by Elaria Ride
But then she ups the ante.
Without breaking eye contact for a second, Autumn licks her lips — a challenge if I’ve ever seen one — and without a second thought, my body acts of its own volition. Despite the thousands of reasons this is a bad idea, I’m powerless to stop what I do next.
In one fell swoop, I lean in, grab Autumn by the waist, and kiss her.
13
Autumn
I might be biased, but Asher Bosco is the best fucking kisser the world has ever seen.
And now that he’s started, I doubt I’ll ever let him stop.
His lips slide over mine with ease, applying the most perfect pressure as we face each other on his floor. The fireplace merrily pops behind us as and I’m overcome with how amazing he smells… or maybe that’s just the way I smell, having showered with his shampoo.
From the rational part of my brain, I dimly realize that with anyone else, this entire exchange would be awkward; Asher and I are both on our knees, crouched beside his tiny kitchen table. I’m wearing pajamas (with no pants), my hair half-dry from the shower.
But I can’t focus on the slight awkwardness of the position or the wood digging into my legs. I can’t even bring myself to give a shit that I’m half-clothed and half-drunk and (maybe) mildly concussed… not when his lips are caressing mine, not when his large, warm palms are cradling my jaw.
Just when I think I’d be fine spending the rest of the evening wrapped in his slow, passionate kisses, Asher changes things up. He pulls back, his green eyes darker and more glazed than I’ve ever seen them, and with the quirk of his eyebrow, something shifts.
Although we haven’t shared a single word, we both know there’s no more time for sweetness and innocence and tenderness. We both know everything has changed into something primal. Charged. Hot.
This is what we’ve been dancing around since we first saw each other… this magnetic pull, this force of nature. This — this thing — something I’ve never felt with anyone else.
As if reading my thoughts, Asher growls from deep in his throat and brings me in even closer, his tongue slipping between my lips. I whimper and press myself to him as his wandering hands drop to my waist.
But a niggling, tiny voice in the back of my brain pipes up, just as Asher’s hands find purchase on my hips; for some inexplicable reason, I briefly wonder how I compare.
Even if I hadn’t seen the condom on the floor, it’s clear Asher’s done this a lot. Going down on me had proven as much. He knows just how to move, exactly the right spots to hit, the precise pressure to provide. But (as Asher well knows) I’m just a clueless, fat virgin who has only kissed a handful of guys in her life. Through my haze of arousal, I continue worrying about all this, fearing I don’t stack up… but then Asher’s lips descend to my jawline, and I stop worrying about anything at all.
“Mmm,” I moan, arching my back to provide him better access.
Asher groans against my neck, as the deep timbre of his voice sends shivers up my spine, I find that I don’t particularly care that he’s more worldly. Or that he’s (likely) been with quite a few girls.
Because right here, right now, I want him… and I’m pretty damn Asher wants me, too. We’ve been dancing around this for six months, hiding our feelings, betraying our desires, and I will not ignore the one time my body gives me the courage to seize what I want.
As Asher continues to kiss me, I rub my thighs together to quell the building pressure between them. It’s no use, though; since removing my (his?) pajama pants during Strip Go Fish, the black lace of my panties only makes things worse.
If the situation were funny, I might laugh… but as it stands, rubbing my thighs together only flames the desperate heat swirling through my lower belly. The lace presses against my soaking center with the most delicious friction, and after a moment of just doing this — rocking while he sucks and nibbles my neck — I have a moment where I idly consider if I’ve ever been aroused this quickly.
No, I decide, his lips traveling to the other side. It’s never been like this. Not once. Not in any fantasy or with any passing partner or —
Oh!
I gasp as his right hand dropsto my hip, as his warm palm wraps around me for better leverage. And although I think he’s unaware, his fingertips are dangling precariously close to the swell of my enormous ass.
“Asher,” I murmur in warning as he busies himself on the other side of my neck. His lips locate a pressure point, and I cry out and arch my back even more.
