucky to get his attention, but hell the man is the complete package. Jumping in the shower, I wonder if a cold shower does the same thing for women as it does for men. I elect to try. Quickly washing, I tell myself to remember that I have a plan. Shower, eat and then operation seduce Asher. Not that it’s going to be a very hard thing to do. We are both beyond ready, but the anticipation is making the blood in my veins even fierier with need.
Finishing, my deduction is that the cool water did nothing to simmer the passion running in my veins, but that’s okay. Drying my hair and applying a touch of makeup, I turn to the clothes I’ve elected to wear.
A knock comes at the door startling me, “Princess? Dinner’s here.”
“Okay. Go ahead and sit at the table, I’m coming!”
“No, sadly, you aren’t. Not yet anyway.”
Stifling a laugh, I call, “Be there in a minute.”
Hurrying, I dress in the most seductive thing I brought on vacation, quite by accident. A lace tank top, with matching lace boy shorts that have a cute ruffle on the butt. I usually wear them under my jean shorts with a top so you can’t make out the ruffle through my clothes. They’re surprisingly comfortable and I always feel kind of naughty in them. Like I have a sexy secret. Alone, they are definitely sexy. They’re a pale pink color that leaves nothing to the imagination. I’m saying a prayer of thanks that I impulsively left them in my bag when I took other lingerie items out.
Turning back to the mirror, I give myself a once over, fluff my hair, spritz on some body spray, do a quick turn checking out my ass and give myself a nod of approval. With a deep breath, I open the door and peek out into the bedroom. Asher is nowhere to be found, so I surmise he’s sitting at the table like I asked.
One barefooted step at a time, I make my way to the dining area, and when I reach the entryway, I lean against it waiting for him to notice me. He doesn’t at first; he’s busy arranging our table and the food. I grin when I see he’s had a similar idea to mine; he’s wearing nothing but black boxer briefs. I admire his strong broad back and suppress a shudder when I imagine scratching my nails down it. I’m glad that’s all he’s wearing- less to rip off that way.
When he sits in his chair, he picks up his silverware that’s rolled into his napkin and happens to glance at the doorway. When his eyes meet mine, he freezes, and his silverware clatters to his plate. His eyes rake my body, stopping momentarily at the junction of my thighs, and again when he reaches my breasts. When his heated gaze returns to mine, he licks his lips and I barely keep myself from running right into his arms.
Slowly, purposefully, taking one step at a time, I ease myself into my chair. Usually he pulls my seat out for me, so I know I’ve really rattled him. It makes me bite my bottom lip so I don’t smile. “Does it look good?”
“What?” His voice is husky with lust and he swallows hard, his eyes appearing slightly unfocused.
“The food. Does it look good?”
“God, it looks so fucking good,” he says eyes still on me and I know he’s not talking about the food at all.
Forcing myself to lift the metal dome off of my plate, I glance at the pasta dish sitting there. “It does look good.” I grab my own silverware and unroll it. Taking a small forkful of my ziti, I place it in my mouth and groan with pleasure at the taste. It’s for show of course, but it actually does taste quite delicious. Flitting my eyes up to his, I swallow my bite. I moan just a bit for emphasis. “Oh god, it’s so good. Aren’t you going to eat it?”
He chokes, and it takes effort not to laugh. “Excuse me?”
“The pasta,” I clarify, “are you going to eat it?” His eyes are still on my lips and I swear he’s practically sweating; his brow is glistening just a little.
Reaching across the table, he whispers, “Come here.” I lean toward him and watch wide-eyed as his thumb grazes the corner of my mouth and then he brings it to his own, tongue flicking out to lick the sauce from it. “You’re right. It’s delicious.”
Sweet baby cupid in a diaper, I’ve
been struck stupid by this man.
Finally, he lifts the dome from his own plate and mechanically begins eating his food. His eyes volley between his plate and my face the whole time. I make a show of eating my food. Licking when necessary, moaning occasionally, chewing slowly, all the while trying to make idle conversation about our excursion and the fish we saw today, about how fun the boat ride was and how beautiful Cabo is in general. If the constant shifting in his seat is any indication, Asher’s not really interested in the conversation at all. Sure he’s responding but it’s all robotic, his eyes watching every move I make. I don’t think he’s going to tolerate much more.
