by Linda Kage
“Oh...yeah.” I flushed, wondering what she’d think of me having a pet squirrel, hoping it didn’t freak her out. “That’s Mozart.”
Instead of shying away in horror, though, she grinned affectionately and reached up.
“No, wait!” I leapt forward to stop her so she didn’t get scratched to hell, but she merely reached for the peanut, causing Mozart to race away and then stop and watch as she shimmied the nut free. Then he twitched his tail, tempted when she eased the peanut through the wires, offering it to him.
I knew exactly how he felt.
He inched forward and stopped. I held my breath, curious if the squirrel would actually take the nut straight from her fingers. I wanted to warn her to be careful, but from the cautious way she moved, she already knew.
When Mozart snagged the peanut and took off, I gasped, “Holy shit. He really took it from you. Straight from your hand.”
Elisa spun to me, beaming and proud. Her smile stole my breath and before I could stop myself, I was cupping her face and kissing her.
“I love that smile,” I admitted. “I want to steal it all for myself so you’ll never be able to smile at anyone else the way you’re smiling at me right now.”
Her gaze softened and eyes glittered as if filling with emotion. Then she touched my cheeks gently and pressed a soft kiss to my mouth.
Afterward, she pulled away and tugged at my long-sleeved shirt. Realizing she wanted to peel it off me, I lifted my arms and let her remove it. As soon as I was bare, she sucked in a breath, her gaze darting crazily around my chest before she reached with tentative fingers and began to touch me, touch me as if this were her one and only chance and she wanted to absorb every moment of the experience.
I caught a piece of her hair and watched her face, the awe and the thrill controlling her expression. She looked up at me again, grinning that grin I was going to steal. So I kissed her and picked her up, then carried her to my bed.
Laying her gently on the mattress, I took a second to stand over her and simply enjoy the view of her on my sheets. But she sat up, kicked off her heels and scooted to the edge so she could reach for the zipper of my jeans. This time, she was more successful, and I stepped out of them when she pushed them down my hips until I was in nothing but my boxers.
She reached for my cock, tenting out the front of my shorts, but I caught her wrist.
“Not yet.”
Instead, I coaxed her to lift her arms so I could slip her dress up and over her head. Then I helped her out of her bra and grinned as she flung aside the scrap of material at her waist that had once been her panties.
Panties I’d destroyed.
Then I nudged her to lie back as I climbed over her. Her brown eyes swirled with yearning as she watched me settle on top of her. When she grinned, I had to grin back.
“Hi,” I whispered, to which she whispered back, “Hola.”
Noticing the necklace she wore when gold glinted from the base of her throat, I paused, taking in the familiar pendant. “Guadalupe,” I murmured, remembering the name of the saint in the image.
She smiled as if proud of me for getting it right. And that smile...damn. I leaned in and kissed her, deep and wet, open-mouthed with tongues swirling. She moaned and arched up under me.
Hard nipples gouged into my chest and compelled me to investigate them. I tore my mouth from hers so I could shimmy down and lap up the beaded tip of one breast with my tongue. Crying out, she grasped the sheets under her, and I drew more of her into my mouth, sucking. All the while, my fingers sought her curves, learning every dip and swell.
When I moved to the second breast, she began to pet my hair and down my back, mapping out just as much of me as I was of her.
“Te amo,” she whispered, strumming her fingers down my ribcage.
Remembering how Remy had told me that meant good job, I lifted my face and grinned. “Thank you. But you haven’t seen anything yet.”
She blinked as if confused. But I was quick to show her what else I had in store for her perfect body. I kissed my way down, over her navel and to the apex of her thighs. Catching her breath, she clutched my hair, preparing for me to start.
I grinned up at her. Her chest heaved as she breathed hard and her dewy brown eyes looked glossy and unfocused. She was so turned on I knew I had this.
“That’s it, baby,” I encouraged, patting her grip in my hair. “Hold on tight, because this is going to be one intense ride.”
