CHAPTER 25

 

 

Two Years Ago—The Night Before An Exam He Aced

 

Charis: What is the most egotistical thing you've ever said?

Asher: What are you talking about? I'm never egotistical.

Charis: Oh. My. God.

Asher: Seriously. I'm not.

Charis: Asher, m'lad, you are the very definition of the spoiled youngest sibling. Everybody fawns over you. Everybody loves you. You get treated like a minor god. Do not even pretend you don't act like one.

Asher: What does that have to do with anything?

Charis: Everyone's always telling you how amazing you are.

Asher: So?

Charis: So…if I asked you how good you are at swimming, what you would say?

Asher: I own the pool, Sloane. You know that.

Charis: And if I asked you how good you are at running, you'd say…

Asher: I hold two track records. What exactly is your point?

Charis: All right, all right. Let me rephrase the question. What are you best at?

Asher: That's a tough one.

Charis: I rest my case.

Asher: Hey, I'm crappy at yoga.

Charis: You've never done yoga.

Asher: Which is why.

 

Charis

 

BE FUCKED LIKE YOU'VE never been fucked before.

Okay, this was seriously unreal.

This man, this familiar and formerly inaccessible man, was kneeling between my legs, connected to me in a strange, intimate, grown-up way, looking at me like I was a feast he'd been anticipating all his life…

How had this happened again?

I felt high. Well, I've never actually been high. I smoked weed one memorable time, but I've never done any of the hard stuff. The idea of getting high loses something when your parents do it regularly. But like I imagine it must be.

He was grinning, a cocky, just-wait-I-have-a-big-surprise-for-you grin. I felt like a little girl who'd been promised the most giant swirly lollipop in the candy store.

He was my best friend, possibly the person who cared about me most in the world.

And he was the man who wanted to fuck me hard. That was obvious.

Yet the kisses he kept brushing over my neck and jaw were so sweet and warm. His firm lips, softening on my skin, slightly moist, slightly cool…the little licks of his tongue…his little savoring "mmm" sounds…it all made me feel teased and adored.

And inside, I was hurting, good and bad. Mostly good. The ouch factor was still there, but his shaft was doing this powerful pulsing thing I liked.

Did I mention that size-wise, he's a bit much?

I've spent more than my fair share of time sneaking peeks at Asher's body. It's one of my bad habits. That and picturing him in all manner of swimsuits—or without all manner of swimsuits—while finding relief for myself in bed. So bad, I know. Why couldn't I picture Colton Haynes or Alex Pettyfer like a normal human being? Or better yet, why couldn't I find another man to get busy with?

I've tried. But my heart isn't in it, and I have to admit to turning away a few dudes I might have been attracted to in another life.

I had an ideal in my mind, and that ideal matched Asher.

What I could see of him.

Unfortunately, I'm not what you'd call an expert on male anatomy. There are lots of places I can look at dick pics, but can I just say…ew? And videos…porn just makes me curious as to what's really going on while they're waving their various penile objects about.

So whenever I envisioned Asher naked, I only had this vague idea of what the reality was underneath his clothing.

I'd touched him the other day, but you see I'd been in a kind of shock and not all in attendance. I knew he was big, but I hadn't caught the whole panorama, if you catch my drift.

Just now when he'd stripped, I saw. I saw beyond his drool-worthy proportions to the whole man.

Asher Norrell has always been large for his age. As a thirteen-year-old boy he was already man-size, his voice already deepened. Over the years he's gained breadth and definition and body hair and confidence.

Now there was no remnant of the kid about him. His smile was boyish, but that's it.

The man I knew now was bossy, confident, sharp, and even wise.

I hissed in a breath in revelation.

In a confusing way, he was more man than I was woman.

When had he grown up on me?

Oh, and his erection was actually beautiful.

I say "actually" because even in person, I didn't usually find guys' junk that fun to look at. My one boyfriend had been okay, I supposed, but his embarrassment about his own body had been a serious turnoff.

The only other live penis I'd seen was, get this, in a laundromat in the village, where a strange fellow in Bermuda shorts flashed me. I'm sure it was unintentional—at least I hope so. I winced for days afterward remembering the way he'd lifted his leg onto the chair and…yeah. Let's move on.

