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“No.” She lifts her chin despite the tears gathered there. “You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”
This goddamn woman.
I release myself from her hold, or more like force her to let me go and storm to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water.
My first choice would be whiskey, but bringing that out in front of a closet alcoholic is no different than handing a gun to a fool.
Aspen follows me and unapologetically steps between me and the counter, forcing me to look at her.
At those damn eyes that haunted me for the longest time.
“You can run, but you can’t hide from me, King.”
My dick jumps in my pants at the way she calls me that. Fuck the asshole and how easily he gets turned on by her.
“You’re surprisingly clingy,” I say with an unveiled jab.
“And yet, you’re still interested.”
“Maybe I changed my mind.”
“Maybe you’re a liar.”
Wildfire covers her features as she gingerly gets on her knees with the elegance of an angel.
An angel that I’m transforming into my custom-made devil.
All my plans and thoughts leave the building when she unbuckles my pants and pulls out my cock. The traitor who obviously likes her more than me jumps to his full glory in her hold.
“See?” She gives me a sly smile as she jerks me off slowly. “Your dick thinks you’re a liar, too.”
“He’s physical. His opinion doesn’t matter.”
Her other hand strokes my balls as her small mouth wraps around the crown, sucking the precum.
“Fuck, sweetheart. Your lips were made for me. Now, be a good girl, open that mouth and suck me like a good little whore.”
She takes me—or as much as she can fit of me—all the way inside and sucks with the determination of a succubus.
Jesus fucking Christ.
This woman will make me come like a teenager on his first masturbation session.
My fingers sink into her hair and I wrap it around my fist. Aspen escalates her performance, head bobbing up and down with one need—making me come.
I can see that determination in her bright eyes, the challenge, and even the need to please me.
Not in this life would I have thought that I’d have Aspen in this position. Not only is she prideful, but she hates showing any form of vulnerability.
But she’s on her knees for me.
A sense of possessiveness rushes through my bones at the thought.
Aspen might be a wild horse, but she’smywild horse.
Using my grip on her hair, I thrust inside, hitting the back of her throat. She stills, her face reddening, and I expect her to fight me, and push me away, even.
But something happens.
