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Chapter Fifty Two
Blair
Cyrus has been hovering over me all day like an obsessed mother hen. It’s getting really annoying, and we are butting heads and snapping at each other, so I leave him to calm down with Bray and go to find Asher, who disappeared a few hours ago.
The police still haven’t found anything. They came back for more questions and told me to stay in the house and that there would be a police officer outside at all times. I just really hope it’s not that dipshit asshole who’s always trying to feel me up.
I find Asher in the garage, the music blasting. He’s sitting so he’s half facing the door on a little stool before a sexy as hell new bike I’ve not seen before. Paints in hand, with his tongue caught in his lips, he leans in to paint a line. I still for a moment, just watching him.
He leans back, checking his progress before running a paint-stained hand through his hair, then he shifts closer and carries on. He’s so fucking adorable, and remembering the way those brushes and hands felt on my body? Well, it has me shivering. Only Crew could keep me horny in a life-and-death situation.
“Whose bike is it?” I ask.
He jumps and spins, his eyes wide as he glances behind me. I follow his gaze, but there’s no one there. “What?”
“I thought you were with Bray and Cyrus,” he says, panicking. “They were supposed to keep you busy.”
“Busy?” Moving inside the garage, I give the bike another look. “Asher, what’s going on?”
The guilty drop of his eyes has me snorting. He’s a terrible liar. “I, erm, nothing.”
“Liar,” I taunt. “Come on, tell me.”
Sighing, he looks up. “If I do, you still have to act surprised, okay? We’ve been working on this for weeks, and I don’t wanna ruin the surprise.”
“Surprise? For me? Tell me!” I almost jump up and down, excited for the first time in days, and it takes my mind off my worries.
He must see that and decide it’s worth ruining the surprise for, lucky me, because he concedes, “Okay, come here.”
I do, leaning over his shoulder to look at the incredible painting. As soon as I see it, my heart melts. There, in his beautiful artwork style, is the name ‘Darling’ surrounded by skulls, flowers, and such beautiful, intricate work I can’t help but stare.
“It’s for you. Bray and Cyrus built it, that’s what we needed parts from Jay for, and I’m painting it for you. If you’re Crew, you have to have your own bike. Plus, Cyrus thought it might stop you from stealing his for joyrides.”
“I did that once,” I whisper, still staring.
“Five times last week,” he jokes, but I sense his nervousness. “Do you like it? I can change whatever you want—”
“Don’t you dare! It’s perfect.” I reach down and cup his chin, dragging his head back until his eyes meet mine. “You are perfect.”
His grin is wide and sexy as hell. “Want to take it for a test ride?” he purrs.
“You bet your fine ass I do, but shouldn’t we wait for them?”
“Oh, don’t worry, we aren’t leaving the garage. Now bend your sexy ass over the bike,” he orders as he puts his paints down and gets to his feet.
What he means clicks into place, and I swear I’ve never stripped so fast in my entire life. As he laughs, I bend myself over the bike, wiggling my ass to entice him. My bare breasts press against the cold metal, making me gasp as it cools my overheated skin.
I feel him step up behind me, and suddenly, he kicks out, widening my stance as he grips my hair and yanks my head back. Then, he licks a long line up my throat to my ear.
“I’m going to fuck you until your cum covers the bike. You’ll remember it every time you sit your perfect ass on it,” he growls, the dirty, dark promise making me push back into him. Fuck, I love Asher’s dirty side, and he seems intent on making me come apart today.
“Promise?” I taunt, tilting my head to give him better access as he licks and nips my neck, sending shivers through me and making my clit pulse.
Anyone could walk in, could see us, even those driving past. I don’t give a fuck, let them get a free show. In fact, knowing they will see my stepbrother fucking me only makes me wetter. His tongue swipes teasingly down the shell of my ear.
“I promise, my love, you’ll be dripping and screaming in no time.”
Shit, my pussy clenches at his vow, and I know full well he will follow through. I’ve never fucked one man so talented with his cock, hands, and mouth before, never mind one so intent on my pleasure. In fact, making me come only seems to make him harder—it’s the same with all three of them. I got so bloody lucky. Three men begging to make me come?