Asher is not winceworthy. It isn't about perfection, funnily enough. He has flaws. Years ago playing some sport he'd managed to bang up his hands, and they're pretty rough looking, some of the knuckles too big and his fingernails scarred.

And…let's see what else. He has tan lines at his waist. He must have moles, scars, and unsightly hairs somewhere.

Yet he knows he's hot. His confidence alone is an awful turn-on.

Looking at him now, I personally thought his body was better than some of the male dancers Mom used to perform with.

Which was all very shallow and I shouldn't care.

But I did, especially now it was obvious that huge erection was for me.

So I'd blurted out that line about wanting to eat him. Stuff I would have bitten my tongue on before this.

This whole day had felt reckless like that. He was sweeping me up into something before I was sure I was ready.

And my bad, but I wanted him to.

His last, penetrating thrust had burned. And now the burning was, well, not gone, but overlaid with this shimmering delight.

It was all new to me.

All I'd had before was sex with Reggie. Ironically, I'd thought my boyfriend was adventurous. Over the years, we'd done it practically every way ever invented. Ever done it doggie style in a bathtub? No? Well, you're clearly missing out. Ever been licked all over? Check. Who's shaved a man's bush? I have.

All that sounds way better than it was.

We'd had sex weekly like clockwork. Reggie's interest was less about attraction to me and more of a clinical thing. Literally clinical—he was getting his PhD in psychiatry with a specialty in human sexuality.

Each week we'd use a different sexual position, try something different. Every session lasted exactly one hour. (Yes, "session" is his term.)

At first I found it intriguing. Then I found it weird. Then I went along with it because I'd concluded he was doing it as experimental research and it seemed bad sportsmanship not to participate.

You wouldn't think kinky stuff like anal and bondage could be boring, but yep, we managed it. Amidst all our games I managed to achieve the occasional mediocre orgasm, and each time he'd roll away and start making notes.

I found our sessions funny more than anything, but he didn't. So after each session I tried to keep a straight face and answer his questions candidly. I mean, I didn't begrudge him his area of interest.

But did I ever crave him…get turned on by his dirty mouth…fantasize about him…anticipate ecstasy…yearn for his weight…feel taken care of? Not even close.

All of that happened with Asher.

Asher Norrell, who teased me, debated with me, treated me more like a dude than a girl when we hung out. The cheeky man who was now nipping my skin and twitching his hips in those tiny, rapturous penetrations.

It was just surreal.

"That's quite a display of ego," I gasped out.

"It's not ego if it's fact," he said, and then he moved his hips in a smooth circle, and oh. Fucking. Yes.

Suddenly I couldn't process a single critical thought. He could brag all he wanted if he just kept moving the way he was moving.

His sparkling eyes said he knew what I was thinking.

"I like how your blushes start in your chest," he murmured, and immediately my nipples tightened. His member withdrew almost all the way, making a sucking sound, and eased forward in a thrust so deep I moaned.

It happened again.

And again.

I heard a woman cry out.

That would be me.

More rotations.

Another thrust. Faster.

Oh, God.

"That's the way, Char."

His voice hardly penetrated, and when it did I didn't know what he was talking about. I didn't know much of anything.

My brain made a valiant effort to capture a mental picture of what he did in my mind, to understand it on a technical level. All I got was that he moved, that he used his whole body, that I was stimulated everywhere, that he seemed to know what I was feeling before I did.

Everything was…great.

Like, if I believed in a heaven on earth, this would be that place.

In Asher's arms as he made love to me.

It was wild. Frenetic.

Other-worldly. A virtual reality come true.

I don't want to give the impression he was the only participant here. I did stuff, too. It was just, nothing felt deliberate.

I've always been fascinated by the concept of free will. How much of an act is your intention and how much of it is just you along for the ride?

Right now, I can say with total certainty that nothing I did was intentional. I embraced him, I fondled him wherever I could reach, I moved as vigorously as he did, but the amount of it I did with conscious thought?

None.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he huffed in my ear.

I blinked, abruptly aware we'd somehow relocated to the head of the bed and one of my legs was hanging off, and I'd banged my shin on his night stand.

"Ouch," I muttered, but to be honest the pain hardly registered.

