“Ashur, what are you doing to me?”
“I’m making love to you, baby.”
I opened my eyes and reached out to touch him, but he shook his head and stepped out of my reach.
“Ask.”
I bit my lip. He’d been serious about the boss-in-the-bedroom thing. But wasn’t that what had attracted me to him in the first place? His control, his dominance, his knowledge of what I needed.
“May I touch you?”
He pulled his white T-shirt over his head, revealing his perfect ink-covered torso and pecs.
Dear God. I wasn’t the gorgeous one, he was.
Lifting my hand, he placed it over his heart. The heat of his skin seeped into my fingertips.
He stared into my eyes and the emotion I saw there destroyed me inside. “Do you want me, Tara?”
How could any sane woman not want him?
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Good.” He lifted his hand, freeing mine. “Touch me.”
He wouldn’t need to repeat himself. I ran my hand up his shoulder and along his arms in feathered strokes. Up and down, letting my fingers memorize every plain and valley.
Goosebumps prickled his flesh, and it satisfied me to know he had the same reaction I had whenever any part of him connected with my body.
I stroked his pecs and abdomen, enjoying the quickening of his breath. I followed the winding tattoos covering the left side of his body. They were so intricate, so unique, so similar to the one covering my back. There was meaning behind all of it, one filled with history and pain, something I wouldn’t bring up to mar the moment. I tried my best to ignore the slightly puckered skin hidden under the long tongue of a winding cobra but the need to comfort got the best of me and I kissed one of the long, jagged marks.
Ashur inhaled deep and clenched his fists at his sides.
Immediately I pulled back. “Am I hurting you?”
He cupped my face. “No, baby. I’m just sensitive there.”
“Will you tell me about it one day?”
“Yes, but not tonight. Tonight is about us. Not the past.”
I continued my exploration of his upper body, enjoying every little flinch of his muscles and the increased rhythm of his breath.
Just as I moved to cup his straining cock, he grabbed my wrist.
“No more petting. I want to fuck you. My cock has barely gone down since I watched you come apart in the lavatory, and any more of your gentle torture will drive me insane.”
“Then fuck me, Ashu.”
Ashur smiled, lifting me into his giant arms, and crawled onto the bed. He set me down with a gentleness that was a sharp contrast to the need radiating from him. Rolling to his side, he unfastened his buckle and pants. He pulled them down his long legs one at a time and then dumped them on the floor. His boxer briefs did nothing to hide the cock bulging against the cotton material. Next went his underwear, and he was there in all his naked glory. His cock glistened with pre-cum, curving past his belly button.
How he kept all that delicious manhood in his pants was a wonder.
I licked my lips. I couldn’t wait until I got a taste of his velvety hard length in my mouth.
“Stop staring at my cock. I’m barely holding on as it is.”
“I can’t help myself.” I came up on my arms. “I want to suck you off.”