“One more night, Sarge.”
She let out a weak laugh. One that trickled to every part of her warm-and-getting-warmer body that should be saying No way instead of Yes!
His fingers moved down her neck, leaving twin trails of heat on her flesh. His long lashes draped over hooded eyes filled with the promise of things Gloria hadn’t let herself want in a long time. Namely, him. More specifically, sex with him.
“I beg of you. I’m a drowning man.”
Those damn eyes. They muddled her mind. Cracked her foundation. She watched helplessly as her hands grasped the lapels of his tuxedo jacket and pulled him closer instead of pushing him away. He looked as good in this outfit as he did in anything else he wore…or didn’t wear.
“Please.” He clasped her waist, firm but gentle.
“Ash…” She was losing the ability to say no. Or maybe she’d lost it the moment she’d reached for him.
“I miss you, Sarge.” Melted chocolate eyes, sincerity on his face…He was killing her. Absolutely killing her.
“Well, I hate you,” she whispered, wishing she could mean it.
He let loose a sideways grin. “You don’t.”
“Yes, I do,” she said with a petulant pout, even as her arms moved to his neck and draped over his shoulders. Bad idea.
He took advantage, laying his lips on hers as he tugged her flush with his torso, pressing her breasts to his chest and slanting his mouth to deepen their connection.
Oh God. So good.
She opened to him, savoring the flavor she hadn’t tasted in years. Years was a long time to go without Asher’s kiss. She’d kissed men before and since, yet none of them compared. But she wasn’t going to waste her time thinking of them. The nice, hazy little brain vacation she was partaking in at the moment was the dominating sensation in her world.
So she enjoyed the smoky, whiskey flavor of his mouth and the way his tongue stroked hers, zapping electricity through her entire body like a hair dryer dropped into a tub of water. She touched his stubbled face, tugging him closer as she rocked her hips against one of his thighs.
Hopeless. She was completely hopeless when it came to him.
When he finally lifted his lips from hers, it was to breathe a command she wouldn’t refuse. “My room.”
Gloria didn’t think. For once, she didn’t think about their past, or other people, or the fact that she was jumping from the Frigidaire to the frying pan. She simply allowed him to link his fingers with hers and lead her up the mansion stairs to his guest room.
*
“Fucking perfect,” Asher praised from over Gloria’s head.
Of course it was. If there was one thing she had perfected, it was the blow job. He was propped, his head on a pillow, one hand nested in her hair, his fingers stroking her scalp. She continued tasting him, and he tasted really, really good.
Just like I remember.
She grasped his shaft, taking the length of him, which was substantial, onto her tongue. He groaned, his rings scraping her head as he continued to thread his fingers into her hair, and a thought came that she couldn’t push away.
This is going to end badly. Not the blow job, but the evening in general.
He’d talked her into it because he was Asher Knight. With a pair of assaulting dark eyes and charisma to spare, he could cause the mass swooning of every female within a mile radius without trying. After what had happened between them, she could almost expect trouble to follow wherever he went. But he couldn’t resist her, and she couldn’t resist him.
So here they were.
His hips bucked and she shut down the tumultuous thoughts and smiled around her work, pleased with herself for pleasing him so thoroughly. His breathing went shallow and he lifted the length of her black hair from her face so he could watch what she was doing. She sneaked a peek to see his mouth dropped open, eyebrows pinched together in a so-much-pleasure-it-hurt expression.
He was a beautiful, beautiful, sexy beast of a man, but that wasn’t the only reason why she liked being with him. Asher pushed her. Encouraged her to let go, to give in, to stop, at least for a little while, trying to control every tiny detail of her life. When she was with him, she could be present in the moment. As present as he was with her now.
His fist wound in her hair and on her next upward sweep, he tugged her mouth off his cock. She licked her lips, arms still locked around his thighs, his leg hair tickling her breasts.
“Get your very fine ass up here and ride me.” He gave her a lopsided smile, an irresistible tilt she couldn’t deny.
Since she and Asher had imploded a little over two years ago, she’d been with other guys. And she knew he hadn’t kept his hands (or any of his other body parts) to himself since she quit him cold turkey after the Jordan Disaster. But now that they were here and they were naked and she’d had him in her mouth and he’d had his mouth all over her…