Andrew wondered if any drug gave the kind of potent, out-of-this-world high that Ashley’s tongue did. Probably not. This kind of high shouldn’t even be legal.
“More,” he hissed, not wanting the sensation of her teeth nibbling his ear to end.
He felt a surge of euphoria when she suckled on his collarbone while his back was still against the wall of the doorway. He’d barely shut the door to his apartment, but they were already ripping into each other like hungry wolves. They couldn’t help it.
Their magnetic, soul-deep, scorching attraction could not be extinguished. They made each other’s body ignite into a raging firestorm that brewed on and on.
His hands slithered over her butt and he lifted her up.
Her legs encircled him. She shook off her shoes and buried her lips in his, kissing him savagely, like she was consuming something so essential she couldn’t live without it. It wasn’t a controlled kiss. They were following their instincts—taking what they knew was theirs, but only for a short time.
The sharp corners of her canines scraped his lips and tongue as she caressed every nook and cranny in his mouth with her devilish tongue.
Andrew lost his mouth to her until he could only feel the pulsation of his blood that came from a slow, deep surrender. Her legs tightened around him, constricting his blood flow. His whole system shook with the waves of excitement rocking him.
“Seven years,” Ashley said, managing to fit words between the breaths she took. “I died every time I couldn’t do this.”
“Looks like I’ve killed you more than once.”
“And you can continue killing me a million more times. But this time, kill me softly. And kill me with your fingers stroking me…”
Now she made him really want to rip off those jeans, which he did—fast and furious. He dragged her pants down over the mile-long legs, pressing kisses on her thigh all the way down to the littlest toe. She was gorgeous everywhere. There was no part of her he would change—and no part of her he would ignore this time.
“Do it again. I like it,” she demanded.
He snaked his fingers over her knees and drew a line with his tongue. Gooseflesh protruded all over her legs.
“Want to play a fantasy truth and dare?” she suggested, pushing him to the wall with her elbow. Her sudden aggression stirred up a flush of lust in him. She was so sexy when she was assertive… like she had been the first time they’d kissed.
He already knew what his fantasy was going to be—to have her dominate him. He wanted her to take the lead and show him that she was still the same bold and delicious girl whom he had fallen for when he had driven her home drunk that night.
Panting, he dreamt of her pinning him to the bed, climbing on top and fiercely demanding every ounce of pleasure she could wring out of their intercourse, every pound of pleasure she could wring out of them until they both lay spent, basking in the afterglow of having made love. Once in a while, it would be great to have the pressure off himself to be the one to have to take control.
He was designating control as his official enemy for the day.
And when she was on top, he would see her at angles he had never before. Her breasts, hanging over his mouth, squishing into his face… even that visual was undeniably spicy.
“Tell me your fantasies,” he begged. He lifted her top and sucked on her belly button. Her stomach muscles fluttered and he yanked off her top. “I want to make every one of them come true.”
“I want you to worship me and love every bit of me as much as I love you.”
It wasn’t hard to take a shot at where that was coming from—she thought her love was still one-sided. He was going to show her how wrong she was.
Her kiss-stung lips, rough and red around the edges, were so close to his that he could feel her breath on every cell in his face. She moistened her lips with a sweep of her tantalizing tongue. That made him go hard. But the best part was that their lips were so close that while she wet her lips, she simultaneously wet his too.
“Just so we’re even.”
Grumbling, he gasped as his T-shirt was rolled up to his neck by her lithe, hardworking fingers. Slithering to his naked chest, she landed straight on his left nipple with her damp mouth and zigzagged to the other, leaving the path of skin she had traversed trembling with ecstasy.
Andrew gave a pat on her butt and her legs came up and coiled around him tightly, going off the floor.
“I’m supposed to be worshipping you, not the other way around.”
“Then why don’t you?” Capturing her mouth between his upper and lower lip, he bit her soft, fleshy folds with his teeth and rolled them between until they were so red, so swollen with rapture that even looking at them was enough to make him soar. She dug her knees into his hips, closer and closer to his excited center, and a soft cry emanated from her plumped mouth.
