I angle my cock toward his chest, stroking myself hard and fast until I finally erupt. White-hot pleasure engulfs my nerve endings, my body convulsing and quivering on top of him. Ropes of come spill onto his pecs, streaking across his neck and chin. He dips his head, opening his mouth to catch a thick glob on his tongue.
It seems the taste of me sends him over the edge. His eyes screw shut, squeezing my ass flush against his hips as he empties inside me. He pulses inside me, and I swear I can feel his heartbeat through his cock, throbbing with heat.
My body gives out. I collapse onto Ashton’s chest, ignoring the sticky mess between us. His arms curl around my waist, pulling me in like he’s afraid I might disappear. He buries his face in my hair and breathes me in.
“You killed me,” he murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion. “I’m dead.”
I laugh softly and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “C’mon. You’re seven years younger than me. Where’s all that youthful energy?”
I shift, carefully easing off him. He whimpers at the loss and grabs at my hips in a feeble attempt to keep me there. When I lookdown at him, his green eyes are wide and pleading, his face scrunched with disapproval.
“Don’t go,” he mutters.
I snicker and shake my head, my joints popping as I slide off the bed. I remove the condom from his softening cock and toss it into the bin near my nightstand.
“We need to shower, baby,” I say, tugging him gently by the hand.
He groans, going boneless against the mattress as I try to pull him upright. “But your bed is so comfy.”
“That’s exactly why we need to get up,” I tease. “If we stay here, we’re never leaving.”
Ashton groans dramatically. “Will you carry me?”
I scoff. “No way! You’re a giant compared to me.”
He flutters his lashes, lips puckered in an exaggerated pout. “I thought I was your baby?”
“Yes,” I deadpan. “A verybigbaby.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Rude.”
I laugh again and give his arm another tug. This time, with a theatric sigh, he finally swings his legs over the side of the bed. He sits there for a second, rubbing his face, hair sticking up in every direction.
As he stands, stretching with a soft groan, his gaze drifts to my nightstand. There are only two things on it: my phone and a picture frame. He steps closer, absently scratching at his chest as he studies it.
The frame’s edges are scuffed, the glass faintly clouded with time. The photo inside has faded from years of sunlight. At the center, my mother sits on a park bench, a brunette woman with olive-toned skin and tired, beautiful eyes. She’s smiling down at a tiny version of me, bundled in her arms in a pale blue blanket. Her expression is soft but worn, dark circles smudged beneath her eyes like she hasn’t slept in weeks.
Ashton glances back at me. “Is this your mom?”
I step up beside him and smile at the picture. “Yeah. Her name was Rachel.” My throat tightens just a little as I say her name. “I was maybe a few months old in that picture.”
“She’s beautiful.” Ashton studies her more closely. “You look like her.”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “I get that a lot.”
He stares at the photo for a long moment, biting the inside of his cheek like he’s trying to memorize her face. Then his expression shifts, something sheepish creeping in.
“Next time I come over, I’m flipping this picture frame face down,” he says. “I don’t like the idea of your mom watching me do lewdious things to you.”
I bark out a laugh, nudging his shoulder. “Lewdious, huh?”
“Yeah. It’s weird. Feels disrespectful.” He gestures vaguely toward the nightstand. “Like, your mom’s right there.”
“You’re ridiculous.” I shake my head fondly and pat his ass, nudging him toward the hallway. “Time to shower.”
He immediately slumps forward, going boneless against me, arms draped dramatically around my shoulders. “Can’t walk,” he moans. “Tragic. Sudden onset paralysis.”
“Mm-hmm. Very serious condition.” I roll my eyes. “Fine. I’ll try carrying you, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
