Page 112 of Savage Grace

He reached up, taking my breasts in his hands and squeezing, thumbs padding over the peaks of my nipples as he did. My eyes fluttered closed, and I let my head lean back to rest on his shoulder while he played.

Ashe’s large frame caged me in, wrapped around me, enveloped me completely, and I had never felt more comfortable.

One rough hand continued to knead, switching between the left and right nipple, as the other hand snaked down my stomach and between my legs. He parted me with his fingers, finding my clit and circling slowly, and I sucked in a breath.

“All for me?” he arched a brow as he felt just how ready I was for him, still staring at our reflections in the mirror.

I nodded furiously, wanting him to go faster, harder—give me more.

“Yes,” I breathed out, barely able to complete the word as his fingers danced painfully gentle against my clit.

He pulled me harder against him, fingers working quicker and my breathing grew more ragged. I watched my face in the mirror, watched as the pink rushed to my cheeks. I was getting close, my thighs began to shake and betray me as Ashe pushed me closer and closer towards the edge.

“Look at you,” he whispered against my jaw, his eyes still locked on my reflection. “You going to come all over my hand, Princess?”

I nodded wordlessly as he rubbed and circled and flicked. The feeling of his cock pressing urgently against my back only made me more desperate, just knowing how much this man wanted me was enough to make me fall apart under his touch.

When he nipped at my earlobe again, I toppled over the edge. My whole body tensed, shuddered, and then went limp in his arms.

But he wasn’t done.

“You want more, darlin’?”

I nodded lamely again, because I wasn’t sure that I could speak yet. And with a chuckle, Ashe pushed me forward, bending me over the bench until my nipples met the cold porcelain of the sink, adding a whole new sensation into the mix.

“Good,” he growled before sinking into me fully.

A low groan escaped my mouth as he filled me. It was a sensation that I wasn’t sure I’d ever get enough of.

His fingers dug into my hips and he swore through his teeth. “Fuck, Zar.”

For a few sweet moments, he stayed like that, giving my body time to adjust to the size of him before he started to move. He pulled out all the way, before plunging back into me again. His movements were slow, but hard.

Sure and careful, but desperate.

Gentle and reverent, but rough.

Every thrust was delicious. Every movement had my eyes rolling back. I was panting before he even picked up his pace.

“Ashe,” I moaned, knocking whatever knick knacks and miscellaneous items he had placed on the bathroom counter as my hands splayed out in search of something to grip onto.

He leaned forward, taking my breasts in his hands and kneading roughly, nipping and biting at my neck as he did. He kept up with the steady rhythm, moving and hitting that spot just right with each buck of his hips.

“I want to fuck you forever, Zarina,” he said against my ear, sending a trail of goosebumps down my spine with nothing but his gravelly voice.

A pathetic little squeak of agreement was all I could manage. Because yes, I wanted him to fuck me forever. I wanted him to bend me over this bench after every shower. I wanted him to fold my legs over my head every time we got into bed. I wanted to ride him on the couch with reality TV playing in the background.

My vision was accompanied by little stars in my periphery and I clamped a hand over my mouth, biting down on the squeal that threatened to escape when I tightened and came again.

“Jesus, Zarina,” he growled.

Because this time, Ashe followed me over that edge, and with a deep moan that was becoming my new favourite sound of all time, he pulsed and finished and spilled into me.

We stayed like that for a bit, panting in time and trying to catch our breaths, before Ashe turned and put the shower back on, taking me into his arms once the water was warm and pulling me into the spray.

I stood there under the water, still a little orgasm-drunk and delirious while he rubbed me down with the soft wash cloth and soap that smelled like him. It was a masculine yet luxurious scent that lingered wherever he went.

Then he quickly washed himself down before hopping out, wrapping me into a fresh, fluffy towel, fastening one around his own waist, and throwing me over his shoulder with an effortless swing.

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