“I never knew pain could be so erotic,” she cried in a husky voice, and when he heard her, he was sure he came. Her voice played his strings like magic.
She fingered the ripe erogenous zone of her mouth. His eyes fell on her fingers—the most neglected part of her and his most favorite. Somehow, he was starting to think that this ‘worshipping her’ idea was going to end up with him being the one receiving all the delight.
***
Ashley’s throbbing center almost erupted in a near-orgasm when Andrew drew one long finger of hers into his mouth. Oh, God, this was too much for her to take in.
Then he did something so unexpected, every drop of her blood shot to stratospheric temperatures—gripping her moist finger, he thrust it into her feminine folds and guided it around, making her grind the tip against her clitoris repeatedly. He controlled the pressure, the velocity, the intensity, but she was the one doing it.
She screamed—but it was a scream of pure, overarching delight. She had never touched herself down there, and definitely not with a man guiding her. She moaned every minute of the way as her middle finger and the tip of his thumb assaulted her pubic mound, all the way up to the opening of her vagina, from which drops of viscous liquid poured like honey.
“I’m going to go in, all the way in, until we find your spot. Then I’ll make you come,” he promised. The words sent shivers down her spine. He’d said ‘we,’ not ‘I’. “But all that needs lube.”
With her still latched onto his body, he maneuvered to his bedroom. The last time, she’d fled before she could sleep on that vast bed—but this time, she was determined to stay.
“It’s in the lower drawer. Get it for me.” Andrew plunged her body lower, supporting her. She didn’t just get out the lube, but also the condoms for later.
A lazy, sensual smile curved on his handsome face. “Thinking into the future, are we?”
“It’s closer than you think.” she said.
She put the two packets of condoms on the bedside table, uncapping the bottle of lube and dousing her fingers in it. He took it from her when she was done and poured some of the watery substance over her vagina.
She didn’t need any lubricant there. She was already wet and ready after the foreplay. He let her fall onto the bed and pushed her thighs apart. If it had been anyone else, she’d have felt embarrassed and exposed, but right now, she was too hazy to string together any thoughts.
Her finger slid into her core with his sheathing it, and he shoved it up, little by little until she touched her G-spot and every bit of air evacuated her lungs.
“Curl your finger towards me,” he instructed, and she was taken aback at the unclouded ardor she saw in him, even though it was she who was receiving all the pleasure. “Now move it slowly. Yeah, like that.”
He was the one doing all the moving. Like pushing the right button on a remote control, every time her rough skin contacted the point of her release, she flew higher and higher up, gasping for breath, wailing with unbearable release.
But the release didn’t come. It was there, looming like an inevitable reality, but she needed something else to push her over the edge—to finally break away the chains of fear that had imprisoned even the subliminal impulses in her.
Andrew saw it—saw the ugly thing inside her that kept her from the ultimate freedom of a release. And instead of being upset, he became charged.
“Come. I’ll be there for you. I promise,” he murmured, with his lips on her chest. The words vibrated through her, dissolving the last remnants of the fear she had held on for too long. He encouraged her fingers, pushing them deeper.
More than the scraping of her nail on her G-spot, it was his words that smashed open the gates of ultimate ecstasy she had been pummeling against.
Earthquakes of rapture, with magnitudes off the charts, hailed her entire being. She was entrapped in a blizzard of unceasing, overpowering sensations originating from a place within her that no one had touched—no one before him, that was.
Andrew could rip her open like a violent storm with something as simple as a flick at her G-spot. But her rapture originated not in the way he propelled her finger to rub over the slight protrusion inside her vagina, but in the fierce determination in his eyes to please her, make her come—that was what had sent her to the sky and back.
That was the quality of his that made her weak in the knees every time—his relentless determination. And right now, he was deploying it to the best possible usage.