I lit up the second his tongue touched me. Flicking it in a quick, gentle tease, he stirred me up in less time than it took me to cry out some dazed Spanish phrases. I belatedly blurted them out anyway, probably ripping some of his gorgeous dark hair out by the roots as overwhelming wet heat consumed me. He finally stopped playing and stroked boldly between my pussy lips to find my quivering clit.
“Hijo de puta,” I gasped. “¡Chinga! ¡Mierda! ¡Oh, Dios mío!”
He slid two fingers into me, and I cried out his name as my womb contracted almost painfully. The spasms were so severe they took my breath. I could only arch under him, shocked, electrocuted, dazed as wave after wave flooded me, sizzling every nerve ending in my body until I collapsed onto the mattress, panting and drained.
I suddenly knew why the French called this the little death, because I’d certainly just passed through a whole other realm of existence.
Seriously. Best orgasm ever.
I stared up at the tiled ceiling of Asher’s basement apartment, not sure how I was supposed to go on from here. Life as I knew it had just altered completely.
“Damn, you look so good right now,” he murmured in one of those smugly satisfied male voices when he sat up.
I slid my gaze to him, not sure how he could call me beautiful when I was still half deceased, not yet fully resurrected from my little death. But his grin only grew as our gazes met. Oh, yeah, he knew exactly what he’d just done to me. Then he went and cockily wiped the back of his hand over his red, swollen lips. Beautiful, magical lips that housed the most perfect tongue ever.
I whimpered and my sex quivered wanting him back on me.
But Dios mío. Who knew Asher Hart would turn out to be a freaking sex god?
Still riding my high, I grinned as he stooped over me, licking my erect nipples playfully as he leaned past me to reach for his nightstand and pull open the top drawer. My body lit up, realizing he was searching for a condom. Oh, goody. I glowed in eagerness. More sex.
Then he sat up, a familiar box in hand with my own handwriting on the outside, the words Use Me Please written out with a smiley face beside them. I glowed, happy to see he hadn’t used any yet and was struggling to tear open the box.
It took him a second to see my message, and when he did, he stilled, his determined smile falling.
“Shit,” he whispered to himself as this crestfallen depression blanketed his expression.
Realizing he was remembering his promise to me—boy-me—I gulped, suddenly not so glowy. I was making him feel guilty.
The last thing I wanted to do was cause him any distress. This was all on me. The guilt should be mine, mine alone. Not his. He’d done nothing wrong.
Damn it, what had I done to my beautiful, sweet Asher?
Reaching up, I cupped his face, trying to convey that he was innocent, guilt-free, and fine. His tormented gaze moved to me.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I promised a very good friend I wouldn’t do this.”
Tears rushed to my eyes, not only because I hated doing this to him but because he’d called boy-me a very good friend. I sat upright and rested my cheek against his, trying to let him know it was okay, I understood. Even though the girl parts of me were throbbing and ready to keep going, I didn’t want to torture him with any undue guilt.
His Asher-smell filled my nostrils and I breathed him in, realizing this was probably the last time I’d ever get to be this close to him. I smoothed my cheek along his, relishing the soft rasp of beard burn I gave myself. I touched my
lips to his temple, and he let out a tortured sound as he squeezed his eyes closed.
I pressed my forehead to his and he pressed back, clasping a hand around the back of my neck to keep me from leaving.
“What the hell am I doing?” he bit out harshly to himself, shaking his head back and forth. “This shouldn’t be so hard to stop. I don’t know the first thing about you. You don’t understand a fucking word I say. And why am I sitting here talking to myself while you’re naked in my bed when I just want to bury myself so deep inside you I can’t remember my own name?”
Opening his lashes, he pulled away and searched my gaze as if he was trying to get inside my head. “And yet,” he murmured. “Whenever I look into your eyes, I feel like there could be more, so much more. Like there could be everything.”
