by Kreig, K. L.
Asher: i’m going to fuck that sass right out of u later
I type a quick reply.
Me: promises promises
I lift my eyes, trying to pay attention to my sister. “And you know that how?”
“Because you’re all flush and giddy.” Damn. I look away, embarrassed, but my head snaps back up when she adds, “And I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you so happy.”
She’s wrong. I was very happy once upon a time. I feel another buzz, but decide to give my attention to Livia.
“Spending a lot of time with him this week?”
“A little. We’ve both been busy.”
“Are you?” she asks.
“Am I what?”
“Happy?”
I take my time answering, because I’m afraid to jinx things.
Yes, I’m insanely happy. Happier than I’ve been in a very long time, but I don’t have any idea where this is going. We’re clearly in lust, but is there more? Can there be more? Asher wants me to submit to him in every way, and Monday night felt more like lovemaking than a good fucking, and that both thrills and scares me.
But my fucked-up mind still waffles dozens of times a day. So much so, I’m giving myself motion sickness. One minute I think I can go all in, leaving the past behind, the next I’m sure this is probably the biggest mistake I’ve ever made, because against my better judgment, I’m invested emotionally already. I haven’t been emotionally invested in a man since Beck.
“Yes,” I finally answer. “But I just don’t know where it’s headed.”
“Where do you want it to go?”
“I—” I want to lie and say I don’t know, but that’s not true. I do know. I am already half in love with Asher. He’s had a part of me since I was seventeen years old. But the other half is mired deep in the past. “I really like him,” I settle for. It feels too early to think about long-term, even though I can’t stop my foolish female mind from going there.
“But…”
“But, I don’t know, Libs. We’re insanely attracted to each other, but I just, I don’t know what he wants beyond sex.” And I’m reluctant to put myself out there completely until I do. Asher’s a player. I’ve known that since the moment I met him eight years ago. So what if he’s just playing me now? His words, and even his actions say otherwise, but I don’t know. My life, my business…they are all in Detroit. Not Chicago. This is only temporary.
Why does that thought make me so sad?
She studies me for a few moments. “You know, I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but Gray talked to Asher the night before Thanksgiving about you.”
That perks me up. That was the night we had our “date” slash fake business meeting. “He did?”
“Yeah. Asher hasn’t been serious about a woman in a very long time, and Gray knew back at that family dinner a couple months ago that he took an interest in you. He’s been trying to warn him off ever since, because he was worried about him hurting you.”
Interesting.
Livia continues. “And Asher asked if Gray cared about him getting hurt.” She reaches across the table, taking my hand; sincerity oozes from her. “He likes you, Alyse. A lot, from what I can tell. A woman in his past hurt him badly, but Gray doesn’t talk about it and Asher and I aren’t exactly buddy-buddy, so I don’t know the specifics, but Gray says he hasn’t taken an interest in a single woman since then. Until you.”
My body tingles at her revelation and all those stupid elementary school girl fantasies about Barbie and Ken living happily ever after in their Barbie Dreamhouse try to take hold.
Then a sudden, sick feeling hits me in the pit of my stomach, making me break out into a sweat. “Does Asher know about…you know?”
After Beck’s death, I couldn’t date again until I was a sophomore in college. Nearly two years. His name was Jedd. Even though he was the polar opposite of Beck, I really liked him. Unfortunately I made the relationship-ending mistake of telling him about my little thirty-day vaca in the psych ward because I foolishly wanted to be honest. Once he found out, he didn’t return my calls for a week, and when he broke it off, his bullshit excuse was “It’s not you, it’s me.” Riiiight. So if Asher already knows…
“No, Alyse. He doesn’t know. Gray swore he wouldn’t tell another soul and he never has.”
My relief is palpable. I’m not ready for Asher to know. In fact, I’m not sure I ever will be ready.
I think about how Asher’s worried I may hurt him. He’s not wrong with his concern. “With my track record, Livia, I think maybe I’ll end up being the one to hurt him.”