From her fingers, he forged his path to her nose in a series of flicks of his tongue. He sucked it, teased it and lapped it with strokes of his tongue.
“You need to follow some order, you know. You can’t just jump from my fingers to my vagina to my nose,” Ashley complained. The aftereffects of the earlier orgasm were still running inside her body like a current, clothing her in a pleasure so deep, so real, so spiritual, that she would gladly drown in this feeling for all of eternity.
“I keep forgetting the order when I look at you. Maybe I should do this blindfolded. That way I won’t be distracted by temptation.”
“No, I want your eyes open and on me. Don’t you want to look at me? You haven’t looked at me for seven years.”
Withdrawing his touch, he spent the next five minutes absorbing her with his eyes. She didn’t doubt that she could orgasm again just by watching him watch herself reflected in his reverent eyes. The twist of his lips, the gray smoke of his eyes, almost made her believe that she belonged in a pantheon in Greece—that was how much he worshipped her with his eyesight alone.
“You’re so beautiful, I could look at you all day, Ashley. You’re magnetic.” he said.
“As much as I’d like that, there are other things I have my mind set on for tonight. Things involving action,” she said.
“Tell me what kind of action,” he urged.
“The kind of action which involves you getting inside me.”
Without a word of rebuttal or agreement, he snatched a condom from the bedside and tore the cover apart with his mouth. She wanted to be the one to roll it over his penis, but he beat her to it. His impatience brought a smile to her face. It was proof of how much—and how desperately—he wanted her.
When he climbed over her, she caught his shoulders. “I want to be on top this time. I’ve never been on top.” It was a demand—not a question.
“I can’t believe even our fantasies overlap.” He buried his head into the waves of her hair and kissed her scalp.
They exchanged places. It was a new feeling, having her breasts hanging down over his mouth like ripe grapes and watching him squash her boobs together and stroke them over his skin. Her flesh was in his face, being rubbed by his rough palms.
He pecked her nipples, immersing the plump folds into his mouth and going over the edges with his tongue.
“Come into me. I can’t wait anymore.” She was too impatient today. She wanted him in her before this moment, this urgency burst like a bubble. She was not in the mood for any more foreplay. When he didn’t move quickly enough, she touched his penis and pushed it into her opening. That was how impatient she was.
“I’m not going anywhere. Relax,” he assured her with a smile.
Her core sucked him in. It was a brand-new experience having him enter her from this angle and she didn’t know whether it was the novelty that made it so exhilarating.
Her body closed around him. She felt like the master. She was controlling him now, not the other way round. Having him in her made her insides explode like fireworks. He was comfortable, familiar yet thrilling every single time. He had penetrated her so many times, but never like this.
He moved in her and with every thrust her brain released a fresh surge of serotonin. Ashley hadn’t felt this close to breaking in forever. His lips nibbled her collarbone. Oh, God. He was tormenting every part of her with his strokes that submerged every inch of her in pure delightful ecstasy.
She clenched the muscles at the base of her belly, stimulating him. His cock shuddered inside her. He arched his back and his nails dug into her.
“Don’t do that, or I’ll come,” he whispered hoarsely.
“Then come,” she challenged, putting even more effort into stimulating him.
“You’re even sexier as a dominatrix than I imagined. We should have done this more often.”
“I’ll buy a whip for next time.” she promised. She wanted to try more creative things with him.
A full-throated, appreciative laugh told her he liked the idea. He never judged anything she said, which made her feel comfortable. And say even more crazy things. “Technically, what you’re doing now also counts as torture.”
“Then should I release you from the agony?” she asked, knowing full well what the answer would be. In fact, she didn’t even wait for it.
A second later, his body went limp under her. Then, as she felt the hurricane shaking him, she dropped her head on his chest. His inhales were erratic. She could read the story of the sensations unfolding inside him, chapter by chapter from the slight movements he made.