Of course, I have zero qualms with him touching my ass — or any part of me. But Asher is the overly noble, law-abiding, rugged-man type; he’s not thinking that I’m half-naked as his hands descend. He hasn’t touched the lace yet, but based on how fast he’s moving, it’s imminent… and I know that when he touches my panties, if he touches my panties, he’ll be filled with so much guilt and remorse he won’t be able to see straight.
“Asher,” I repeat with more strength as his hand creeps even lower — and just as I’d feared, it’s like I’ve doused in him freezing water.
His head jerks up to meet mine, his eyes as wide as saucers.
“Oh god,” he says, the horror clear in his tone. “Autumn. I’m…” He swallows, trailing off. “I’m so sorry. God, I didn’t mean — I never wanted to — ”
He pulls back, putting as much distance between us as possible.
But I won’t let him do that.
“No,” I say firmly, placing a finger over his lips. “You didn’t take advantage of me.” My cheeks flush; suddenly, I’m caught in one of those moments where the intimacy following an act is more intimate than the act, itself.
Kind of like hugging your gynecologist after a pelvic exam.
Shit… I let out an uncontrollable snort.
Have I mentioned, lately, that there’s something wrong with me? Despite how crazy it is, despite how inappropriate the entire situation has become, I start laughing, right there on the spot. This little scenario — giving Dr. Feinstein a big old hug while he’s brandishing a speculum — is also the type of thing that gets funnier the more you think about it.
So I just keep laughing, kneeling on the floor in my panties, probably leaving Asher more confused and bewildered than ever.
He waits until my giggles have subsided to bring it up himself.
“Did uh…” He chuckles. “Did I do something—?”
That snaps me out of it.
“No!” I say fiercely, wiping away a tear. “You did nothing wrong, Asher, I just… had a weird thought, and — ”
He shakes his head playfully. “In my defense, you have a lot of weird thoughts, Autumn Walker. You’re have to be more specific.”
I give him a guilty grin, but it’s time to face the music; my odd little diversion only bought me so much time. “Ok. I um… I liked what you were doing,” I manage, averting my eyes. “But…”
Almost immediately, I realize I’ve said the wrong thing; Asher’s expression morphs from playful to austere. Shit. He’s taken my “but” as a dismissal.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “You don’t have to explain.”
I wave my hand, but I can’t seem to find the right words.
How am I supposed to admit that being a fat chick has given me these lifelong insecurities — even if they rarely show up these days? Even if we’d already fooled around last night? How am I supposed to share that yes, I’m a virgin — but despite my drunken bravado all those months ago, I really don’t make a habit of casual hookups? How am I supposed to convey to this dude that he’s everything I’ve ever wanted… but that this fucking terrifies me, because he’s shifted everything I ever thought I wanted before?
These are also deep thoughts for someone who has been recently concussed, is half-drunk, and has been more aroused in the past twenty-four hours than she’s been in her life.
But as I’m mulling all of this over, Asher just apologizes more and more, tumbling deeper and deeper.
“You sh
ould never apologize for stopping, Autumn,” he continues, rising to stand, “not with me, but honestly not with anyone. If it’s not what you want, it’s not what you want.”
He sighs, running a hand down his face — and because he looks pretty distracted, I use the opportunity to stand up, myself.
“I’m just ashamed because I definitely know better,” he mutters, staring at the fire. “There are so many reasons this shouldn’t work. You’re my employee and I’m destined to be a single dude who lives in this cabin, and we just…” He shakes his head. “We just let the alcohol get the best of us.”
My fist clenches at my side.
Of all the things he could say, that’s the worst. It hadn’t felt like the alcohol was the only thing to blame. His speech a few hours ago had cleared up a lot. I’d finally understood why he’s so afraid, what had made him so broken. I feel awful he’d had to go through all that alone, that he still seeks to understand his place in the world, so many years later.
