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He lowers his face toward me. “I want to make up for lost time.” And he kisses me, slow and teasing, opening my mouth with the tip of his tongue, invading me.
My whole body quavers. He still smells of the hospital and I should be worried about his wounds and bruises, but like always my thoughts flee when he begins to touch me, his hand sliding down to cup my ass and knead it.
He’s still dressed in his jeans and T-shirt, but I stripped down to my flimsy pajama bottoms and a spaghetti-strap blouse last night. My breasts press against his chest and my nipples tighten. The friction sends frissons down my spine and he moans into the kiss, pressing a very healthy and large erection against my thigh.
Breaking the kiss, he tugs on my blouse, pulling it over my head, leaving my breasts exposed. In a flash, he has me on my back, leaning over me, and his gaze sparkles. His mouth tilts in the most beautiful smile and he bends to suckle on my breasts, taking his time on each one, licking and sucking until I think I’ll explode into a million tiny pieces.
He draws back and pulls off my pajama bottoms and panties, leaving me bare to his scrutiny. He brushes his hands over my legs.
Then he stops. I open my eyes that fell closed at some point and look up at him. He has sat back, his face pale and sweat beading on his forehead.
“Ash?”
He presses a hand to his ribs. “I’m all right. Give me a minute.”
Shit. “You’re not all right. Just... sit down.” I scramble up and push on a solid, muscled shoulder until he relents and leans against the backrest, letting his head drop back.
“Come here,” he says and reaches for me.
Swallowing the knot of worry in my throat, I scoot closer and let him pull me to his side. “You should take it easy. Does it hurt?”
He chuckles low. It’s a nice, deep-throated sound that warms me up from the inside. “What hurts the most is how much I want you.”
He shifts and lets go of his ribs to adjust himself through the pants, drawing my gaze to the still considerable bulge at the front. The sight of it makes me feel so hot I’m about to self-combust.
I want to peel off his clothes, touch his strong body, his straining hardness. But he’s hurt and I shouldn’t. My hand trails down his side to the front of his jeans to cup the hot package there.
A groan leaves his lips and his eyes slit. “Auds...”
“You don’t have to move,” I say, unable to hold back anymore. Only Ash can make me so bold, so desperate to touch him. “Close your eyes.”
A dark brow lifts and he gives me a crooked smile that lifts my heart. “Wanna be in charge?”
“No, I...” I lick my lips. “I want to take care of you. You’re really hot, Asher Devlin, and I want to unwrap you like a Christmas present.”
His expression softens. With a sigh, he leans his head back and closes his eyes, leaving me to unbutton his jeans and pull them down, tugging them off with his underwear and socks.
I climb up beside him on the couch. Under the hem of his T-shirt I see the bandage going around his back, and the bruises. I want to make him feel good. He shivers when I wrap my hand around his cock. His mouth falls open, a breath gusting past his lips when I move my fist up and down, stroking him the way he showed me.
“I want you,” he rasps, his hands clenching at his sides. He grabs my wrist. “Auds, I need... Shit.” He lets go. “Sorry. You don’t have to—”
I bend over and draw the head of his cock into my mouth. I hear him groan as I play with my tongue underneath and then suck on his saltiness. Glancing up, I see his face twist in a grimace that looks so much like pain I have to stop.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Is this hurting you?”
“No.” He hisses when I stroke him again. “No pain.” He reaches for me, wraps an arm around me and drags me gently until I straddle him. His cock juts between us, wet and flushed dark. “Need to be inside you.”
His eyes sear through me, his desire evident. Could this work? I want him inside me, too; want the connection to believe he’s right here with me. Taking a deep breath, I rise on my knees.
“Fuck, I don’t have a condom.” Ash is still holding my hips and his grip is like a vise. His brow creases. “Shit. We can’t.”
“No need.” I put my hands over his. “I’m on the pill.”
Something seems to snap in Ash then, because he lifts me and lowers me on top of his erection in one movement that has to hurt his ribs. He doesn’t seem to notice, his laser-hot gaze on my face, cataloguing every sensation mirrored there as I take him in, inch by inch. It’s an amazing sensation, knowing that he’s inside of me.
When I’m seated in his lap, full of him, he lets out a sharp breath, his teeth gritting. “Shit, Auds, you’re so tight.” He blows out air and visibly tries to hold still. “Are you okay?”
I want him to let go, not to worry about me. To let go and do what feels good for him.
