This is it. My last chance to experience Asher St. James. I can’t afford to waste one more second.
I loop my hands through his too-long hair, tugging hard, making him groan. Making me instantly hard as granite.
Asher’s hands wrap around my back, skating down to my shorts. “Get these off.” For the last time, his strong hands undo my clothing.
Seconds later, we crash together. I want to feel him everywhere, his skin against mine, our limbs tangled, our bodies joined.
I kiss him harder, hungrier than I ever have before.
He’s right. I don’t have to use my words. He can read me in other ways.
And he has to know what’s in my head right now.
I didn’t know it could be so good.
I’ll never forget this.
I’ll never forget us.
We grind against each other, and my body lights up like a neon sign at night. I’m so fucking aroused, I’m not sure I can withstand much foreplay.
But I’m willing to try, especially when I slide my hand between us, grip his cock, and swipe a thumb over the tip. Then, I use that liquid arousal, and mine, too, taking us both in hand, spreading it over our lengths.
He shudders from head to toe, and I grin wildly. I did that. I made him feel that good. And I want him to feel all the things.
Letting go of our dicks, I break the kiss, rise up to my knees, and reach for the lube. I might be new to this, but I’m a good student, and I’ve done my homework.
Nudging his legs apart, I settle between them, savoring the view of this gorgeous man under me, his shaft at attention. “I’ll get you ready.”
Asher’s eyes twinkle. “Baby, I’m ready. I took care of that.”
My jaw falls open, and my dick twitches at the image of him pre-gaming. “Wish I coulda seen that.”
“Another time,” he says, and my chest constricts.
Hell. I know it's just a phrase. That it just slipped out. But I can hardly stand the fact that there won’t be another time. I want all the times.
But the last thing I want is to feel bittersweet, so I laser in on this second.
He sits up, reaches for a condom on the nightstand, but before he hands it to me, he grips my jaw. A little rough, a little demanding. Just the way I like it.
“Tell me how you pictured this. When you were fucking your fist back in New York, Mark. How did you imagine fucking me?”
His voice is loaded with raw, unfiltered desire, and the question scorches me. My mind spins with a merry-go-round of images. Positions flip before my eyes, and the erotic carousel is almost too much. My brain might be short-circuiting. I’m nothing but ash as I answer him in a throaty rasp. “Every way. Just every way,” I say.
“I know what you want.” He growls, then opens the condom, and rolls it down my shaft. Next comes more lube, and I’m vibrating with want, with need.
Then, he hauls me in for one more hot kiss before he gets on his hands and knees.
Yes, this is it—this is the sexiest moment ever.
This man offering his body to me for the taking. Reading my thoughts and giving them to me as my reality.
For once in my sorry life, I don’t stop to remind myself of the how-tos, or review my homework. I get behind him, rub the head of my cock against his hole, and push in.
The world tunnels away when he unleashes the most carnal groan of all time. A long, feral fuuuck that lasts forever as I sink inside him. He stretches a strong arm to reach back, grabbing my ass cheek to pull me deeper.
My body is a torch.
Wild sensations whip through me and I try to take it all in—the sheer heat, the tight grip, the utter intensity of his body welcoming me.
But it’s too much to process.
Too many things are happening at once, and all I can do is let instinct take over. I thrust, and soon we find a pace.
I can’t stop gazing at the man under me, recording every detail for posterity. The sheen of sweat beading his skin. The muscles in his back, the waves of his hair, those strong shoulders. And most of all, the way he stares at me when he cranes his neck around to watch me with heavy-lidded eyes.
Like he’s never seen anything better.
Same here, Asher. Same fucking here.
This is everything, and still, I want more of him.
As I pump my hips, I slide a hand along his back, then grip his shoulder hard.
“Yes . . .” he moans.
I move with his sounds, working my hips to the rhythm of his groans. Pretty sure I’m hitting sensory overload, and it won’t take me long.
I reach down, grab his cock, and stroke.