I’ve told Ashton he doesn’t need to send Hugh to pick me up after school; I enjoy the walk. But I’m not expecting the sudden squall that blows in on my way home. By the time I get to the apartment, I’m drenched to the skin.

Ashton’s already home when I go in. “What are you doing here?” I ask.

He hesitates, then says, “I wasn’t getting any work done anyway. But never mind that; hurry up and get changed, before you get sick.”

I look down. “I’m dripping all over the carpet. I’ll go change in the laundry room.”

Of course, once I peel my sodden clothes off, there’s nothing to put on. I dig through the laundry basket and find one of Ashton’s shirts. It smells like him, and I pull it on, wrapping him around me.

His scent seems to seep into my pores, into my very being. My eyes close, and without any conscious volition, I start to touch myself. One hand cups my breast through the shirt, the thumb rubbing my nipple, while the other hand parts my folds and strokes my clit.

I don’t know how long I’ve been standing there when I sense a presence. My eyes open to see Ashton in the doorway, staring at me. Heat rushes to my cheeks, but I don’t stop. It’s as if someone I don’t even know has taken over my body.

He doesn’t say anything, just watches me. After a few seconds, his hand closes over his pants, and he starts to rub himself through his clothing. My breath catches at the outline of his cock – it seems so big.

We stare at each other, our hands working, neither of us moving closer to the other. I can’t believe I’m doing this – part of me is shocked. Mostly, though, I’m getting more and more turned on by him watching me.

Finally, I come, with a gasping moan that rends the stillness. Ashton blinks, as if he’s waking from a dream. Then he turns and walks away.

After a moment, I follow him, still in his shirt, to find dinner on the table. He sits down and starts to serve the food as if nothing happened. I sit down too – I’m not hungry, but I’m incapable of being away from him right now.

I have to force myself to eat. Ashton is trying to pretend that everything is normal, but his eyes keep wandering to my chest, where my nipples are poking against his shirt. Every time, he forces his gaze away, but it always comes back.

It seems to take forever for us to eat, but at last we’re done. When Ashton clears his plate and starts to leave, I can’t take it anymore.

“Ashton.” He freezes, but doesn’t say anything. Slowly, as if I were approaching a wild animal, I go up to him.

When I put a hand on his arm, a muscle jumps in his jaw. “I know we shouldn’t,” I whisper. “But I want you. We have almost two weeks; isn’t that enough?”

Part of me knows better, that it will never be enough. I’m ready for both of us to believe the lie if it will end this torment.

He looks down at me, his eyes dark. “You won’t be able to control me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I might be rough,” he goes on, as if I haven’t spoken.

“I don’t care.”

Angry color stains his cheeks; he’s almost trembling, he’s wrestling so hard with himself. “Will you care if I turn you over my knee and spank you?”

I suck in a breath. Heat shoots from my nipples to my clit. “I want you to.”

“Last chance, Tori.”

I squeeze his arm. “Please, Ashton. Take me.”

The next instant, I’m draped over his shoulder, my head hanging down his back as he strides through the apartment. My heart is racing like a rabbit’s; it’s thrilling to feel his strength, his power.

I’ve never been in his bedroom. When he sets me down, I see that it’s dominated by an enormous bed. I don’t have time for more before he sits on the edge of it and tugs me down across his lap.

I’m too turned on to be scared. His hand moves the shirt, baring my ass, then comes down. A flash of pain rockets through me, quickly turning to a tingling heat that radiates through my pussy.

He rubs my stinging flesh, then spanks me again, and again, his hand soothing me in between each blow. The only shock is how much I like it, how wet it’s making me.

I lose track of how many times he spanks me – fifteen? twenty? – before he stops. When his hand moves between my legs and finds my slippery folds, I moan.

“Fuck, Tori,” he says. “You’re so wet for me.” He pushes a finger inside me. “So tight.”

“Ashton,” I groan.

“You want my cock in you?” He pumps his finger in and out, my inner walls gripping him.

“Yes.”

He adds another finger, stretching me. “I’m gonna fuck you hard, honey.”

I shudder. “Yes, please.”

“Fuck. You’re amazing.” Pulling his hand free, he shifts me so I’m lying on my back in the center of the bed. His nimble fingers unbutton the shirt I’m still wearing, and then his hands and his mouth are everywhere.

He licks and strokes and nibbles and squeezes every inch of me, lingering whenever I respond. His mouth takes each breast in turn, sucking the nipples until I’m frantic, then grazing the aching tips with his teeth. My neck, my earlobes, my collarbone, my belly, my legs … nothing escapes his attention.

His beard scrapes my inner thighs, then he sucks the tiny hurts. “Your cunt is so beautiful,” he says, staring down at it. “So pink and glistening. I’m going to drink all your cream.”

I writhe under his gaze. “Ash, baby.”

He’s as good as his word, eating me out like I’m an unbelievable delicacy, while his fingers pump slowly in and out of me, curling against some super-sensitive spot deep inside. When I come with a cry, arching against him, it’s the first time in my life I’ve had an orgasm that I didn’t give myself.

Finally, he rolls off the bed and strips. I watch eagerly, propped up on my elbows, as his body is revealed. The smooth play of muscle in his biceps, his chest, his abs, is delightful. I can’t wait to kiss him and touch him everywhere like he did me.

When he shoves down his slacks and boxer briefs, I stare unabashedly at his cock, jutting proudly out from its nest of hair. I’m pretty sure it’s going to hurt like hell when he puts it in me, and I don’t even care. I hold out my arms, and he vaults onto the bed.

“Are you on the pill?”

“Yes.” Even though I haven’t had any relationships, it seemed best to be prepared.

“I’ve been tested. We’re good there.” His eyes, hot and dark, roam my face. “I don’t want anything between us.”

I nod, and he kisses me fiercely. “I told you I was going to fuck you hard; I meant it. I don’t think I can be gentle with you.”

“It’s all right.”

He kisses me again, until my lips are swollen, then kneels between my thighs. Taking his cock in hand, he rubs the tip through my slick folds, up to brush my clit, down to nudge at my opening, then back again, over and over until my hips start to move, begging him for more.

His hands grip my hips and he pulls me up onto his thighs, draping my legs over his arms. Seating himself at my entrance, he starts to work himself inside me.