Twenty-Three
Asher
He filled me.
Not just with him being inside me, so tight and full, but with everything.
When I was with Porter, everything clicked. It all made sense.
I had been terrified of this very step with him. I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to give him pleasure, or that I wouldn’t be able to perform correctly. Even if I couldn’t find a second orgasm with him inside me, this was already the best sexual experience in my life.
No, I didn’t have many—at least, not positive ones—but I knew that I could start to feel put together again when in his arms.
I may still be missing a few pieces, but I was as close to together as I imagined I could be.
His lips were playing over my shoulder as he waited for me. Every now and then, I felt a scrape of his teeth, but otherwise his lips stayed light and teasing on my skin.
When I rolled my hips, his mouth stopped moving, and I could feel the rush of air leaving his mouth as he groaned.
“You’re—”
“I’m sure,” I interrupted. I rolled my hips again, at once thrilled with the feel of him in me.
This was Porter.
This was Porter and me.
This was us.
I felt whole.
Unbroken.
Wanted.
God, Porter made me feel so wanted.
With his hands as guides, I ground my hips over him. This dance was slow, and when he moved into kiss me again, the dance of our tongues was equally languid. Push, glide, slide. My hands in his hair, his on my hips. Slow, yet sure.
Right.
And to my absolute pleasure, I could feel as my body started its rise again, the friction of his thick shaft against my swollen walls bringing me excitement.
I was so full of him. Not only there, but in my head and heart.
Before, I learned that sex was about power. Control.
Now though, I learned that it could be equal. I pulled my lips from his so I could watch his face.
The tightness in his face, the pleasure in his eyes, they all mirrored mine.
We were on a level playing field.
I didn’t know a damn thing about love, but…
I was pretty sure I loved him.
Porter
Her body fit me like a glove and this glide she was doing was bringing me to heights I hadn’t experienced before. I was on the edge, but I would be fucking damned if she didn’t come around my cock.
She was almost there. I could feel it.
I kept my hands on her hips gentle, my fingers sometimes digging into her when she angled them just the right way.
Her chest was flushed and the color rose to her cheeks. Her temples were damp with sweat, hair clinging to her neck and her shoulder. Now she was watching me with the most open expression on her face.
“You’re beautiful,” I told her honestly, my breathing labored around the words. Her breath hitched and when she clenched down around me, I had to squeeze my eyes shut, groaning into the room. “God, don’t do that. I’m so fucking close, Ash.”
She didn’t say anything but her eyes brightened. When she dropped her hand down so she could finger the bar in my nipple, my hips jerked under her. “You’re such a brat.”
I felt the breath of her laugh as she brought her mouth to my ear, but rather than nibbling like some girls would do, she just nuzzled her nose into my face. Still though, her fingers played with that damn bar, sending currents of energy through me.
I wasn’t going to fucking last at this rate.
I could only handle so much, and the slow grind was borderline painful with how much pleasure she was giving me. I was at the point where I needed fast, sure strokes, but I had to get Asher there first. I had to get her off, and then I’d rearrange her legs so she could bounce on me.
Yeah. Good plan.
I let go of her hips, sliding one hand up her spine to rest between her shoulder blades but brought my other in front, my thumb going straight to the nerve bundle that was sure to get her there.
One brush over the swollen bud and her body jerked. She pressed her face into mine and her palm flattened over my pec. “Turnabout’s fair play, Ash,” I murmured, turning my face into hers.
Her grinding stopped and I slowly brushed a circle over her clit again. I felt her thighs clench around my hips. “You’re almost there, aren’t you, beautiful?”
She bit her lip and, pulling her face back with a challenge in her eyes, slowly rolled her hips over me again.
“You’re such a minx,” I said around a grunt. She wanted to play that way?
I could play that way too.
I moved the angle of my thumb so I hit the very top of her clit, where I knew, from months of playing, was her true pleasure button. I gently raked the tip of my finger back over it, and sure as the sky was blue…
Asher’s breath hitched three times before her body completely tightened over me. No words left her mouth, but her eyes closed and her jaw dropped.