“I don’t know, Alyse. I see the way your eyes light up when he’s in the room or when he touches you or even when his name is mentioned. I know I missed a lot these past few years…” The last several words are choked. I sense a sadness in Livia I haven’t seen before and I wonder why I haven’t noticed.
Maybe because you’ve been steeped in resentment, you selfish B.
“…but I’ve never seen you look at someone like you do Asher.”
Guilt stabs me, because I have felt this way before. With Beck. I genuinely loved him. I’m hiding so many secrets from Livia. What would be gained by telling her?
Peace? Maybe.
Freedom from the past? I don’t know.
“I’m scared, Libs. I’m scared I’ll get hurt.”
“So is he,” she replies, smiling gently. “No risk, no reward. Right?”
“Right,” I mumble, not at all convinced. No risk, no rejection has always been my pathetic mantra instead.
How do you persuade your mind to free your heart so it can soar high and free, grabbing that happiness that evades you? I wish I knew the answer. I could bottle it and sell it and become a billionaire.
I chance a look down at the texts that have been sublimely whispering my name and smile. No matter the unwelcome ping-pong game my emotions seem to be playing, there is no denying how I feel about this man. God, I like him. So very much. But liking him isn’t the real issue. Letting him in is.
Asher: do not touch urself
Asher: ur ass will b a pretty shade of red if u disobey me
Asher: alyse, answer me. now
There’s no way I can leave Asher’s bossiness unchecked. Somehow I think he’d tire quickly if he had a meek woman he thought he could push around.
Me: too late. moan…god that feels sooooo good
Setting the phone back down, I try to turn my attention back to my plate, but suddenly my physical appetite is gone, replaced instead by a sexual one so intense that I’m definitely going to be taking the edge off later. Maybe even now. In Livia’s bathroom. My phone buzzes again and my breath hitches. I can practically hear the growl in his written words.
Asher: ur orgasms belong to me, beautiful
Me: why r u so damn bossy
Asher: cuz it makes u so wet
Damn. Yes it does. Just as I’m about to reply with something snarky, I hear the door open. Male laughter carries into the kitchen where Livia and I sit.
Seconds later, Gray and Asher walk in. The minute they spot us, their laughter stops, replaced by looks that can be mistaken for nothing but hunger. And not for cooked dough topped with hot cheese and pepperoni.
Holy shit, they both look like male gods dropped down from heaven above dressed in their fitted suits. Asher’s is charcoal grey with a deep purple shirt underneath, the top two buttons undone. He looks so fucking sexy, my mouth actually hurts with the need to taste him.
I’m instantly wet. Well…wetter.
Gray hastily makes his way to Livia, tugging her to him for a hard kiss. When he whispers something in Livia’s ear, her face turns red.
Strong arms band around me from behind. Asher’s desire presses hard against my lower back. A rough, raspy voice rumbles in my ear, “Are you ready, baby?”
“For what?” I mumble, just as low.
“Promises.”
How does he always know the right thing to say?
&n
bsp; Chapter 17
Asher
The second we walk over the threshold of my apartment, I have Alyse pinned up against the wall, my mouth on hers, my hands frantically searching to find naked skin. I kick the door shut on a slam, not quite ready to share her with the rest of the world yet. I have that planned for later.
Four fucking days since I’ve been inside of my woman is too goddamn long and that’s not going to happen again. I’ve thought of nothing else all week. I almost ditched dinner tonight to be with Alyse, but I couldn’t. We’re in the final stages of a major acquisition under GRASCO Holdings that we need financial backing for. Although I should have pulled a Gray and brought Alyse with me. Only she had other plans.
“I need to fuck you, baby. Hard. Now.” My teeth nip the delicate flesh along her neck. My tongue laves the tiny hurts I’m leaving behind. Her choppy gasps and breathy moans ignite a raging inferno inside my groin that can only be put out by the silky wetness I know is waiting for me between her toned thighs.
