by Sadie Moss
“Yes, please! I could use a distraction from ancient runes.”
We pop in one of Cam’s lighthearted action movies. Dmitri tends to like those super serious and dramatic films that are nominated for Oscars, and Asher has a soft spot for romantic comedies. I’m more like Cam. I don’t care if the plot is bad, just give me explosions. And maybe giant robots.
We’ve got this large, well-worn couch set up in front of the television. The cushions are so soft you sort of sink into them like a beanbag chair, and I’m not sure how it even got into this room. The guys aren’t sure either—although I suspect Cam’s lying and it’s actually his—but in any case, it’s super comfy. Asher and I flop down onto it as the movie starts, our sides pressed together pretty much from ankle to shoulder.
It’s… distracting.
More distracting than I’d planned.
I’ve known from the second I saw these guys that I was attracted to all of them. They each look like they could rock the cover of a Sports Illustrated, although for different reasons, so you really can’t blame me. But this whole time, I’ve kept my shields up. Told myself that I couldn’t be with them for all of these different reasons.
Now I’m having a harder time remembering why. Especially after how well everyone was getting along over the summer, and how all four of them have continued to stick by me despite all my prickliness and sarcasm.
I’ve started to think about them more as possible partners.
Partners in life. Partners in crime.
Partners in all the crazy bullshit the world might throw at us—the kind that makes you want to grab the best people you know and keep them close by.
And these four men are the best people I know, outside of Maddy.
I want them. So much.
I’ve already made out with Asher a few times, and I can remember each of those times as clearly as if it were yesterday. There’s something about the way he takes his time with me, how he refuses to rush and seems to read my body like an open book, that just completely unravels me.
When he and Cam took me into that empty classroom at the Inter-academy Ball… holy fuck, that was one of the hottest experiences of my life, and we didn’t even go all the way. But the way they worked together, Cam kissing me while Asher worked his tongue over my clit—Jesus, they had me dripping wet and begging for them.
My mind is drowning in memories, and they’re all so vivid they’re making my body flush. My core feels hot and swollen, and an ache is building inside me that makes me shift restlessly on the soft cushions.
Asher’s hand falls to my knee, giving a gentle squeeze.
I know him pretty well by now, so I can say with ninety percent confidence that he just means the gesture to be reassuring. But that’s sure as hell not how it feels. Heat crawls up my body, and I have to swallow hard as I try to concentrate on the movie.
The bad guy just ran into a warehouse, and the two mismatched buddy cops are debating whether they should follow or wait for backup, but right now, I just can’t bring myself to care.
Asher is so warm next to me, and I can feel the firmness of his muscles. He’s trim, but he’s a swimmer and a good fighter, and you can tell when you touch him. There’s no give anywhere. And he smells so good, like citrus and lemongrass. We’re close enough that I could easily turn my face and bury it in his shoulder.
I want to.
I want to inhale him, to imprint his scent on my soul.
My body’s been filled with tension this whole week after the attack on Tom, on top of how I was already feeling, and now my mind is screaming at me about a very good way to relieve that tension.
Asher’s hand stays on my knee, his body crammed up against mine, for the next ten minutes… and then I just can’t take it anymore.
I grab his wrist and slide his hand up from my knee to the top of my thigh.
He stiffens, then turns his head and looks at me. His expression changes immediately as he reads the look on my face.
“Elliot…” His voice is rough, and his gaze flicks down my body. He looks like he’s starving for me.
Good. I’m starving too. I’m dying for this.
So I take it one step further and move his hand right between my legs. His breath hitches, and his fingers shift, one dragging along the seam of my jeans, pressing down on my clit through the denim, rubbing in small, concentric circles. I whimper, shivering as heat pulses through me.
Then I push up and swing my leg over so I’m straddling Asher’s lap, taking his face in my hands and kissing him deep and slow.
“Asher… please, fuck me,” I whisper.
Chapter 9
Okay, so maybe it’s not the most demure, ladylike way to ask for what I want, but that is what I want.
And for as deliberate and careful as Asher can be, as gentle as he can be, I want to see him—feel him—lose control.
I want to be the reason he loses it.
He’s staring at me, our faces so close together that his forest-green eyes have to dart back and forth to focus on mine, and we’re cupping each other’s faces like we’re each holding a precious object.
God, he’s so damn beautiful.
And he’s not the kind of guy who would be threatened by me calling him that either. He’s secure enough in his masculinity to just take the compliment, probably give me one back, and go about his day.
His features are perfectly balanced, elegant and aristocratic, and his hair is the most gorgeous shade of rich, chestnut brown. His lips are full and eminently kissable. But what’s making me want to devour him right now isn’t his lips, but the way he’s staring at me.
He looks… overwhelmed. Grateful.
And so fucking hungry.
“Are you sure, Elle?” he whispers, moving his head forward just slightly so our noses brush together. “God, I’ve wanted you for so long. But I can wait. If you need more time…”
I don’t.
I appreciate every bit of time he’s given me, the fact that he and the others have waited while I figured my shit out and worked my way through some of my stupid fears and doubts.
