Chapter 21
Asher
I ring the bell.
No answer.
I knock on her door.
No answer.
I try her cell phone again.
No goddamn answer.
I could turn around and go back to my apartment, forgetting that everything I want and more importantly, need and crave down to the marrow filling my bones is right behind this two-and-a-half-inch piece of locked wood, to which I have the key.
I could turn and walk away, waiting for her to come to me.
I could do a lot of things besides what I’m about to do.
But fuck that.
My entire future is contained within the four walls standing before me. I won’t let it slip away without a fight.
I slide the extra key I have for our executive apartment from my pocket, glide it in the lock, and open the door to complete silence and near total darkness.
The only light in the entire apartment comes from the hot flames being thrown by the gas fireplace, which appears to be going at full blast. My relief is palpable. Alyse must still be here. Certainly she wouldn’t have left town with a raging fire going.
Looking for her, I take a quick sweep of the room, which is relatively small, but about average size for a downtown high-rise apartment in Chicago. The main area is an open floor plan with the kitchen to the right and the main living area straight in from the front door. Through the main room to the left is a short hallway that has a common bathroom, a master bedroom at the end with an en suite bath, and another small bedroom. We have the entire apartment decorated warmly with neutral colors and high-end furniture.
The whole space is not much more than twelve hundred square feet. It rarely gets used. When it does, it’s sufficient enough for a short stay until our executives find permanent housing. That’s one of the reasons I suggested it to Alyse, but the real reason was I wanted her just steps away from me at all times.
Not seeing her in either the kitchen or living room, I deduce she must be in bed, even though it’s relatively early at only ten o’clock. I quietly close the door and have taken only three steps before I freeze.
My cock is instantly so hard I could jackhammer concrete.
Lying on the plush white area rug in front of the raging fireplace is Alyse. Even though it’s a chilly twenty-two degrees outside, the heat from the fireplace has quickly warmed this small space. Alyse has taken full advantage of it.
She’s wearing an almost sheer white tank and black lacy panties that look like little boy shorts from the side, but you know once you get a glimpse of them from the back, they will be those cheeky kind that frame a woman’s heart-shaped ass to perfection. Goddamn genius invention, those.
Her attire alone is a man’s walking wet dream and is sexier than almost any lingerie I’ve ever seen, but it’s what she’s doing that has me nearly whipping out my dick right here, right now, and following her lead.
From my angle, I can’t see her face because the loveseat is in the way. I can only see her body. And sweet baby Jesus, I’ve never seen anything as hot as what I’m currently witnessing.
Fuck.
Me.
This moment will be singed into my corneas for the rest of my days.
She has her top pulled up on one side, palming a breast, tweaking her nipple. The other mound is still covered by the thin white cloth, but because of the firelight, I can see the outline of her dark areola, and I can definitely see her pebbled nub trying to poke through.
But the thing that has my rapt attention is the fact that she has her panties pushed aside while she fucks herself with a vibrator. And not just any vibrator. It’s the kind that massages the clit at the same time. I’m not sure I’ve ever been this jealous of an inanimate object in my entire life.
As she works herself into a frenzy, her breathy moans mix with the low noise of the fireplace fan. After only three weeks, I know Alyse’s body intimately. We are in tune like we’ve been together our entire lives.
I know the exact spot on her neck that will convince her to acquiesce to my every sinful desire.
I know exactly how hard to suck her nipples, delivering just the right amount of pain to mix exquisitely with the pleasure I’m lavishing on other body parts.
I know the precise amount of pressure she needs on her clit to unravel and come repeatedly all over my fingers, my tongue, or my cock.
And I can tell when she’s getting close to climax by the flush on her skin, the change in her breathing, and the little hitch in the back of her throat. By her current level of breathlessness, I’d say she’s getting pretty damn close to flying.
I unconsciously reach down to stroke my pulsing cock through my jeans. I think it’s highly possible I could embarrass myself and come in about five pulls. I’m not at all sure I even care.
I want to move and watch her face as she falls headfirst into what I can tell will be one intense orgasm, but I don’t want her to stop. She obviously doesn’t know I’m here and I don’t want her to. I need to watch her through completion.
Once I hear low curses, I have to force my hand down to my side or I won’t be able to stop myself from coming with her. And when she finally falls over that elusive ledge, crying my name, I can’t help but move a few steps to the right, embracing the voyeur in me.
My favorite part of making love with Alyse is watching her face when she comes. Her pleasure becomes my own, especially when it’s me forcing her body to places I know she hasn’t been before.
When I finally get a glimpse of her pleasure-laden face, I suck in a breath. Christ almighty, she is absolutely magnificent. I have never seen a single thing more beautiful than Alyse in the throes of orgasm. I want nothing more than to bury my face between her legs and lap up every drop of her release. It belongs to me. I crave it on some primal level that I can’t even explain.
I shamelessly watch her come down. Her body slowly stops shuddering and she works to control her breaths as she withdraws her little pleasure wand, now coated with her juices, and drops it with a heavy thud to the floor.
Alyse’s eyes are tightly closed, but if she opens them at all, she’ll see me blatantly staring at her, ravenous hunger etched over every inch of me. It’s taking all my willpower to not scoop her into my arms and fuck her against the closest object.
Chancing it anyway, I move quietly forward and take a seat on the couch, letting my legs fall open. I have to carefully adjust my cock. He’s throbbing and on edge. One wrong move and he’ll erupt. The need to palm myself is powerful, but I won’t. The need to just sit here and drink in the sight of the woman who has become my entire world wins out over releasing the agony that’s drawn my balls tight.
I savor each second, because I fear once she realizes I’m here, she’ll kick my ass out.
So I sit.
I watch.
I wait.
And about fifteen seconds later, my visual worshipping is shattered when she opens her eyes.