ASHTON

I ’m the last person that should be discussing what’s right, what’s wrong, and where the boundary is between those two things. Hell, my boundary is probably in a completely different spot compared to where other people would draw the line.

But the moment I put my hands on Rose, I know without a moment’s hesitation that this next hour with her is going to be completely different than any other hour I’ve spent in the secluded darkness of this room before.

The girl is trembling, first of all. And I’m not so callous as to not notice that she’s keeping herself close to the exit door on purpose, probably ready to bolt the first chance she gets. I’ve been alone in this room with many women, all jittery and buzzing with alcohol and anticipation, but never a girl who is so obviously terrified to even be here.

And that’s all I’ve been thinking of her as, too—a girl. She seems young—younger than me, sure, but young in the sense of shyness and inexperience, too. This isn’t her scene, and I know from Lydia’s description that it wasn’t her idea to come here. Her friends have brought her here in celebration of her birthday. They bought her an hour with me as a gift. And when you put it like that, I suppose I should see the humor in it.

And maybe I do. At least, that’s until it dawns on me how scared she is of me. For the first time ever, it occurs to me to leave her standing there in the darkness and disappear out through my own exit door on the other side of the room to go seek out Lydia, advising her that I have standards, and there’s no way I’m going to try to seduce a young woman who obviously doesn’t want to be seduced in the first place.

But then, two things happen.

First, I touch her. Not a mild pat on the back, but a soft graze of my fingertips up the warm, smooth skin of her bare arm. The way her skin feels under my touch, combined with the sound of the resultant gasp that falls from her lips—something changes. She isn’t just scared, then. She’s enticed.

She wants me.

And by the time her own exploring fingertips rake down my abdomen, making me ache with relentless need, I fucking want her, too.

That’s when the second thing happens.

She asks me.

Okay, so it’s not actually a question. But that’s probably why it affects me so much. She’d seemed so timid, so uncertain. Then, she took a chance, put her own hands on me without seeking permission, and said the magic word. Want. I want to be your first.

Oh, Rose. Suddenly, I want the same damn thing, but for completely selfish reasons.

Mostly, because I don’t have to ask her for it. And her sudden flash of confidence is intoxicating as hell.

“You can have anything you want,” I say, and I’m surprised to hear the waver in my voice.

As I duck my head again to continue my sensual assault of tender kisses along her bare shoulder, Rose turns her head, just enough to push me back slightly...and just enough to align her face with mine.

In that moment, I can feel her breath, hot and damp against my skin. For that entire moment, neither of us moves, teetering on the precipice of desire and lust, sharing the same thin air but feeling deprived of it in some way, unable to take in what we need. Because air isn’t our most vital necessity, and other more urgent desires are churning within us.

“Kiss me.” It’s meant to sound like an instruction, but my words come out as more of a plea. It’s the first time that I’ve demanded something within the confinements of the Seduction Room, and it breaks all the rules I’m supposed to follow.

But rules don’t matter. All that does is the fact that Rose doesn’t hesitate to obey, and her lips crash against mine with a fervor that my lust-filled brain can’t completely comprehend.

After that, everything becomes a blur of gasps and panting and touching that rivals anything the walls of this room have ever seen before. I’m on her, a wild animal on its prey, with her back pressed up against the wall. Having her pinned there, with my weight pushed fully against her, I know she can feel how fucking bad I want her. All of her. There’s no denying the painful hardness I’ve got pressed up against her abdomen.

My tongue invades her mouth, exploring her, teasing her, and she matches each feverish kiss and lick relentlessly.

There are no words uttered between us.

Because they aren’t needed.

Only two people with an emptiness inside them—the need to fill a deep void within themselves—would understand the unspoken conversation between us. I recognize her desperation for what it is.

The craving of freedom, in any sense that she can obtain it.

Oh, Rose, I crave it, too. I want to tell her I understand, that I feel that way, too. That I truly believe everyone craves true freedom in different ways.

