Page 32 of One More Song

I’m no saint. I’ve been with my share of woman. The fucking video is proof of that. But I can’t remember the last time I was with someone when I was stone cold sober. When the need was driven by more than just getting off. I want Ember in a way I didn’t know existed. And it scares the fucking shit out of me. Because this thing between us ends one way - me leaving.

I pull back slightly and search her eyes. “You’re sure you want this? You know this can only be—”

She presses her fingers against my lips. “I know what this is, Ash. I don’t expect anything from you.”

Her words should satisfy my concerns, but they leave a hole in my chest, because there’s a part of me that wants her to expect more from me.

But when she arches toward me, her arms wrapping around my neck, my mind refocuses on the only thing that matters - her, in the moment, and making sure she doesn’t leave this room until all her needs are satisfied.

I kiss her, and she opens up to me. My tongue slips over her lips, giving in to the hunger, the voice in my head warning me that this won’t end well, drowned out by Ember’s whimpers.

She’s completely naked in front of me, and I’m still in my jeans, the thick denim chafing against my hard erection. Ember reaches for my belt, unbuckling it, but I stop her before she can undo my jeans.

“Not yet,” I murmur against her lips. I know the second they’re off, my self-control will be gone, and I’ll need to bury myself inside her. “We’ve got time,” I tell her, lifting her up and placing her on the bed. “I want to enjoy every inch of you.”

She whimpers when I press her knees apart and lower my mouth to the inside of her thigh.

“Ash.” She gasps when I cup her pussy, my thumb stroking her clit. I stroke the inside of her thigh with my other hand watching her writhe beneath me.

“God, you’re beautiful.” The words sound more like a growl even to my own ears. Primal. Feral. And I know this is more than just sex. It’s a claiming. A part of me marking her as mine. Or maybe it’s her making the claim, because I know I’m not walking away from her unscathed.

I need to keep my emotions reined. But it’s fucking impossible. Not when I glance up and catch those golden-brown eyes watching me. Something in my chest snaps, a feeling too intense to give name to.

“Please,” she begs, arching her hips against my palm, squirming under my touch.

I chuckle. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“Make me come.”

I obey. My fingers stroke, and rub against her pussy, penetrating just enough to make her beg for more, to have her whimpers filling the room, only drowned out by the music that’s blaring through the speakers.

Thank God for that. Because her cries get louder. I lick at her clit, her juices coating my tongue, my cock aching to fill her. Her pussy clenches around my fingers, her hips jerk, and I know she’s close.

“You’re so wet, sweetheart,” I groan.

Her eyes are wild, her cheeks flushed, her breath coming out as little pants as she grips my hair. “Ash.”

Fuck. I have to fight for control or I’m going to end up coming in my jeans like a hormonal teenager. But I don’t want to stop tasting her. The sensation of denying myself for her own needs is an agonizing pleasure.

My fingers are saturated with her juices, and I pull back, then thrust inside her again, deeper and faster until she’s crying out, slipping over the edge. I push her thighs farther apart, my tongue lapping at her juicesas she explodes in pleasure, back arching, body trembling, her response almost violent as the orgasm rips through her.

And I’ve never tasted anything sweeter. I can’t hold out for much longer. I can feel my body tightening, almost to the breaking point.

“Fuck, Em,” I groan, my tongue slowing its pace, easing out the last of her orgasm.

I shed the last of my clothes, all self-control gone, but fighting the urge to thrust deep inside of her, and just fuck her. She deserves more than that. And Iwantmore than that.

Thank God I’m too dazed for any self-reflection, because I know I’d probably scare myself shitless if I let myself think about what that actually means.

Chapter Thirteen

Ember

Dazed,I barely register Ash moving away from me, until he’s kneeling between my legs, naked, his hard, massive shaft in one hand. He strokes it, watching me, hunger burning in his eyes.

“Condom,” I rasp out, my voice not sounding like my own.

Ash nods, showing me the small foil package in his other hand. He uses his teeth to tear it open, then slides it over his length.

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