It’s clear I can’t solve all of his problems. He will need more help than I can provide, but I can’t help but think this would be a good start. Learning to reciprocate love would give him an opportunity to heal. Now we both have a chance to overcome the darkness of the past… through each other.
I peer at Asher as he gazes at the firelight, his jaw set, his eyes warm but serious. And I realize I have to try. Even if it backfires, I have to fucking try.
“Can you… just pretend I’m not a virgin?” I whisper. My voice sounds much smaller than I’d intended.
There’s a beat of silence — and then Asher groans. “Autumn,” he says, his eyes slammed shut. “I don’t think you understand—”
“What don’t I understand?”
Asher sighs. “If we have sex,” he begins, turning his eyes skyward. He lets out a deep breath and waits a full three seconds before speaking again.
“If we have sex...” he eventually repeats, his voice ringing with a pleading vulnerability I’ve never heard before.
Asher swallows before continuing. “As I said earlier, sex isn’t casual — at least not for me. Maybe that makes me old-fashioned… but I know that if I got to be with you, like I’ve wanted to for ages?” He ruefully shakes his head. “That’s not something I could ever walk away from.”
I suck in a breath. Somehow, I hadn’t expected that rationale, but now it makes perfect sense. He’s been burned before. And badly. I’d just been too tickled by the thought of him having feelings for me. Whatever he’s been through in the past hasn’t even crossed my mind.
“So.” Asher’s gaze shifts back to the fire. “If we sleep together, we won’t just be friends. Or coworkers. Or fuck-buddies. I won’t be able to see you around the visitor’s center and wave at you in passing.”
He bites his lip. I can tell that despite the revelations I’ve just received, something even bigger is coming… something he’s wanted to say all along.
“And,” he adds, wincing. “I know — beyond a shadow of a doubt — that if we have sex?” He lets out a deep breath. “I’ll never get over you.”
Oh.
He stares back into the fire, something mysterious and brooding stealing over his features. If I’ve seen that once, I’ve seen it a thousand times: Automatic Asher is back… but it’s only now I realize that’s his default. Automatic Asher is how he shuts down, how he ignores his feelings. He’s lived his whole life building this seclusion and separating himself and making himself unlovable.
Fuck.
I stare at him, my eyes watering; how could anyone ever find him unlovable? This is the man who showed up to work early every single day for six months because he didn’t want me to be cold. This is a man who took me to his house when I fell — who risked his job, the only thing he’s ever cared about — just to make sure I was ok. This is the man who went out of his way to pleasure me, to make sure I was happy, without ever thinking of himself.
I take a determined step forward, my chest heaving… and with that, I vow I’ll never let Automatic Asher take control. Not again.
“Well, you’re in luck,” I murmur, lacing my fingers through his. Asher rips his head away from the fire and turns to me, his brow knitted in confusion.
“What if…” I breathe, tracing a finger down his bare chest, “you got to see me every day… and every night?”
There’s a pause, and I feel Asher’s breath hitching in his throat.
“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it,” he whispers, the firelight dancing in his eyes. “I’m serious,” he adds, his voice shaky. “Autumn… I can’t. I can’t take it if you — if we—”
“Asher. We want the same things.”
There’s another beat as the fire cracks and pops around us… and with that, it’s impossible to tell who moves first. Our bodies come together with the force of a thunderclap, our teeth clacking in our haste to find each other, once and for all. Asher’s hands cradle my jaw, his fingers toying with the curly hairs on the nape of my neck. I welcome his tongue, tipping my head back for better access.
“Fuck,” he moans, his mouth drifting down my jaw again. “I’ve wanted this for so long… you have no idea.”
I manage a giggle, even as his large palm directly cups the swell of my ass — and this time, with intention. “I think I do,” I murmur back, my voice scarcely above a sigh. “Because I’ve wanted you for just as long.”
“Oh?” he asks, distracted; he continues sucking and nibbling at my neck, but this time, he doesn’t hide the erection tenting his pajama pants. I rub myself against it with a whimper; I love having this effect on him. I love knowing what I can do.