Quickly I pull the baby blue sweater over her head, dropping it on the cold tile beside me. Her jeans and panties are gone in a flash and she’s managed to push off my suit jacket, but I can’t wait a second longer.
I yank down the cups that are keeping her pert nipples from my view so I can watch them bounce up and down while I fuck her, and as I pull one into my mouth, I reach between us to free my straining cock. Then I’m pushing inside her in one hard stab. She’s wet, but not enough, because I was too impatient to prepare her properly. It takes two more thrusts before I hit the end of her womb, going as deep as her body will allow.
My eyes roll back at the feel of her bare skin on mine.
Fucking. Nirvana.
“Alyse, baby. So tight. Fuck, your pussy’s scorching me, it’s so hot.”
I have jacked off to thoughts of her every single night this week, fantasizing about being inside her raw, but it’s like I haven’t come in days, because within seconds of immersing myself in her snug heat, I’m about to blow. I haven’t been inside a woman without a rubber since Natalie, but absolutely nothing compares to the feel of Alyse’s tight, wet, velvety pussy hugging my dick.
Nothing.
Being inside her, skin on skin, is like I’ve reached the pearly gates early.
“Hard, Asher. I want hard.”
“Beg. Beg me to fuck you harder.”
I expect words. What I get instead is a sharp tug as she jerks me to her mouth in an explosive, aggressive, demanding kiss. Dragging my bottom lip between her teeth, she bites so hard I taste blood. When she finally pulls back, her smoky eyes don’t beg.
They challenge.
And I fucking love a good challenge.
“Palms against the wall. Keep them there,” I growl. Jesus, it makes me swell even more when she readily complies, and by the gush of wetness I feel at my command, she loves it when I control her like this.
Smirking, I withdraw slowly until just the tip remains inside. “All right, baby. You want hard, you’ll get hard. Hang on.”
Hands underneath her bare ass for support, I grip tight and slam her down on my straining dick.
Hard.
Filthy.
Rough.
Her breath rushes out on an exhale and I watch a small smile of satisfaction break through the hazy lust.
“Tell me this is okay,” I demand gruffly as I withdraw fully and pound into her again and again. My hips are like pistons and if she says no, I’ll stop, but fuck…it will take a giant feat of willpower, and I left that at the front door.
“Don’t…stop…” she gasps.
That’s all I need. As tightly as I’m gripping her, she’ll probably end up with bruises, but damn if I’m not dying to give her everything she wants. Everything I need her to have. The thought of leaving my marks of passion on the woman I’m falling in love with hits me someplace deep and primal.
As impossible as it seems, I think I’ve already fallen. I have to push that thought to the back of my head. All I can concentrate on right now is bringing us to the brink of rapture so we tumble over together.
I hold her tight, setting a fast, brutal pace and within only minutes, her walls clench moments before she closes her eyes and her body convulses in pure bliss. I watch her unravel and I’m thoroughly, hopelessly lost. She’s so damn beautiful my breath stops. My legs shake from my effort as I continue to pound into her, not slowing a bit. I stave off my own climax so I can watch the waves of euphoria wash over her gorgeous, flushed face.
I don’t think I’ll ever tire of the light blush that takes over her fair skin when she orgasms at my hand. It’s quickly becoming my favorite color.
“Baby, I’m going to come,” I rasp. Finally, unable to last any longer, I let the last of her orgasm milk me. I throw my head back and with a howl follow her into the Promised Land.
I empty everything I have into her.
My seed.
My love.
My very fucking essence.
It’s official. Somehow within a matter of what seems like only days or months, but what has really been years in the making, I have found the one woman who has the power to outright decimate me. I was wrong before. It wasn’t Natalie.
It was Alyse.
It’s always been Alyse.
And I’ve just handed her the golden keys, whether she realizes it or not.