I kissed him. Seriously, there was no helping it. The man couldn’t say shit like that to me and not expect me to molest him senseless. My tongue spiked deep, and he was right there with me, pushing me back onto the mattress and ripping off his shorts before opening the condoms and putting one on with a savage intensity that only made me wetter. Knowing all that intensity would be focused on me soon—inside me—I arched into him, tugging at his shoulders desperately.
Then I glanced down, and my mouth went dry as I watched him roll the non-latex over his length. But shit. He’d been big when I’d spied him limp in the Chicago hotel room. But erect, Asher’s cock was massively enormous. Without a doubt, I’d never had one that big before.
It kind of worried me, and I shied back as he leaned down on top of me. He looked so predatory, I knew I was going to be taken hard, not gently. It thrilled as much as it scared me.
He must’ve sensed my wariness because he paused and crinkled his eyebrows as he looked into my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
I gulped. “Grande.”
“Grande,” he repeated, confused at first. Then his eyes cleared and he translated, “Big.” Then that smug male grin reappeared. “Why, thank you.”
I scowled because I hadn’t been trying to compliment him, the goober. God, he could be such a guy. But then he seemed to realize I was more worried than amazed.
The backs of his fingers feathered across my cheek as he whispered, “Baby, don’t even worry about that. It’ll fit. I promise you.”
Yeah, easy for him to say. He wasn’t about to be impaled by the Empire State Building of male appendages. But then he pressed the head of himself against my opening and I spread my legs wider, eager to be filled despite his size, because damn it, big suddenly seemed very appealing. My mouth watered as he thrust forward, and the delicious feel of my inner walls stretching, and then stretching some more, to accommodate him had me moaning, “Yes! Yes!”
Then he thrust deep, and powerful, and I’d been so right. He did not go gently into that good night. No, sir, he did not. He plunged with, I swear, everything he had in him.
I cried out from the invasion, but not from any kind of pain.
Damn, but he’d been right. He did fit. Perfectly, blissfully snugly. And it felt so good.
The pleasure was so shocking my inner muscles seized and I came all over his monster cock before he could even begin to pump. He held still inside me, watching my face as I orgasmed around him. Then he grinned as I finished and tried to catch my breath.
“See,” he said. “Perfect fit.”
The show-off!
I loved it.
Pulling out, he shoved back in, making me gasp from the impact. The man then commenced to fuck my ever-loving brains out. I could only hold on for dear life as he pumped his hips, pistoning into and out of me, driving me out of my mind from the pleasure.
“Goddamn,” he hissed, pressing his forehead to mine as his powerful hips slammed against mine. “This is not just sex,” he panted.
My lashes fluttered open, but I could barely focus on him. The world was too blurry, my body was still experiencing too much bliss.
“Feels more like a reaping,” he gasped, burying all ten fingers in my hair so he could hold my head steady and stare into my eyes. “What the hell are you taking from me, woman?”
I wasn’t sure if I was taking as much as he was giving, or more aptly, we were exchanging. My soul for his. It was so beautiful tears filled my eyes.
“Te amo,” I told him.
But all he did was nod. “I know. It’s good. So damn good. The best ever.”
He bowed his head and buried his face against my shoulder as his body tensed. When he came, I felt the charge from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair, and it was as if I was forced to ignite with him.
Grasping hold of each other, we rode the storm together until each of our bodies settled.
He collapsed on top of me, heavy and so deliciously warm. I burrowed against him, relishing this moment, enjoying it while it lasted.
“Te amo,” I admitted again.
But all he said was, “Yeah, it was good.”
I furrowed my brow, wondering why he kept saying that in answer to my big declaration, until I remembered—oh, yeah—Sticks-me had been the one to tell him te amo meant good job.
I blew out a breath, relieved and yet also disappointed he had no idea what I was really saying. It was just as well he never knew. Maybe this way I could still preserve some of my dignity after he found out the truth and dropped me flat.
But the idea of losing him made tears sprout from my eyes. I wiped at my wet cheek just as he mumbled something and rolled off me, falling heavily onto the mattress beside me. I blinked, stunned as he literally passed out seconds after coming.