When a drop of sauce falls from my fork onto the inside of my other thumb, I lick it off without thought. I’m startled when Asher suddenly stands. “What’s wrong?”
His chest is heaving, his eyes on mine. Before I can utter another word, his hand swipes the table and each and every item crashes to the floor. My mouth falls open; my fork falls to the ground. Before I can even think about uttering one word, he’s around the table and is pulling me out of my chair. Yanking me against his body, he kisses me hard, long, and with so much passion, it’s hard to breathe.
Pulling his lips from mine, he lifts me up and sets me right onto the freaking table. “Sorry, princess, but this isn’t going to be slow. I can’t wait. I need you now.”
A sharp exhale of need escapes me, “God, yes,” I agree without any hesitation. I’m on board for this plan. Completely.
He pulls his briefs down his legs quickly and a condom appears from god knows where. He rips it open with his teeth before putting it in place. Not taking time to remove my clothes, he pushes my tank up over my breasts and simply yanks my panties to the side. Touching me intimately, he hisses out a breath when he feels that I’m more than ready for him. Dinner was certainly foreplay, he’s ready and I’m more than willing. Placing himself at my entrance, we become one with a quick deep thrust, both of us exhaling with a sense of relief at finally being joined.
Every push and withdraw is the most intimate communication and expression of feelings. With each push I feel his desire, with each withdrawal I feel his need for more. There’s sweat on his upper lip, fire in his eyes, and the devil in his movements because they’re insanely wicked. His hands are all over my body - touching, stroking, massaging, igniting.
“So good,” I tell him. Grinding my hips into his, I desperately seek release and encourage him to keep going, desperate for him to never stop.
“I won’t,” he says and I realize I must have told him not to stop out loud. Reveling in the feeling of him inside of me, together as one, I marvel at how right it feels, how complete I am.
He pulls me to the edge of the table, his hands find the tops of my shoulders and he hangs on as his tempo increases. One of his hands travels down my body and begins slow, steady circles exactly where I need him most. His eyes are desperate for me to feel what he’s feeling, to find completion with and because of him. Lifting up on my elbows, I gaze at the sight of our lovemaking, the sight of our joining pushing me right off the edge of the cliff I was barely balancing on. Asher immediately follows, then his body collapses onto mine. Wrapping my arms around him, I can’t stop running my hands over his back extending his pleasure in any and every way.
Eventually, he pulls from me and I exhale at the loss. He helps me off the table, and excuses himself to the restroom. I pull my clothes into place and start cleaning up the mess on the floor.
When Asher returns he immediately joins me, and when I look at him, I see color has flooded his cheeks. “Um, sorry about this,” he apologizes.
“Really? You’re sorry? Because I’m not, and you certainly didn’t seem sorry a few minutes ago.”
He grins widely, drops the plate from his hand and cups my face. “You’re right. I’m not sorry,” he leans forward and presses his lips to mine before pulling back. “I’m not sorry at all. But, I suppose I could have shown a bit more patience.”
I shrug, “I thought it was hot,” I confess. “Besides, I pushed you too far and on purpose.”
“You are a cruel, cruel woman.”
I roll my eyes, “Oh please.”
“Evil,” he adds.
“You wound me.”
“Horrible.”
“You loved it.”
He smiles again, “You’re right. I did.”
With laughter, we each clean up the mess and then I grab the dessert tray that was thankfully still sitting on the cart, completely intact.
“Interested in some dessert?”
His eyebrows lift and he licks his lips. “Princess, what do you think that just was?” he waves his hand over the table.
Showing him the strawberries and cream under the tray, I suggest, “Okay, well how about dessert part two?”
“I like this plan, but how about we take part two into the bedroom?”
“I too like this plan.” With a wink, I turn and saunter into the room knowing I’m giving him a perfect view of my pert ruffled bottom. When I hear a groan behind me, I smile to myself. He follows behind with two glasses and the bottle of champagne, otherwise I have a feeling his hands would be roaming. Pouring each of us a glass, he hands me mine. “A toast,” he says, “To whatever the hell those underwear are doing to your ass and sex on tables.”
I laugh out loud and clink my glass with his, “I’ll drink to that. Cheers!”
We each sit in the middle of the bed, the tray of strawberries between us. Asher grabs a berry and dips it in whipped cream. I expect him to take a bite, but instead he holds it up to my mouth with a lift of his brows. Opening my mouth, I take a bite and moan in pleasure as the flavor bursts on my tongue. Chasing it with champagne, I murmur, “Delicious.”