Chapter 18
Alyse
“Tell me something about your childhood I don’t know.”
It’s dark, it’s late, and I’m exhausted. Asher’s fingers lightly trailing up and down my spine have me nearly lulled to sleep when he quietly asks his question. We haven’t been able to get enough of each other and spent the last three hours indulging everywhere in Asher’s apartment. He may be almost thirty, but the man doesn’t seem to need much recovery time, that’s for damn sure. I’m deliciously sore and unbelievably sated, but I need the healing effects of sleep now.
Once again he’s insisted I stay and sleep in his bed. This time I don’t argue. He’s sexed the fight right out of me. In truth I really want to stay.
“What do you want to know?” I ask groggily, trying to blink away the mist of unconsciousness that’s almost claimed me.
“Anything. Everything. The good, the bad, the ugly. I want it all, Alyse.” His soft words almost undo me. I tilt my head from its resting place in the crook of his muscular arm and even in the dark, I see him looking at me. Into me. I want to close my eyes to keep him out almost as much as I want to invite him in. I want to let him root around and find all my hiding places so I don’t have to reveal them on my own.
I’m finding I want Asher to know everything about me, because somehow I think he’ll accept the bruised parts of me. Wanting it and getting the words out, however, are two completely different things. That’s the hard part. That’s always been the hard part. I don’t know where I inherited my inability to let people all the way in, but I hate it.
And somehow Asher seems to know this about me.
“Let’s start with an easy one. Tell me a story about you and Livia.”
I smile when I remember a particularly funny story. “Okay, well one summer when I was ten and Libs was fourteen we went to a park about a mile away from our house. My bike had a flat tire, so we took Livia’s, riding together. But we weren’t supposed to do that, because we had crashed before and if Dad caught us, we would have been in big trouble.
“Riding to the park, I sat on the seat and Livia stood, peddling the entire way herself. We must have stayed at the park for hours. Getting out of the house was not only an escape, but a necessity sometimes.” I sigh heavily, wishing my childhood was different. Happy. Like Asher’s. Rubbing my back gently he’s silent, letting me continue at my own pace.
“Anyway, it was starting to get dark and we decided we needed to head home, but this time instead of sitting on the seat, I rode on the handlebars.”
“Uh oh.” He laughs and I join him.
“Yeah, uh oh. So th
ere was this pretty steep hill. We walked it on the way there, but on the way back, we decided to ride it instead. We flew down that thing going probably twenty miles an hour and Libs lost control after catching some gravel. I had on a sundress. Dresses and gravel do not mix, let me tell you.”
“Ouch.” He’s laughing harder and louder, which makes me do the same.
“Livia only had a few scrapes, but I filleted the skin from the right side of my ass, like literally took the first two layers right off. I couldn’t sit down for days and I had to wear thongs for what seemed like a month at the time, but was probably only a few days, because regular underwear stuck to the wound and our neighbor, who’s a nurse, insisted that it ‘get some air’ to heal properly. No ten-year-old should be forced to wear thongs. It’s damage I can’t undo to this day.”
Asher’s entire body is now shaking.
“Do you know what it’s like to have your dad see your bare butt at age ten? It’s humiliating. I still have scars from that incident, physical and mental.”
“Stop, stop.” He can barely catch his breath, he’s laughing so hard. After a few seconds, he manages to ask, “Did you get in trouble?”
“No. We told Dad we collided on swings at the playground. He never knew we’d crashed on Livia’s bike, or if he did, he never let on.”
“You collided on swings?” he asks incredulously.
“It was the best lie we could come up with on our long hobble home.”
We laugh for a few more minutes, before he wipes the tears from his eyes. “Oh my God. That’s a great story, Alyse.”
Now I’m wide-awake. “Your turn.” I prop up on my elbow and gaze down at him. Even in no light he is simply beautiful. His raw masculinity is hypnotizing. I trace the black Chinese tats he has running down the outside of his bulky left bicep.