He closed his eyes, and she let him bask in the glory of his release as she basked in the glory of having him fused into her. Ashley was starting to hope he never left. Like in the past, it was stupidly easy to get used to him. And despite his protests and doubts, she wasn’t going to let him slip away this time. She wasn’t going to bite back the words that needed to be said to keep him here. She wasn’t going to let anything come between them now.
He was hers.
Had always been.
Would always be.
And Ashley was going to make sure Andrew was well aware of that simple truth too before she left his apartment.
“The next time you blast me from the edge of a cliff to outer space, I’ll need more than a second of warning,” he said when he regained control over his vocal cords. “I don’t even have words for how out of this world that was.”
She kissed his nose—his cute nose, which was as perfect as every other feature of his. In the beginning she had hated his perfection, but she had to admit it had grown on her over the years.
“I feel like a man drinking water for the first time in seven years and remembering how addictive and indispensable it is.” he said.
The metaphor, while cheesy, was something she’d forgive. A man who had been in the throes of an orgasm until a second ago couldn’t be expected to whip up the most original literary device.
“Now it’s time for your fantasy.” She doubted she could handle more, but she had to be fair.
Painting over the outlines of his abs with her tongue, she tasted forbidden bliss. Caramel and liquid chocolate was what his stomach felt like on her taste buds. Never had she believed it to be possible to want to savor the taste of a man’s skin and the rough, undulating textures of his muscles. But the more she plundered, the more restless she became to have all of him at once.
There was a delay, then he slid out of her. Burying his lube-coated fingers in the flesh of her thighs, he kneaded them.
“Punish me in all the ways you’ve wanted to in the last seven years,” he said, remorse replacing the ease from a minute ago. “I know you must have thought more than once of strangling me. Kicking me. Hitting me.”
That wasn’t funny and she knew Andrew wasn’t referring to masochism—he was referring to what she’d said in Café Noire.
It made her sad to note how much regret was sunk into those words. She had been blaming him all this time, but after the conversation at Carluccio’s, she wondered if she had hated him less than he hated himself.
“You weren’t listening to me earlier when I said it wasn’t your fault, were you?” She swiped her velvet tongue over his trembling chest. “I forgive you, Andrew, that’s why I’m doing this with you—telling you all my fantasies, allowing you to explore me. Exploring you. Why would I share the most intimate part of me with a man I hated?”
“I can’t forgive myself,” he admitted, his mop of brown curls descending over the pillow. “I really hurt you that time.”
Resting her cheek against his chest, she whispered, “What would it take to make you forgive yourself?”
She was tired of seeing him beating himself up over this. Just how deep did this streak of self-blame run? His resistance was borne out of it—if she wanted them to have anything long-term, she first needed to break down these walls.
“To see you happy,” he admitted.
“I am happy. I have never been unhappy. Depression is not unhappiness.” When he didn’t seem convinced, she continued. “When we were married, I was really happy. You would call me a lot, you’d make me laugh in the middle of my work day, you’d make me breakfast before you left, you’d have pizza delivered for dinner without me asking you to, you’d dance with me when you saw me feeling blue—I remember all of that, you know.”
“You were depressed for a year because of me.” Andrew said that like it was supposed to mean anything.
“Do you know why it took me one year to recover from depression? Because losing you felt like losing everything. I would never have felt that way if I had not been happy with you.”
She could swear she saw tears in his eyes. He was moved. Huddling close to her, he jammed her to his body with ferocity, until every bone, every muscle of his was boring into her.
“I love you, Ashley. I tried so hard not to. But I always lose when I see you. It’s not fair that you are so beautiful inside and out. It’s not fair that you’re so amazing that you fill all my thoughts and say all the right things every time. It’s not fair that you make me feel like a better man than I am.”
“It’s also not fair that you write me chapters in your autobiography when you know I’ll never be able to do that. So we’re even.” she said.
He kissed her neck, then licked it.
“And now, going back to me punishing you.”
“Anything you’d do would be too pleasurable to be called a punishment.” He traced the curve of her breasts using gentle finger presses on the mounds, staying on the sides.