But if I thought I was going to be able to get through this and get mine after her body calmed, I was sorely mistaken. Because three tight squeezes of her walls around me, and I was a fucking goner.
“Shit!” I bit out, my hips flexing up into Asher’s warm heat. I braced a hand behind me, holding my body up as I gave final, sharp thrusts. I couldn’t stop coming, my cum pulsing out of me in strong, sure spurts. I held her tight, my hand between her shoulders, keeping her close.
Asher’s body trembled against mine. I could feel as each one wracked through her. Not wanting to lose the connection just yet, I tapped her thigh until she unhooked her feet from behind me, laying us back so she was on top of me. The movement had my cock twitching inside her again but shit, I was tired.
I wrapped both my arms around her, holding her tight, and moved my lips to her ear. “You good?”
She nodded, her head still down. I realized that I hadn’t heard a true word from her, not once had her husky, sexy voice broken into the room. I released her back so I could take her face in my hands, lifting her so I could get her eyes.
They were still clear. Her pupils were dilated and her face still flushed, but she didn’t look to be in the throes of anxiety or fear.
“Talk to me, Ash,” I said quietly.
“Thank you.”
I frowned. Not what I was expecting. “For?”
She just gave me her small smile and the slightest shakes of her head. “Just, thank you.”
***
I had Asher pull on one of my shirts before I got rid of the condom, leaving for the bathroom to clean up and to grab a washcloth for her. It was a damn good thing I pulled on lounge pants, too, because no sooner than I eased my bedroom door shut behind me, I could hear the television on in the living room.
I went into the bathroom to do my business, hoping I could get back to my room without Nico noticing, but the damn guy had his head looking over the back of the couch, waiting for me.
His grin was fucking wide and he opened his mouth to say something, but I pointed at him. “Don’t. Just don’t.”
“I was just going to say, my baby boy’s all grown up,” the asshole laughed. “And damn, are you a loud fucker. I may have to find a new place to stay whenever Asher’s in town.”
I checked my bedroom door to be sure it hadn’t cracked open. “Don’t say anything to her.”
He shook his head, still grinning, but turned back to the television. “I wouldn’t say anything to her. You though, brother, are fair game.”
“Whatever.” I turned back toward my room, but I couldn’t stop the grin on my own face. Everything with Asher felt right, and if I had to live through some good-natured ribbing from my roommate, I was cool with it.
“Asher coming to practice in the morning?” he called out.
“We hadn’t talked about it yet.”
Just before I pushed into my room though, the damn asshole added, “Keep it down, you animal.”
I squeezed the bridge of my nose and stepped into my room, closing the door behind me with a click, and then locking it. I glanced over at my bed and saw Asher sitting in her corner, cross-legged with my shirt draped over her, and while her face was red with embarrassment, she didn’t look put out in the least.
“Sorry,” I mumbled and she shook her head.
“It’s okay. I like Nico,” she added. “He’s fun. He reminds me of how Caleb and Jonny tease you.”
“It’s that damned big brother mentality.” I walked over to the bed and crawled over to her. When she put her hand to the back of my head, I leaned in to kiss her.
“Still good?” I asked against her lips.
“Fantastic,” she whispered back.
I kissed her once more before moving back the sheets and duvet, holding them up for her to slide under. I followed suit, pulling her close to my side.
“Tomorrow, I have an optional morning skate,” I told her. The room was still light enough to see, but the sun was sinking and it wouldn’t be long until the room was completely dark.
“Which you’re going to.”
“I don’t have to.”
She rubbed her hand familiarly over my stomach. “You’re going to go.”
“Alright. So, I have a morning skate that I’m going to. And then it’s a seven-o’clock game.”
“I brought my camera,” she said. “I can go out and shoot pictures while you nap.” She remembered the routine.
The few times she was here last season during a game day, I either didn’t nap and played like shit, or she watched a movie in the other room. It didn’t surprise me that she came with an idea in mind for those three hours of the day.