“Well, I guess he does sleep,” I announced aloud, a bit disappointed, but also relieved I had a moment to be myself.
Asher didn’t reply, his lips parting as he drew in long drugging breaths.
He looked kind of cute, worn out and expended like that, yet satisfied and content. I reached out and gently took a piece of his hair to brush it across his forehead.
Murmuring sleepily, he said, “Sorry. Can never stay awake after sex.”
I grinned. “It’s okay,” I told him in English, and he was so out of it he wasn’t even aware I was no longer speaking in Spanish.
Taking advantage of the moment, I stroked him all over, every line of his face, his shoulders, each rib, around his belly button. When I came to the mass between his legs, I took care of his condom for him, sure he’d be grateful for the lack of a mess when he woke up. And while I was in the bathroom, disposing of it, I peed and washed my hands, basically freshening myself.
I was still naked when I came out of the bathroom. Clanging from the cage made me glance at Mozart, who was watching me a little bit too alertly.
“Hey, stop staring, you perv.” I slapped my hands over my breasts. Then I decided, “Yeah, you’re definitely a boy squirrel.”
Realizing I wasn’t going to provide him with any more of a peep show, he turned away and scampered off, deeper into his cage away from me.
Then I returned to the bed so I could sit on the edge and watch the insomniac rest deeply. “You really are special,” I told him, reaching out to run my fingers through his hair again. But as I tried to pull away, he grasped my wrist, making me gasp.
Bleary green eyes fluttered open. “Don’t go,” he slurred, tumbling me onto the mattress and right up against him.
Unable to deny such a request, I wiggled a bit to get comfy, and then I let him spoon around me with my ass tucked into his lap and his arm wrapped around my waist. Together, we gave a contented sigh.
I closed my eyes as he stroked his hands idly up and down my hip. But then his fingers moved higher, and he slid them around to cup my breast. When he thumbed my nipple, making it immediately harden, I tensed and didn’t mean to, but I pressed my bottom back into him.
His dick twitched against me. Moisture collected between my legs, and before I knew it, I was panting for more as he rolled me onto my stomach and pushed into me from behind.
The thrust caught me off guard and made me cry
out...in a very good way. He pumped a few more times before hissing a curse and jerking out.
“Shit, sorry. Condom.” I gaped in shock as I glanced back to watch him dive for the spilled box of condoms on the nightstand and roll one on.
He’d felt so good; I hadn’t even remembered. This was scary as much as it was powerful. Whatever was happening between us wasn’t just normal sex; he’d been right about that.
When he pushed back into me from behind again, I was ready this time, but the shock of his dick inside me was still a delicious rush. I pushed back into him and he surged forward. His groan of satisfaction told me he liked my eagerness. Then he gathered a handful of my hair at the base of my neck and kept my head pinned to my pillow while I lifted my ass to give him deeper access. In return, he groaned. I started to come in hard heaving pants.
I blurted out broken Spanish, because for some reason that was the language that came to me when I was in the throes of passion.
But he seemed to know I was blurting out how much I enjoyed this because he muttered “Fuck, yeah,” before slamming into me to release himself.
This time, he actually had the wherewithal to get his condom off and thrown into a nearby trash can before he curled up onto his side and gathered me close to cuddle with him. With a lazy yawn, he mumbled, “Good thing we don’t understand each other and can’t talk after sex, anyway, because you’d get a really shitty conversation out of me if we could.”
I grinned, not minding how I could put his butt to sleep so easily. He needed all the rest he could get.
When he began to breathe heavily behind me, I closed my eyes and rested.
I have no idea how long we slept, curled up together like that. I just knew a phenomenon had taken place because I could never cuddle with a guy for the full night. Five minutes with Fisher, and I’d been squirming away because he’d been too hot and stifling.
With Asher, it felt too nice to move.
But I had to get out of here...unless I wanted to confess everything to him, which I so didn’t. Not right now. Not while his apartment still smelled like sex.
I’d done the ultimate. I’d slept with him on top of all the rest of my deception.