Asher smiles and leans forward; the tip of his tongue darts out and touches the top of my lip. “You seem to have a little trouble leaving remnants of food behind.”
“Thank goodness I have you to take care of it for me.”
“Yes, thank goodness,” he murmurs huskily.
This time, I take a strawberry and dip it and then hold it to his mouth. Before I place it to his lips, I purposefully drag it over his lip, leaving whipped cream behind. He takes a generous bite, and I smile. “Oh no. You have a little bit on your mouth now.” Before he can say a word, I happily clean off his mouth with a lick of my own.
With a devilish grin, he dips his finger into the whipped cream, foregoing the strawberry this time, and swipes it across my mouth. “Oh no, not again!” He kisses me, making me moan deeply. I want him again – I can’t imagine ever not wanting him. I feel sadness briefly knowing the time I have of his being mine is short, too short. Surprised by my thoughts and not wanting to deal with the feelings they evoke, I push them away.
When he pulls away, I down my champagne in three gulps, seeing Asher do the same. Taking our glasses he sets them on the bedside table, and removes the strawberries as well. When he comes back on the bed, this time, it’s me that pounces.
Pushing him onto his back, I trail a finger back and forth over the waistband of his briefs while he watches me. Tucking my fingers under the band, I slide them down his legs then throw them over my shoulder making him laugh. Stretching my body out on top of his, I revel in the erotic feel of him being naked, while I’m still clothed in lace.
With a happy sigh, I place a kiss to his lips and pull away, feeling eager to explore every glorious inch of him. Placing a kiss to his jaw, loving the feel of his stubble I drag my lips across his jaw nibbling and kissing along the way. When I place a kiss behind his ear, he sucks in a breath and groans, making me smile that I found a sensitive spot. Storing that information away for later, I keep moving, down his chest. I swirl my tongue around his nipples and enjoy each time his breath hitches in pleasure.
Moving my way south I nuzzle the trail of hair that runs to his groin, kiss his navel, playfully bite his abs, and suck on one of his hipbones making him groan. Then when I take him in my hand and lower my mouth to
him, I revel in the sounds he makes as I try to show him how good he makes me feel. I want to make him feel the way I do when he pleasures me.
Before I can bring him to completion he yanks me up his body and flips us over in one swift move. He removes my clothes and this time, our movements are slower. He not only pleasures me with his body, but with his words too. He whispers my name. Tells me how good he feels. Asks if I feel the same. He brings me to the edge of desire and just when I think I’m going to lose myself to the fall, he stops then starts all over again.
We worship each other, kissing and touching each part of our bodies. This time when we become one, no words are exchanged between us. We let our bodies, eyes and our sighs do all the talking for us.
Never has sex been this intimate for me. It’s always felt like a duty, something I knew I had to do to make my partner satisfied, but always somehow leaving me unfulfilled. As we find completion now, then again hours later as we turn to each other in the night, I feel an ache in my heart. Instinctively I know that this feeling, whatever it is, it will change me forever.
“I guess we can do that,” Asher says into the phone pressed against his ear. He looks at me and rolls his eyes and I know whatever he’s agreeing to isn’t something he really wants to do. “Yeah, I know she will because she’s brought it up a couple times. It’s me that hasn’t been interested.” He sighs now, “Alright, fine, enough. I’ll go, I mean we’ll go. Just text me when and where after you guys figure it out, okay? No, it doesn’t matter to me, we’ll just meet you there. Okay, bye.”
When he hangs up, he throws his phone onto a chair. Before he can move a muscle it starts ringing again. With a frown he picks it back up, glances at the screen, then I assume he must press ignore because he throws it back down again and the ringer stops as he dives into bed. He rubs his temples and I brush his hands away and begin rubbing them for him. “Headache?” I ask.
“A small one,” he says and releases a deep breath as he enjoys my mini massage. We’ve stayed in bed all day long, only coming up for air when we’ve wanted sustenance. Then, we just ordered room service and went back to bed again. I should probably feel guilty for being so lazy, but I’m not. It’s been a great day. And I’m not sure all of our time in bed could be classified as lazy.
Charming: A Modern Day Sexy Cinderella Story Page 16