But it was a new season.
I was a new player.
And I had this amazing girl.
“Nah, I think I want you here.”
“It’s three hours of your day, Porter.”
“Yeah, and I want you here.”
She shook her head good-naturedly but didn’t further argue the point, as I continued, “Depending on the outcome, the guys will probably want to go out after.”
“You’re still not twenty-one, Porter,” she laughed.
“Sometimes we go to Ant’s house.” But with it being a Thursday, his kids would probably be in bed after the game and Marie didn’t take too kindly to them being woken up at ten at night.
“Speaking of my not being twenty-one,” I added. “Someone has a birthday soon.”
“Perhaps.” She turned her face into my side and I could feel as she smiled against me.
“Should we do breakfast on Saturday?” I knew damn well when we figured out this long weekend, that her birthday fell on it.
“Don’t you have a game Saturday? You’ll have morning skate.”
“It’s your birthday, Ash. It’s optional, and I’ll be skipping that one.” I felt her start to protest, but quickly added, “I won’t skip tomorrow. But I am skipping Saturday.”
“Fine.” She didn’t sound pleased but I wasn’t bending on that one. “We’ll do breakfast. Same place?”
I nodded, rubbing her shoulder. “Make it a tradition.”
She needed those in her life, and I was more than willing to give them to her.
“So, you’re going to feed me Saturday, but what about tonight?”
I grinned wide. She was such a smartass. “I suppose I could feed you tonight yet. I’m just really damn comfortable right now.”
“Maybe in a few minutes, then.”
***
I was beginning to get her number. Any time we would settle in for a movie, her ‘few minutes’ turned into her fully relaxed at my side, her lips slightly parted. Asher fell asleep against me quickly, likely worn out from both traveling and our playing. I’d give her a few minutes, but I still had to feed her. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let her go to bed hungry?
I grinned to myself at the label.
I’d been against labels in high school, but it felt right when Mo and I took that step. That was the first, and only other, time I was good wearing the label.
And if it had felt right then?
Right now, it felt as if the universe was on its correct axis. ‘Right’ didn’t even begin to define how I felt.
Careful to not disturb Asher, I reached over for my phone, flipping on the camera and turning it to forward-facing. I reached above, and took the picture of Asher lying against me, my chest bare, with her hand over my heart, but realized her face was completely visible.
I took this picture for myself, but then carefully moved her hair so her face was partially hidden. This one was being posted. I knew from the WAGs picture incident that Ash wasn’t too keen on the idea of her face being plastered all over the internet. She didn’t tell me as much, but I had a feeling it had a lot to do with why she changed her name. And while I was posting this on my private Instagram, an account that only my family and close friends had access to, pictures were stolen often.
I snapped the new picture and applied a grungy black and white filter, before adding the description, “Right. #mine #offthemarket.”
My sisters would have a field day.
Shit, the moment Ace saw it, she’d probably be blowing up Asher’s phone.
Everyone knew Asher and I were together, but this was one of those public declarations that put any questions to rest.
Asher was mine.
And I was pretty sure she always would be.
Before turning off my phone, I ventured onto the book of faces. Facebook could be such a timewarp, but I had to check to be sure my Instagram post didn’t post to my Facebook account. If any of my sisters friended just one wrong person, anything I posted could be floating around the WAGs site.
It did post—I was terrible at deselecting the option before posting—so I quickly deleted it. Then I mindlessly scrolled through my newsfeed, stopping at memes. Before I closed out of the app though, an older picture of Mo filled the timeline, posted by Alex, a girl Mo and I had been friends with in high school.
I frowned but scrolled past it to read the caption. I can’t believe it’s been ten months, Mo. #rip
Huh? I could feel the confused look on my face as I tried to do investigating. I clicked into the search bar, pulling up Mo’s profile. Her timeline was filled with messages of people saying they missed her, that life wasn’t nearly as bright without her.