And I may not have all my shit figured out yet, but I am one hundred percent certain about what I want right now. I want Asher’s lips on mine. His body surrounding mine, inside mine.
Even though I know it’ll change everything.
He’s not the kind of guy who could do something like this and not have it mean something big. But what I’m ready to give him is big.
It’s way bigger than my body, way bigger than just sex, and it’s filling this room with something so achingly sweet I can’t even stand it.
So I whisper, “I’m sure,” because I know he needs to hear the words, at the same time I grind down against him, working my clit against the swelling bulge beneath me.
We both gasp and groan at the same time, and the sound gets muffled as our lips finally meet in another kiss.
He shudders, his hands leaving my face to move over my body, trailing up and down my back before sliding beneath my shirt. His fingertips on my bare skin send little trails of fire racing through me, and I stroke my tongue harder against his. Oh, yes, please.
I’m still holding onto his face, and even though I want to touch his body everywhere, to slip my fingers under his clothes and explore every ridge of hard muscle hidden beneath, I can’t seem to let go. It’s like I need an anchor, need to keep my hold on the strong line of his jaw as he kisses me or I’ll be swept away.
He kisses like he always does, in a way that’s thorough, consuming, and unhurried—as if he’s got all the time in the world.
Well, he might, but I don’t.
My breaths are coming faster and faster, and every time I rock against him, my clit throbs harder.
Shit, I’m about to come from dry humping, like a horny teenager in the back of a Toyota.
Jesus. How does he do this to me?
I attack his mouth even harder, kissing him with more desperation, as if that’ll hold off the impe
nding orgasm. But then his hands settle on the curve of my ass and he hitches me against him harder, pressing me closer as his hips buck up toward mine, and it’s all over.
My body convulses, my thighs squeezing tight around his hips as my release floods through me. I tear my lips from his, moaning his name as I bury my face in the crook of his shoulder, tasting his skin and inhaling his clean, warm scent. His arms are still wrapped around me, and he presses kisses to my hair as his chest rises and falls beneath mine.
I have a vague feeling that maybe I should be a little embarrassed I came so quickly, so easily. But I’m not.
Partly because it’s Asher, and I trust him, and partly because I know we’re not done yet.
Not by a long shot.
When my breathing is a little more under control, I lift my head from his shoulder, biting my lip as I gaze down at him. “Thanks, sailor. I think I needed that.”
He grins at me, soft and sweet and hot. Then he slides his hands under my thighs and lifts me with him as he stands. I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck as he carries me over to his bed.
My back hits the mattress softly, and I scoot backward, propping myself up on my elbows to watch him strip his shirt off. I’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times before—kind of hard not to when you share a room with someone—but let me tell you, context is everything. The hard planes of his stomach, the curve of his shoulders, the sexy V at his waist? They’re all on display, and it feels like I’m taking them in for the first time.
I stare unabashedly at him, licking my lips like a hungry cartoon character. My eyes are probably bugging out of my head a little too, and he chuckles softly as he shucks his pants and crawls up onto the bed with me. He left his boxer briefs on; I can see the bulge of his cock straining at the fabric. I remember what it felt like in my mouth, what it tasted like, and my clit throbs hard, needing more attention already.
As he crawls up my body, I start to sit up to reach for him, but he puts a gentle hand on my sternum and presses me back down. “Let me, Elle. Let me take care of you, okay?”
Oh geez. He’s got this soft but commanding thing going on that makes me want to do anything he says.
So even though it kind of kills me, I let my body relax back onto the comforter, gazing up at him and waiting. For a second, he just looks at me, like he’s trying to take a picture with his brain, to imprint this moment in his memory so completely that he’ll never forget it.
The intense focus makes me squirm.
Normally, I’m not great with this kind of vulnerability, but this feels… good. It’s like how a little bite of the right kind of pain only enhances pleasure; his gaze is lighting a fire inside me, making me burn for him.
I keep waiting for him to take pity on me and move this along a little faster, but of course, he doesn’t. Instead, he undresses me with deliberate movements, his green eyes growing darker with each layer of clothing he removes. And every inch of skin he uncovers is a new playground for him to explore, a new part of me for him to worship. His hands and mouth and teeth work their way over my body, and I try to stay still, I really do—but by the time he hooks his fingers around the sides of my panties and draws them down my legs, I’m shaking from head to toe.
My earlier orgasm is forgotten, and my clit is trying very hard to convince me it might die if it doesn’t feel his mouth soon.
I hear you, girl. I fucking hear you.
“Asher! Goddamn it,” I rasp out as he traces a line with his tongue from my belly button to my pubic bone. “I always thought Dmitri was the dick. But I was wrong. It’s you.”
I can’t see it, but I feel his smile against my skin.
Oh, he really is an asshole.
But before I can sit up and demand he put me out of my misery or flip our positions and see how he likes getting worked over till he’s a quivering mess like this, his hot mouth settles over my clit, and his tongue lashes back and forth in broad, quick strokes.
