When she bucks her hips again, aiming to grind her clit against my cock I’ve just freed from my trousers, I slap them back down. I need words. I need permission. Then I’ll drag her into the insanity with me. I’ll have her as high as a kite without a single drug running through her veins.
I’ll make her mine.
I yank on my dick, begging for it to calm down. If it had its way, it would have already torn through her by now. I’m going to hurt her no matter what, but the thickness her taste has instigated will make matters worse. She’s going to bleed, just not in any of the ways I’ve imagined the past year.
“Yes, please—”
“Please, what? Spell it out for me. Say it in a way I can’t misconstrue.” My growl rips through her as I wish my cock could.
“I want you to fuck me. To make me yours.” Lust could be speaking on her behalf, but her eyes don’t show that. They’re reflecting as much ownership as mine.
I relinquish her hips from my grip to seize a condom from my trousers, which are huddled around my knees. There’s a strip of six inside; wanting to get back on the horse means I have a couple of extras.
I’ve just torn through one with my teeth when a knock at my bedroom door startles Zariah so much, she knees me in the head when she clamps her legs shut.
Chapter 17
Zariah
Two knocks, and the hard mask that slipped off Asher’s face only minutes ago returns stronger than ever. I’m bare in front of him, my core dripping and exposed, yet he’s shut down and working on autopilot function.
Although his impenetrable, hard shell has returned, he maintains some of his control. “Wait.” His command is for his visitor, not me.
Happy our interrupter will follow his demand or suffer the consequences, he tugs down my shirt to cover my heated core before standing. I watch him in revered silence when he tucks his cock into his pants and does up the zipper. His penis is erect and ready to go, yet he’s putting it away. God forbid the person disturbing us. I climaxed, yet I’m still on the verge of wanting to kill them, so I don’t see this ending well if Asher is experiencing the same thoughts as me.
The air that shifted between us these past two weeks holds its strength when Asher assists me off my bed. Even if my legs weren’t wobbling in the aftermath of an orgasm, the slickness coating my thighs can’t hide the truth.
Asher Yury just had me quivering beneath him.
Two months ago, I would have never thought it possible. Hell, I wouldn’t have believed you if you predicted this a decade ago. Although I’m displeased by how hastily I gave in to temptation, I’m not surprised. For years, anything Asher wants, he gets—myself included. And for just as long, I’ve dreamed of this very moment.
I stop struggling to break through the haze in my head when Asher stands in front of me. “Go to the bathroom and wash up, but don’t dare touch the areas I just did. I still want you smelling of me when you come back out here.” The demand in his voice sends a wave of excitement over me, as does the burn of his eyes when he rakes them down my body. “I want every inch of you covered with my scent no later than tonight.”
Before excitement can take hold of my senses, impatience gets the better of Asher’s guest. They knock again, louder this time. Their inability to wait has me just as eager to enter the washroom. I still wake up in cold sweats when I dream of Ruslan’s death, so I have no wish to add more barbaric images to my memory bank.
* * *
I’ve just washed my face when Asher fills the bathroom doorway. He has put on a shirt, but his buttons remain undone. He’s holding a box. Itisone you’d expect from a high-end store, except the ribbon curled around it matches the one from my earlier gift, revealing it’s most likely not store bought.
“Is that for me?”
With a smirk that makes my insides tighten, Asher nods. “It was supposed to arrive next week, but I asked Roderick to do a rush order.”
His grin tells me his idea of a rush order and a regular person’s are very different. If it takes longer than it does for him to click his fingers, it’s too slow as far as Asher is concerned. This knowledge is the only thing stopping me from dying of embarrassment at how fast he makes me come undone. It’s extremely fortunate women aren’t capped to one orgasm a day, or Asher might have more to say about my quick trigger.
The giddiness rushing to my head amplifies when Asher guides me out of the bathroom before placing the box down on his bed. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes give me permission to open the box. I do, albeit slowly. This is my second gift from him in under two hours, meaning it is also my second gift in over a decade. My family doesn’t celebrate Christmas, and with my birthday bordering on the anniversary of my mother’s death, it was often forgotten.
I still as memories hold me hostage. “Next week is my birthday.” I stop peeling back layers of tissue paper to lock my watering eyes with Asher’s. “You remember my birthday?”
“It’s not that hard. . . it is exactly two months before mine.” Although he’s playing off his knowledge as if it’s no big deal, I know it is more than that. If he didn’t care, he would have let my birthday come and go without acknowledgment. He didn’t. That means something—it means a lot!
Exhaling, I return to unpacking my gift. There is as much tissue paper in this box as there was in my earlier one, but nothing can detract from the beautiful red coloring of the velvet dress slipped inside.
With my heart rocking out a new tune, I fold back the paper, exposing more of the gorgeous winter wonderland dress that appears extremely costly. It’s been made with the finest materials with long sleeves that will keep me warm and a mermaid tail that will swish well past my toes even in the highest stilettos
It seems a little modest. . . until I lift it out of its box. There is a large split that goes all the way up one side. For its symmetry with the hidden zipper at the back, it’s not hard to determine how high on my thigh it will sit. It’s one of those risqué dresses you consider not wearing panties for as you’d hate for panty lines to ruin it’s design.
When a shimmer sparkles from beneath the white tissue paper in the box, I lay the dress on Asher’s bed. There’s more than just a dress inside. There’s lingerie: one pair of panties and a bra more beautiful than any I’ve owned before it. The diamond in the middle of the black satin design looks authentic, and the lace edging the bra is made from the softest material. I’m not too sure about the thong. I’ve never worn one before, but it will take care of my earlier worries of a panty line.