"I'll make it better," he promised. He rolled us to safety without separating us, and even that felt amazing. His hands on my ass were huge and strong. We ended up in the middle of the bed with him on top again.

"You want another one?" he asked, while I thought, I love him on top. Reggie had wanted me on top a lot, and it had started to seem a helluva lot like work.

"Another what?" I slurred idiotically.

"Orgasm, sweetness."

Oh.

Yeah.

I'd been having those. One after another, delicious, incredible spasms, without even straining or trying.

Did I mention everything felt so good?

"I'll be straight with you," I managed. "I have no idea."

His laughter sent marvelous shivers through me. "God, you're sweet to fuck. So sweet, Char."

His tender words intensified everything I was feeling. "You are, too. You're wonderful, Asher."

"All grown up?"

My laugh was also a sob. "Yes."

"Good. How sore are you?"

"Zero sore." I felt no soreness. All was bliss.

"Then it's all right if I keep going in your beautiful…wet…pussy?" Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.

"Yes. Yes, oh, yes. Keep. Going. Do whatever you want. To me."

I wiped my sweaty brow and gave a greedy sigh as he started to move again. I never wanted this lovemaking to end.

 

Asher

 

FUCKING CHAR WAS OFFICIALLY the most fun I'd ever had in my life.

I should have known my girl would give her all to this. It was like wrestling with her, only a zillion times better.

I was way off about the inhibitions, by the way.

She threw herself into fucking with a complete lack of restraints. She sweated, heaved, moved like an angel on steroids. Her body twisted with lithe, sexy grace—like she had more than a little of her mother's dancer in her.

It was hard to be gentle. Not just because she was taking an athletic approach here, but the things she did. Like turning her head and using her teeth on my arm. That made me forget how new her pussy was to this kind of workout and pull out all the stops.

No way she wouldn't be sore from this, but I didn't spare her. This was too good. And some of it was ego. I wanted to show her what she'd been missing. That what she'd called a relationship before had been pathetic, that I could give her what she needed. That we'd be incredible together.

What was funny was that I showed myself, too. This connection was what I'd been missing, even with Aura when the sex was volcanic.

My cock took Charis and I knew her.

I kissed Charis and I knew her.

It was some weird kind of time travel, where I was in the moment, and I was also in the past and the future. Being with the girl I'd known and being with the woman she'd become and setting precedent for the days that would be.

Gradually the present won and all there was was the ecstasy of her pussy contracting around me, over and over again.

Coming pussies are a favorite of mine, I may or may not have mentioned.

Finally she slumped back, exhausted. I'd worn her out. Satisfied her utterly.

I slowed, stopped. Lifted up, checking on her. Good, strong breaths, each one making her nipples quiver. Her eyes were shut and her expression was pure happiness.

I bent and licked her mouth and her eyes opened.

And I literally reeled back. Charis…liked me. A fucking lot. I'd never seen such emotion in a woman's eyes.

"Good?" I said tenderly.

"So good," she whispered. "I'm full. No more room." Her hand fluttered up to my cheek and she stroked my stubble down to my chin. "How do I make you feel as fabulous as I'm feeling, dude?"

I grinned, feeling like an emperor. "More praise first. I am the one. The only. Say it."

"You're the one, the only. Totally."

"I need my phone. I have to record this."

She giggled. "Come on, Ash. I want to make you feel good. What can I do?"

"Truth, with my dick in you, everything feels good, Sloane."

"Even your hair follicles?"

"Those especially."

"Good. I…"

Her eyelids drifted shut. Her arm fell to her side and she made happy little murmurs.

I didn't want her to pass out. "Char. Watch me."

On an indrawn breath, she opened her eyes. "Yes."

"You don't need to do anything," I soothed. "Just lie there and watch me fuck you. I want you to see what you do to me."

A shiver rippled through her, and she stared at me as I started to thrust again, slowly at first, keeping my gaze locked to hers. Only this time as the need rose, I didn't hold back. This time I let myself go with a harsh groan. I gripped her hips, bruised them no doubt, and drove into her so deep her body jerked with the impact.

The orgasm that washed over me then was a fucking tidal wave, not surprising after how long I'd held back. It was up there among the best of my life, but that wasn't what blew my mind.

It was how safe I felt. How right this was. How absolutely mine she was.

Fucking about time.