Asher stopped strumming and rested his guitar on the barrel couch and Glo stared at it, trying to decide if she liked his guitar on her barrel couch. She did. She liked it so much, she could picture it there in the future. And Asher lounging on the couch in the future. Both of them, actually. Because wasn’t that her sitting right next to him in her mind? Yes. Yes, it was.
Ash stood and took two steps to reach the sofa where she sat. He knelt, grabbed the towel where she’d tucked it in at her breasts, and tugged her close.
His lips hovered over hers, but he didn’t kiss her.
“Guy writes a song for you, you’re supposed to swoon.”
“I don’t swoon.” She shivered as the cool air puckered her nipples and brought goose bumps to her skin.
“You moan, though.” He yanked the towel loose and dropped it to the floor. He palmed the back of her head at the same time he placed an openmouthed kiss to her throat. Then one on her collarbone. She tunneled her fingers into his hair, holding him to her as he kissed his way down her chest and took a nipple on his tongue.
“Oh, yes,” she hissed.
Asher sucked her deeply, before sliding his mouth over to her other breast and giving it equal time and attention. As he tortured and pleased her, he laid her flat on her sofa. He slipped his fingers between her legs where she was wet and warm and ready for him.
“So hot. Let me taste.” He backed away enough to give himself room and then dropped her legs over his shoulders, angling himself so he was in between. He went down on her, lapping and making her claw the couch and knock her decorative pillows to the floor.
“Oh God, oh God,” she moaned, eyes closed, all of her in heaven as he laved her with determined licks. He added a finger, then two, and slid deep at the same time he sucked her clit. She nearly shot to the ceiling. “Ash!”
She bucked, her hand on his head, her eyes open to see what he was doing, the way he was turning her inside out. His deliciously muscled shoulders, visible even under his tight shirt, his stubble scraping her inner thighs, his tattoos on display. Her orgasm hit her with a ferocity, and she shouted, knowing it was too loud and her neighbors would probably hear, and not giving a damn.
Shattered, she lay writhing, only vaguely aware that Asher had pulled away and was doing…something. She forced her eyes open all the way and saw him fist the neck of his shirt and strip it over his head. He shed his pants and shoes next. With one hand, he stroked his length into even more length, watching her with hooded dark eyes as she lay, teeth stabbing her lip and anticipating more.
He rolled on a condom, put a knee on the sofa between her legs, and hoisted one of her legs over his hip. Then he drove into her in one long, smooth, mind-melting thrust. Her head tipped back and she held on to his shoulders as he stroked into her, moving to a rhythm that she matched. It felt like they moved to the beat of the song he’d written for her.
You let me in.
She did.
“Stay with me, Sarge.” He drove deep, forcing her thoughts back to him. Asher was the only thought worth having and her body was attuned to his every micro-movement and each hard, smooth, and slick slide. “There she is.”
His breathing was tight as he moved over her and she heard the sweet wave of release build to a deafening roar before she tumbled over again. It took her with it, her synapses exploding, lights flashing behind her eyelids, and her entire body clutching, pulsing, and drawing Asher’s orgasm from him like they were connected—by more than their physical bodies.
He came with a long, low, sexy male groan, and she held him to her, not wanting to lose the feeling of his lips against her ear, or his hand wrapped sturdily around her hip, or the way his weight sank her deeper into the cushions.
Not wanting to lose any of it—any of him.
But he’d have to sit up eventually, and after they both caught their breath, his hold loosened slightly and he pulled his face away to look down at her. She let herself do what she wanted, refusing to temper her feelings for once, and put a hand to his face, appreciating his beauty and all that he was.
“Stay with me,” he whispered, then that soft smile again. His lips brushed hers. He pulled out and made his way to the bathroom.
Stay with me.
Oh, how she wanted to…
On rubbery legs, she met him in the hallway. He kissed her, backing her to her bedroom as he did. They climbed beneath the blankets and shortly after, fell asleep.
And they did it wound around each other.
*
Asher wasn’t asleep.
Gloria was, though, and snoring softly, which was so damn cute he wanted to wake her up and make love to her all over again. But he’d let her rest. She needed it after today, after tonight. He needed it, too, but there was no shutting his brain off.
He climbed from bed carefully, quietly, and padded to the kitchen on bare feet. One peek into her nearly empty fridge confirmed he’d be choosing something from the pantry for his snack.
Before he was finished rummaging, his cell phone rang from his jeans—jeans that were wadded on the floor of Gloria’s living room. He rushed to the discarded pants, recognized the number, and his heart promptly hit his feet.
“Emily.”
“Asher! They’re gone!”