But suddenly, it’s not enough. I need to feel him; I need to see him; I need to give him the pleasure he’d so selflessly given me, just last night. So in a blitz of newfound courage, I pull away from his mouth, arch an eyebrow, and give his chest a good push — toward his bed.
In my newfound bravery, though, I haven’t accounted on Automatic Asher leaving the premises. It seems this new Asher, one I’ve scarcely encountered, is not one to take commands. He bends down, scoops me up from under my knees, and marches me to bed, himself.
I shriek and giggle as he drops me on the mattress with a lopsided grin. “I’m the one calling the shots here,” he says, smirking. I roll my eyes, but then Asher shifts until he’s positioned over me, his elbows propped on either side of my face.
He gives me a soft smile, his finger brushing my cheek, and for a few seconds, we just stare at each other like two loons. I finally break the tension by arching my back and claiming his lips with mine, and just like that, we’re at it again — kissing, nibbling, touching, moaning.
Asher’s large hands roam beneath my shirt, and just like last night, I love how he makes me feel. My stomach is still fat — but this time, I’m with someone who embraces it. He doesn’t treat my soft curves with disrespect, doesn’t glide over them on his mission to get somewhere better. To Asher, my stomach is just another lovely part of me, another part he finally gets to touch. His breathing grows ragged, his eyes hooded, as he uncovers each new patch of skin. I’m not sure he’s even aware as words of affirmation fall from his lips.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he breathes, his fingers skating the underside of my bra. Then he lifts his head to face me, his erection digging into my thigh. “Can I touch you?”
I don’t respond in words. I draw a deep breath, drop my arms to my stomach, and remove my t-shirt. Just like that, I’m lying there in just my bra and panties… more exposed (and turned on) than I’ve ever been.
He moans from deep in his throat as his eyes roam my body, but he doesn’t ask permission before he moves again. Asher reaches behind my back and unhooks my bra with surprising speed and deftness, despite the size of his fingers.
“Done this a lot?” I ask, smirking up at him.
Asher laughs. “No, actually. I’ve only done this a couple of times, a very long time ago. But I’ve uh… I’ve thought about doing this. With you.
A lot.”
Wait, seriously?! I prop myself up on my elbows. “So… you’re seriously telling me you haven’t—”
He clears his throat. “Hooked up with anyone? No. Not since Sarah.”
I give him a plain stare as annoyance momentarily replaces arousal. Does this dude think I was born yesterday? “Yeah, right,” I mutter. “And I’m sure you just woke up knowing how to give oral like that!”
There’s a pause after my words. I swallow, embarrassed; I hadn’t meant to sound so jealous, so bitter. Before I get the chance to apologize, he interrupts me.
“Is that what you think?” Asher asks, incredulous. I peer up at him, confused, but he plows on. “Autumn.” He shakes his head, causing his chest muscles to ripple in the firelight. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ve thought about you. A lot.”
I hadn’t expected that.
“Yeah, I have some experience with oral… but for the most part?” He winces, shifting his weight. “I’ve just spent half a year jacking off and thinking about you. So please believe me when I say I’ve… considered all possibilities.”
There’s another pause as I stare at him again. By now, his chest, neck, and face are all flushed bright red. On someone else, his embarrassment might seem goofy… but on Asher, it’s sexy as hell. After all we’ve been through, after all he’s admitted, I know he isn’t the type to play games or lie to me. For a normal dude, it would be awkward to tell a girl you’ve masturbated while thinking about her. For Asher, this confession is much deeper. It carries more emotional weight. It rings with more truth and sensitivity. If he claims that thinking of me has given him… certain skills? Well, far be it from me to deny the evidence of his expertise.
So with that in mind, I grin up at him again, relaxing on the bed. “Yeah, yeah,” I allow, waving my hand. “You’re into fat chicks. You have a type. I get it.”