But, be damned if I will ruin this to call her out on her deepest fears and insecurities. That’s not what this is about. If it’s a moment’s worth of freedom she wants, I’ll give it to her the only way I know how.

“Rose—” I whisper.

“Shh,” she pants. I feel her head tip back, and listen to her gulping in air. “Don’t ask,” she hisses through her sharp breaths. “I’ll stop you if it’s not okay.”

I bend forward, nipping at the skin at the hollow of her throat. “I wasn’t going to ask anything, doll, but that’s good to know.” I chuckle against her throat. “What I was going to say was that you taste like spiked coffee.”

The sweetest sound I’ve ever heard meets my ears—she genuinely chuckles. Then, I can feel her grind her hips forward, eliciting a guttural groan from me that I can’t contain. “Wake The Dead,” she whispers, as though it’s a big secret.

“What?”

“Wake The Dead,” she giggles again, leaning forward to find my lips again and kiss me—an act of tenderness now, not primal hunger, which shocks me. “It’s the name of the shot I was drinking. My friends said it’s guaranteed to jack you up.”

I hold her bottom lip between my teeth, then kiss her back, harder. I can’t help myself. She has yet to stop the slow, painfully delicious rolling of her hips, and it’s doing all kinds of fucking insane things to my brain. “You’re jacking me up, all right.”

“You like that?”

I have to jut a hand out against the wall and bite down on my bottom lip when she slides a hand between us and runs her fingers along my erection that’s straining achingly against my jeans.

“Like is not a strong enough word,” I bite out through clenched teeth.

“Are we running out of—”

I fumble in the dark, but my fingers find their way to her lips, silencing her. “Time?” I finish for her. “You’re too focused on the time, doll. I won’t let us go over our allowed time limit, and I won’t let someone walk in here and catch us. You’re safe, okay?”

With my fingers still pressed against her lips, she nods. But without warning, I feel her tongue against my fingers, then her mouth surrounds them, sucking gently.

Fuck . I’d give anything to see her right now.

She lets her teeth graze up the length of my fingers as she releases them, and I have to clear my throat. This girl is killing me. Just fucking killing me.

“I...I...” Rose clears her throat. “I do want you. I know I shouldn’t, but I do.”

“Want, huh?”

She’s motionless. “Want is not a strong enough word.”

To hell with this, and to hell with my niggling thought that this might actually be a mistake. “What you want, you get,” I remind her in a raspy voice. “In this room, that’s how it works.”

“Can you sit down somewhere?”

Her request only stops me for a moment. The woman’s got a plan. And if that isn’t hot as hell, I don’t know what is. “Trust me, okay?” I whisper, kissing her hard again. Then, I tug her away from the wall, leading her further into the room.

I know where everything is, how the entire room is set up. I should, seeing as I helped to determine the layout. But Rose has got me all flustered and all I can think about is burying myself to the hilt inside her, and fucking her until her body clenches around me. Which is exactly why I stumble onto the armchair in the corner, practically falling into it with an unceremonious “Oompf!”

“Shit, sorry,” I choke out.

But it doesn’t matter what I’m saying, because I can feel her hands tracing across the edge of my jeans, doing a little fumbling of her own as she tugs at my belt buckle.

“You say we have time,” she mutters. “But my mind is racing, and so is the clock. Don’t let me waste another minute, please.”

The way she says it, it makes me wonder if she’s actually talking about wasting another minute of this hour, or in general. But, it’s really difficult to ponder life’s bigger questions when a woman is unzipping your jeans.

“Whatever you want, Rose. I mean that.” And I do.

She says nothing as I let her pull my jeans down slightly, lifting my weight slightly to help. It’s the first time that the absolute darkness around us feels obstructive and daunting to me. I’m used to it—focusing on the feel of a woman’s touch, the sensation of her soft fingers mixed with the pulsing and throbbing of my cock. At least, I thought I was. Because, now, I want to see her as her hand encircles my shaft, and I want to witness the sexy little ‘O’ her mouth makes when she realizes how thick and long I am.