I kept scrolling through the posts, stopping when I reached a post from her, dated back in January. It was just a post saying how she loved everyone at home, and that she was going to miss them when she went back to school the next week.
The next post on her wall was from one of her cheerleading friends.
I can’t believe you’re gone.
What the hell happened? I was so fucking out of the loop.
A few posts later, someone posted a news article. I clicked into it and came face-to-face with a picture of Mo’s car wrapped around a tree. My brows rose, shocked.
I read through the article—she hit black ice on a curve. The roads near our houses weren’t always the safest dry, let alone in the winter.
How the hell hadn’t I heard this? Why didn’t my parents tell me?
She and I may have had a falling out, but she had still been my friend for years. How the hell did I not know that she died?
How the hell did I find out on Facebook—ten months later?
My chest ached at the thought that the last time I talked to her, she left upset. I looked down at Asher beside me.
If I hadn’t have met Asher, would I have let Mo stay that weekend?
If she had stayed, would we have started something up again?
Would she have died?
I knew that ‘what ifs’ were pointless. Besides, I felt with every fiber of my being that this was where I was supposed to be.
But it didn’t help with the fact that a girl who was once my best friend, who was my only other serious girlfriend, fucking died and I didn’t know about it.
I swallowed past the lump of disappointment in my throat before opening up my photo gallery to look at the first picture I took with Asher just now.
Right.
This was right.
I turned off my phone—I didn’t want any interruptions from well-meaning family members tonight when they saw the second picture—and put it on the nightstand before pulling Asher close again. She sighed in her sleep and I pressed my lips to her forehead.
“Asher,” I murmured against her skin. She needed to wake up because I needed to feed her, but also because I needed her to ground me.
She didn’t stir.
I pressed kisses down her temple, over her cheek, down her jawline. I readjusted myself beside her, allowing her to roll to her back, as I moved my kisses down the side of her neck, nibbling along her collarbone.
Above me, she made a small mewling noise. I moved my lips to her other side, sucking along her collarbone there as I brought my other hand to the lower hem of the shirt she wore. I dragged my fingers up her outside thigh slowly and whispered against her skin between kisses, “Wake up, sweetheart.”
And she did.
With a gasp.
And then her hands were slapping at me, and I wasn’t sure what the hell was happening. I sat up quickly, my hands out and in the air. “Ash! It’s me. It’s just fucking me.”
She scrambled to sit in the corner—it was a damn defense mechanism and fuck, I hated it—her knees drawn up and her arms hugging them tight. If it weren’t for the panic all over her face, I would likely question every damn moment we had spent together over the last year.
I still had fucking questions though.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. She was visibly shaking, but I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. She obviously didn’t want my hands on her. “I’m clau—”
“-strophobic, yeah. I know,” I bit out, my words angrier than I intended them to be, the last ten minutes of my life all heading into the tone of my words. “That’s not fucking claustrophobia, Asher.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and I felt like ten times the biggest heel on the history of earth. “Fuck, Asher.” I rubbed the palm of my hand into my eye socket. “I can’t play this game without all the rules.” I started reaching toward her but took my hand back at the last moment.
I still didn’t know if she wanted my hands on her. She was so closed off right now.
Did I leave? Stay?
Offer to hold her?
Keep quiet?
I had no fucking clue and every time something like this happened, it was a quick punch back to reality—
As much as I thought I knew her, I really didn’t know shit.
I needed a moment.
No sooner than I stood up though, Asher was on her knees, reaching for me. “Don’t go. Please don’t leave.” Her hand found mine and she tugged on my arm.
“I don’t know what to do for you,” I admitted quietly, still standing beside the bed. “We start moving somewhere, Ash, and then…” I shook my head. “I just need a minute. I’ll be back.” I squeezed her hand. “I promise.”
Her hand dropped to the bed, freeing me, but before I could open the door and leave the room, I learned just what kind of chokehold this girl had on me, because her whispered words knocked the fucking life out of me.
“I was raped.”