Her nerve endings shouted out in delight at his every press. The vertex of her legs, already wet, became wetter. He drew letters on her, making her guess the words. The first one was ‘you’. The second one ‘are’. The third ‘breathtaking’.
After that, retaining her senses became impossible amidst the onslaught of euphoria, so she stopped guessing the letters. She had known that the undersides of her breasts were her erogenous zones, but it was starting to look like the sides were much more sensitive than even the base.
It amazed her how he could find uncharted territories and plumb new springs of gratification every single time they had sex.
Andrew satisfied her on every level—mental, emotional and sexual. What had been hot chemistry in their youth must have had much deeper roots. There was a reason she was so attracted to him—he made her see parts of her she could never have accessed on her own.
Even the strength, the independence and the will to be successful that she had found in herself had been because of him leaving her. It wasn’t ideal the way he had left, but no relationship was ideal. Didn’t she hate perfection, anyway?
Pain, mistakes, regret and growth were part of their relationship as much as love, understanding, support and joy were. And that was how she wanted it to be.
“Open for me.” His deep voice shook her nerves.
She went under him again, and he pushed her thighs apart. He lifted her up slightly and his tongue caressed her pubic mound, meandering up and down till she crooned when tension built up inside her.
Every inhale propelled her closer and closer to the light. His tongue danced on her clitoris and the needles of heat shooting through her had her banging her fist against the wall, begging for release.
“I guess this is what wall-banging sex means.” He chuckled, growing more and more persistent in his mission to lavish her with all the care she deserved.
She was simultaneously embarrassed at her abandon and thrilled at experiencing this kind of no-holds-barred sex. Not being the kind of person who could generally overcome her inhibition, she was shocked—in a pleasant way—at her own reaction.
“Don’t worry, I don’t have any neighbors.”
With all her hesitation dissolved, she was engulfed by the ultimate culmination to all her pent-up desire. This one was even more powerful than her first. Chaotic tornadoes lashed inside her. In the chaos was satisfaction. It was a sensual indulgence to have him all to herself for hours at a stretch.
“I feel like I’m the one having all the fun.” she complained.
“What’s wrong with that?” His lips separated from her and he allowed her to close her legs.
He cuddled next to her, clearly signaling that he was done for. Now it was time for intimacy of a different kind. Ashley entwined her legs between his, wanting to feel the wet, hot bulge of him stroke her thighs.
She pulled her limbs up and down under the sheets, scraping over the bottom of his shaft, and he groaned.
“You’re insatiable. And you’re making me insatiable too.” he said.
“I’ve held out for seven years. Can you blame me for wanting to take it all now?”
But she understood that he was tired, so she stopped arousing him. Tapping his stomach with her fingers, she moved her gaze down to the table and saw the picture of him as a kid. Looking at it reminded her of the one sore topic between them that remained.
The topic of having children.
Not wanting to kick the hornets’ nest, Ashley pinched her lips together, though the disquiet in her didn’t settle.
“Something bothering you?” Andrew asked, drawing her into the sanctuary of his body. His ability to decipher her innermost thoughts was astonishing.
“Why don’t you want to have kids, Andrew?” She said it before she knew what she was saying.
Andrew pulled away from her, rolling onto the other side of the bed. They hadn’t even started talking about the issue and he was already closing up.
“I’d be a bad dad, like Carl was. I don’t want to put any kid through that kind of childhood.” he said.
So she was right about his unwillingness originating from his own screwed-up relationship with his dad.
“No, you won’t be that way. I won’t let you be that way.” She stretched her arm and took his ear in her palms.
His jaw clenched. “Ashley, let’s not argue over this right now. We’re not having kids.”
For someone who was so successful and had the image of being a confident CEO, Andrew had so many insecurities regarding being a spouse, father, boyfriend.
“I know I’m not going to be the best parent, either, but I have faith in my abilities to learn and grow. You should too.”
Hoping her advice would make him reconsider, Ashley kissed him on his forehead.
Then let it go.