For now, all I can do is feel my erection spring free and, without hesitation, her hand holds me against her palm. A loud groan escapes my mouth just as she inhales sharply.

“Oh, fuck,” I whisper without meaning to.

“Yes,” she replies with a shaky breath. “Exactly .”

I don’t know what she means by that...until the pressure of her hand on my cock disappears and I think she’s changed her mind. That’s when her lips find mine, as she’s crawling onto me, straddling my hips with her knees pressed against either side of me.

Without thinking, I slide my hands up her arms, hold her steady, and push her gently back. It’s enough to get her attention, which is proving hard to do. She’s got an agenda, or maybe it’s something to prove. To herself, or to me, I’m not sure, but there’s something. Which is why I stop her.

“Rose.” I start with her name, just so I can be sure she’s truly listening. “Are you sure about this?”

There’s a moment of silence, but it’s short. “God, yes.”

Once again, I wish I could see her eyes, to see how much hesitation lies within them.

Instead, I reach one arm down beside the chair to a stand I know is placed there, and I fumble aimlessly for the drawer. Inside it, I pull the small square packet from the drawer and press it into her hand. “Then we’re going to need that.”

For a second, there’s no sound or movement. Hesitation; I can recognize it even without seeing it.

But, then, in a flurry of movement, I hear the packet being ripped open and her hand is wrapped around me again, and the sudden pressure of her fingers pulls a sigh from deep within me.

“I want this.” Her voice meets my ears, soft but assertive.

Shit, she’s going to do me in long before she means to, if she’s not careful. And if she wants this, I want to give it to her...but, hell, not yet .

“Easy does it,” I say, coaxing her into slowing down a bit. “Your touch is definitely getting my attention, which I’m sure you can tell.” I let my head tilt back as she rolls the condom onto my length, soaking in the sensation. “How about you tell me what you want from me, doll. I want to hear it from your mouth, because I can’t see it in your eyes.”

Her fingers are gripped tightly around my cock, her hand sliding up and down, making my breath come out in ragged breaths.

“I want...” Her mouth is so close to mine that I can feel her breath against my lips. “...to not have to ask for it. You’re a man, and you know how this works. I want...” Her body shifts, and her free hand finds mine, guiding it down between her legs. “...to feel you kiss me, feel you move against me, and feel you fuck me.”

She gasps when my fingers pull her panties to the side, then pull her tight dress higher up on her hips. Her demands are turning me on, and I can feel the damp heat emanating from her against my palm. This woman is ready, waiting, and she wants me.

I want her, too.

Which is exactly why I waste no more time, using one hand to trace up her body to the back of her neck, pulling her face to mine and crashing my mouth onto hers, and the other to encircle her hand that’s still wrapped around my erection, guiding it to her entrance. There, I halt, giving her the last possible, fleeting idea of a chance to back away.

She doesn’t. Instead, she arches her hips as she lets go of me, lowering herself onto me. Shamelessly, I lift my hips just slightly, too, meeting her movements and burying myself within her.

Rose’s guttural moan is lost somewhere amidst our kiss, but the sound does something to me. There’s no way to remain objective when a woman is straddled on your lap, riding you with a primal desire unmatched against any previous sexual experience you’ve ever experienced, and her feverish kiss and relentless hip thrusts are making it even more impossible to keep my wits about me. But, there’s something about the way she’s caught my attention—it’s more than just a blatant physical urge to fuck her senseless. That’s what she’s asking me for, but for the first time in all my time at Club Sin...I want to know why .

My hands crawl up her body again, and I pull at her strapless dress, first tentatively, then more aggressively. Rose doesn’t try to stop me, and I pull it down the rest of the way, freeing her breasts and rolling her nipples between my thumbs.

