He was typically gentler when we had sex, but this? This was raw and hard and everything I didn’t know I needed. We were swept up in the needs of the moment, our troubles drowned beneath an ocean of desire and expelled with each cry and groan. Still, despite the brutal rhythm of our coupling, he intermittently slowed down to check on me.
I appreciated the sentiment, but I was fine in this position-more than fine. And I didn’t want him to hold back. I wanted him to fuck me harder.
“Right there.” I gasped. “Harder, deeper… yes.”
His balls slapped against my skin with each thrust, underscoring the speed and force of his rhythm, but it still wasn’t enough. I wanted more.
Asher slowed again to accommodate me when I straightened, raised one leg, and stretched it out along the lower barre. I wasn’t quite as flexible as I’d been before my surgeries, but the height of the barre and the way he held me alleviated any pressure that would’ve incited a flare-up.
It actually felt good to stretch out my leg. Most importantly, the new position allowed him to fuck me deep, deeper than any position we’d tried before.”Fuck,” Asher hissed, his body tensing at whatever sensations he felt. His skin gleamed with sweat, and his fingers dug into my hip as he drove into me again.
He quickly matched his previous pace, only it felt even better like this, with me stretched out and him buried to the hilt.
I squealed when he hit a spot he’d never hit before, and my mind blanked from sheer pleasure.
I’d never had sex like this before. Rough and unrelenting and passionate, where he fucked me like he couldn’t get enough of me, and I knew for a fact that I couldn’t get enough of him.
It was the kind of sex that could ruin a girl for life.
My breasts bounced wildly from the force of the pounding, and my mouth hung open, unable to speak, unable to think. I was a sweaty, dripping mess, but I didn’t care.
In fact, it only spurred me on. It was so unlike me, so opposite the careful control that I exhibited in every other area of my life, that it was a turn-on.
I didn’t have to be Scarlett. Instead, I could be this wanton creature who dealt in pleasure and carnality, who could slip out of herself and enter a world of fantasy.
“Look at the way you’re taking my cock.” Asher reached up and gripped my chin with one hand, forcing me to look at him in the mirror. To watch the way his cock plunged in and out of my drenched cunt. “Every inch buried inside you, and your pussy still can’t get enough.”
I whimpered, my pussy clenching around him in shameless agreement.
“So fucking tight.” He lowered his head and sank his teeth into the curve between my neck and shoulder. “So fucking mine.”
Another, more savage thrust scattered any coherence that might’ve formed in my short-circuiting brain.
I was nothing but a giant raw, exposed nerve. Even the brush of air against my skin was unbearable in its sensuality. Add in the dirty words, the lewd sight of him pounding into me in broad daylight, with the innocent music playing in the background…and it was too much.
The piano score hit a crescendo, and my third orgasm of the afternoon detonated from deep inside me. I screamed, waves of pleasure mushrooming from my core to engulf my entire body. My back bowed, and fresh tears pooled in the corners of my eyes as I lost all sense of space and time.
I was a thousand pieces of sensation, broken apart and put together again.
My come was still dripping down my thighs when Asher lowered my leg off the barre and turned me around. He sat me on the wooden beam and hooked my legs around his waist before he continued fucking me, his grunts growing deeper and more guttural as I convulsed around him.
I was still flying high on the last wings of my orgasm when he came with a final deep thrust. His cock twitched inside me as he groaned loudly, the lines of his face drawn tight with pure bliss.
The music was still playing as we held each other, me on the barre and him standing in front of me, our limbs intertwined in a sweaty, exhausted tangle during our come down.
“That’s one way to do cardio,” I panted. “Congrats, Donovan, you passed your final training test.”
His hoarse laughter vibrated from my head to the tips of my toes. “I expect a gold medal commemorating the moment.”
“Of course you do.” I rested my head on his shoulder, closed my eyes, and breathed him in. Some people were comforted by the smell of their childhood or their mother’s cooking, but I was comforted by the scent of him. Rich, earthy, masculine.
It was the scent of home.
“How are you feeling, darling?” Asher stroked my hair, the gentleness of his touch a complete one-eighty from the way he’d just fucked me. “That leg on the barre move…”
I giggled at the mix of awe and concern in his voice. “I’m okay. The position wasn’t uncomfortable, and the lower barre helped.” I lifted my head and gave him a teasing smile. “That’s one of the perks of dating a dancer. We’re very flexible.”
His eyes glittered with relief and a fresh touch of heat.
“I see that. I can’t believe it took us this long to use the studio properly.” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “What have we been doing?”
“Less fun stuff, unfortunately.” I sighed, drowsy but satiated. “But it’s a good last day, isn’t it?”
Asher’s face softened. “Yeah, it is.”
We held each other for a few more minutes until our breathing returned to normal and we finally, reluctantly disentangled. We turned off the music, cleaned ourselves up, and sanitized the studio, but we were still holding tight to the day while it lasted.
Because come tomorrow, everything would change.
ASHER
The next day, a heavy sense of déjà vu slammed into me when I walked into Scarlett’s studio at RAB for the first time in two months.
It looked exactly the same as it did my first day here, and memories resurfaced like vivid snapshots from the past.
The bag. The realization that she was the mystery girl from the pub. The shock when I found out she was also Vincent’s sister.
The events felt like they happened both yesterday and a century ago.
I’d walked in resentful of my forced training and reentered head over heels for my trainer.
It was funny how one summer could change so much.
Scarlett’s smile dazzled when she saw me, but it lasted only a second before her gaze drifted over my shoulder and it morphed into a more neutral version of itself.
“Vincent, you’re early,” she said a little too brightly.
“I dropped off my luggage and came straight here.” Her brother strode in and hugged her. “Look forward to seeing what you have in store for me.”
He gave me a curt nod, which I returned with a similar one of my own. Neither of us quite knew how to handle the thaw in our relationship when we were sober, so we kept a respectful distance while Scarlett turned on the music.
“It’s going to be harder than the wishy-washy workouts you’ve been doing on your own,” she said.”Wishy-washy?” Vincent sounded outraged. “I have a great training regimen. Ask
Men’s Health. My interview with them was their most popular article last year!”
Second most popular. I bit back my reflexive response.
My interview with them got a thousand more clicks than his, but antagonizing him before I told him I was dating his sister later this afternoon was probably not a smart move.
“Uh-huh.” Scarlett sounded unimpressed. “Either way, you’re not caught up on the type of training we’ve been doing all summer, so I’ve modified today’s session to account for that. The season starts in less than two weeks, which means we only have five sessions together.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure why your coach insisted on having you come back for so short a time, but it is what is. We’ll start with warm-ups and then go into the resistance bands.”
I knew why Coach wanted Vincent to catch the tail end of our training together, even if it was only for two weeks. He was gruff and grumpy as hell, but he was an optimist at heart. He probably thought two weeks of forced bonding was better than none.
“Also…” Scarlett drilled us with a hard stare. “The three of us haven’t trained together since the beginning of summer, but my rules still apply. There will be no fighting or bickering in my studio. Understand?”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.