Oh, did I say asshole? Forget that. He’s a fucking saint. A god.
My hands fly to his head, clenching his hair not-at-all gently as the tension he’s been slowly building within me breaks, and I fly apart for the second time tonight.
His tongue dips lower, thrusting into me as aftershocks ripple through my body, and I know he can feel my pussy clenching around him. He works me through the very end of my orgasm, drawing it out and making it feel like it goes on forever. Then he pulls away, pressing soft kisses to the insides of my thighs, which send small jolts of energy through me.
My heart is pounding hard in my chest, and I think I’ve got a little sheen of sweat going, which is sort of ridiculous considering all I’ve been doing is trying to lie still.
Asher lifts his head to meet my gaze, and I purse my lips at him, trying not to grin. “Okay, maybe you’re not so bad.”
He laughs then crawls up my body until he’s hovering over me, just a few inches of space between us. I can feel the hardness of his cock against my lower belly, feel the little damp spot where precum has soaked through his boxer briefs.
I guess if he’s been torturing anyone here, it’s mostly been himself. I’ve already come twice, and I can tell he’s as worked up as I am.
“Sorry, Elle. I won’t always drag it out like this.” He dips his head to kiss me, and keeps kissing me as he speaks, the words falling out in between pecks to my cheeks, my jawline, my neck, the shell of my ear. “But I’ve… imagined this… more times than will make me sound cool to admit.” He draws back slightly to look at me. “We’ll only get this first time once. I want to make it special.”
My eyes burn a little, and I blink quickly because oh my God, I am not going to cry during sex, but I reach up to run my fingers along the straight line of his jaw.
“It already is special, Ash. It’s you.”
Fire sparks in his hypnotic green eyes, and when he kisses me again, there’s an urgency, an uncontrolled edge to it that makes my toes curl and my stomach flip with excitement.
Oh, goody. I think I said the magic words.
The only damn thing still separating us is his boxer briefs, and when I reach down to get the stupid things out of the way, he helps me. Together, we work them down his legs until he kicks them off, and then he leans over me slightly, reaching for a drawer in the dresser by his bed.
I hear the crinkle of the condom wrapper, but that’s the last thought I give it because suddenly he’s kissing me again, and I’m kissing him back, our mouths fused together like we need this connection to survive. He pulls his hips away for a second to roll the condom on, but his lips never leave mine, and when I feel the head of his cock nudge my entrance, I hook my legs around his waist, determined not to let him slow down this roller coaster we’re on.
But Asher really must be able to read my mind, cuff or no cuff, because he knows exactly what I need.
He surges forward, burying himself inside me to the hilt, and when I gasp into his mouth at the sudden exquisite intrusion, he pulls back and thrusts in again.
Oh fuck, yes. Yes.
My body is spiraling upward again, the first two orgasms just an appetizer for the main course, and Asher’s making these low, deep noises in the back of his throat that hit my ears and land somewhere near my heart.
I cling to him as he drives into me over and over, running my hands over his broad, lean back, digging my fingernails into his skin.
“Asher. Oh fuck!”
His strokes get harder and deeper, the tempo less even, and I feel him thicken and swell inside me. My hips crash into his, meeting him thrust for thrust, and when he bottoms out inside me and grinds his hips hard against mine, the pressure on my clit makes fireworks explode inside me. My pussy clamps down hard around him as he comes too, both of us panting and shaking and clinging to each other.
We come down slowly, wrapped up in each other’s arms like that. His body is draped over mine, but the weight is pleasant, grounding, and his breath tickles the hair near my ear.
“Okay, I definitely needed that,” I murmur.
“I think we both did.”
He holds me close, gently untangling my hair, threading his fingers through it. I feel like a sleek, satisfied cat, practically purring. Holy shit, that was fucking amazing. Better than I imagined—and I think I could give Asher a run for his money in how often I’ve fantasized about the two of us together. Good thing we’re in a corner dorm room so I didn’t have to worry about making noise, although if one of the guys had walked in—
That thought stops me short.
Oh my God.
What if Dmitri or Cam or both had walked in on us?
Something of my thoughts must show on my face, because Asher gives me a fond smile. “What is it, Elle?”
I shrug. “I was just thinking—what if the other two had walked in? I mean, this is their room too. That would’ve given them a hell of a shock, right?”
Asher looks thoughtful for a moment, his free hand sliding down to lightly stroke my thigh. I shiver. Then he smiles and shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eye.
That’s when I remember being with him and Cam in the classroom again—it was the two of them, kissing and touching me at the same time, and I was between them, pinned, two mouths and hands and—
What if the guys had walked in? What if they’d done it while Asher was inside me? I get the image of Dmitri holding down my hands, pinning me, whispering dirty things in my ear as Cam kisses me, puts his mouth on my breasts, and Asher’s still inside me, fucking me…
Holy motherfucking dirty saints and angels.
It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever imagined, and I can’t help but roll my hips, grinding against Asher’s leg a little, as a thousand other ideas fill me.