She lets out a loud gasp, followed by a breathless “Oh God...”, which only makes her roll her hips harder against mine. At this angle, I can’t possibly be any deeper inside her, and the heat, and sensation, and slick wetness of her is driving me absolutely insane.

I can’t think, and if I could see, I know I wouldn’t be seeing anything clearly, either.

Jesus, she’s the one fucking me senseless.

“Rose...” It’s said with a muted warning, because if she keeps going, rocking her hips up and down my cock like that, driving me into her so recklessly, I’m not going to last another minute.

“Fuck, yes...” The words pass her lips, caressing mine like a blissful hum. She’s lost now, captivated only by the desire to come completely undone from the inside out.

And I need to give that to her.

With one swift movement, I guide a protective hand around to the small of her back, holding her in place as I push myself forward. Instinct kicks in, and Rose’s thighs clench around mine, holding herself to me as a startled shriek emits from her mouth.

In an instant, I’ve laid her down on the floor in front of the chair as gently as I can manage. There’s a bed in the room, in the far right corner, but I know I couldn’t have made it there. Not when I need to make her come as badly as I want to.

“What are—”

“Shh,” I hiss, hovering above her. I thrust hard into her—once, twice, and then again, picking up speed. “Let me fuck you , Rose. Take it. Take what you need.”

Her legs wrap around me, and her hips rock upward, meeting each thrust in perfectly matched synchronicity. She gasps each time I bury myself inside her, her nails digging painfully into my shoulders as she takes the mix of pleasure and pain without complaint.

“Your name...” Her words are but a plea, begging me. “What’s your—”

“Ash,” I growl, slamming into her again. “Ash—”

“Oh God, Nash!”

Rose shatters beneath me, every muscle within her clenching around me as she screams my name again. She’s so tight, so deliciously wet. I thrust into her wildly, again and again, but I can’t hold back anymore, and I’m tipped over the edge, finding my own violent release only moments after her.

I curse loudly, giving in to my climax, letting my mouth find hers again to muffle any further crass words falling off my tongue. I begin to slow my movements, taking my time to allow both of us a moment to catch our breath and allow the euphoria to subside.

“Holy shit,” I chuckle, my voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. I’ve already broken one of my own rules, usually being sure to at least say the client’s name as she gets me off, in a bid to make her feel wanted. But, damn it, there’s a big fucking difference between a woman giving me a hand job and a woman...doing whatever Rose just did to me. I’d lost all train of thought, and my mental checklist of personal rules along with it. “That was incredible, Rose,” I breathe, my weight resting heavily on my elbows as I hover over her. “You are—”

It takes me a moment to realize she’s pushing me off her, and I pull away, rolling onto my side to give her the space she’s silently asking for.

“Rose?”

I can hear her shuffling about, fabric being pulled back into place and breaths being let out slowly as she tries to compose herself.

“Rose,” I say again. I reach out in front of me as I pull my exhausted body onto my knees, then stumble to stand, but my hands find only air.

“I...I...oh God,” she stammers, somewhere to my right.

Fuck, I’m disoriented, but I reach out again. She’s not there.

“I shouldn’t have...” Her words drip with mounting hysteria. “Oh God...”

“Rose. It’s—”

All I want to tell her is that it’s okay, that she just needs to calm down. All I want to do is touch her again, put my hands on her and ease her mind and body after the moments we’ve just shared.

But, I can’t. Because it occurs to me a moment too late that she’s made it to the door, and the crack of dim light that shows as she opens it isn’t enough for me to catch a glimpse of more than her hourglass silhouette. As my eyes adjust, I can see her bend at the waist, and it occurs to me that perhaps she’s searching for a light switch. Either way, it gives me the time I need to get to her, and I attempt to stumble toward her while pulling my jeans back up.

“I shouldn’t have done this.”

Her words hit me at the same time the door closes, and I reach out hoping to catch it before it clicks, but it’s too late. Far, far too late. Because she’s on the other side of that door, the door I’m forbidden to open, and she may as well be a million miles away.