Page 31 of Blossoming Dahlia

I heard him groan, his hands tightening on my waist. “Anything you want,” he murmured in response, and I slid my hand down to capture his, pulling him through the crowd toward the door. I grabbed my phone as we walked, sending a quick text to Amanda to let her know I was leaving and who with, so she didn’t freak out when I didn’t come back.

The noise died off as the door to the bar closed behind us, and I kept a firm grip on Asher’s hand as I led him back to my apartment. The two blocks felt like an eternity, and, as soon as we reached the elevator doors, I grabbed Asher by the shirt front and pulled him in for another kiss, dragging him inside once the doors opened. My hand pressing blindly at the buttons, my mouth still attacking his. Asher pinned me against the side of the elevator, his hands cupping my face as he kissed me back just as fiercely. I heard the door slide open after a moment and pulled away to check the floor we were on. I pushed on his chest, guiding him out of the elevator and down the hall, digging my keys out of my bag while trying to remember my apartment number.

I struggled to put the key in the lock, Asher’s hands sliding up my sides and distracting me as mine fumbled with the simple task. Finally, I managed to get it unlocked, and we practically spilled into the room, my bag dropping to the floor as I kicked the door shut behind us. Asher paused for a moment, taking in the space around us, and I caught my breath, kicking offmy shoes to relieve my aching toes. I forgot that this was the first time he’d be seeing my space, and it felt weirdly intimate, probably similar to how he felt when I was wandering around his apartment.

Mine was missing the bookshelves of course, but what I was lacking in shelves I made up for in weird artwork that I’d painstakingly hung up all over every wall. My furniture was a mismatch of new and old, the old being tables and lamps that had belonged to my parents, which I’d been unable to part with after they passed. The new things were my bigger pieces of furniture, like my large purple couch and matching armchair, and the séance table I’d purchased at a flea market several years ago.

The random splashes of colors, the overly occult vibe of my knick-knacks and art, it was enough to give someone a headache. Personally, I loved it and I was proud of how my new space turned out. I couldn’t get a read on what Asher thought, however. He wandered over to study my print of Memento Mori, which I’d tracked down after falling in love with it during an Art History class in my undergrad. I walked over to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of whiskey I’d stashed in the cupboard, pouring out two glasses and bringing them over to where he was standing. I handed him the glass, and he took it absently, his gaze shifting to the other pieces of art hanging nearby.

“What do you think?” I asked nervously, his expression unreadable.

“It suits you perfectly,” he replied, smiling as he took a sip of his drink. “I can see a bit of you in everything here.” I smiled too, feeling my cheeks flush as his gaze finally fell on me, full of heat and intention.

“I’m glad you came tonight,” I told him, taking his hand and pulling him over to the couch. He sat down obediently, and Iperched beside him at an angle so I could still face him. “How are you feeling?”

“Perfect now.” Asher smiled, and I rolled my eyes, grinning along with him. I set my glass down on the coffee table and shifted to straddle his lap, undoing the buttons of his shirt one by one, revealing the motley of half-healed bruises along his chest. The one from the bullet was still the worst, and I traced along the edges with my finger, wishing I could somehow draw the pain out of his skin.

Asher set down his glass and tugged gently on the handkerchief on my neck, undoing the knot and slipping it off in one fluid motion. He stared for a long moment at the burns on my throat before cupping my face and pulling me in for a kiss. I slipped my tongue past his lips, tangling with his as I rocked on his lap, delighting in the little groan that escaped his throat. His hands moved to my shirt, undoing the buttons deftly and sliding it off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. His mouth traveled down along my jaw, pressing kisses in a hot trail over my skin. I didn’t feel it when he unhooked my bra, only noticing when my nipples hardened as the cool air washed over them. I rolled my hips, seeking friction as my clit began to throb with need.

Pulling me into a hug, Asher suddenly dipped me sideways, dropping me onto the couch and shifting until he was kneeling between my legs. His hands traveled back up to my chest, lowering his head to capture my nipple in his mouth. I whimpered, my hands tangling in his long hair as he sucked and teased it with his tongue, his hand palming my other breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers until I was arching into his palm. He finally released my nipple, shifting up to kiss me again as his hands moved to my shorts. He unbuttoned them and hooked his fingers in the sides, pulling them down over my hips. They ended up on the floor with my shirt, as did my thong, leaving me naked on the couch beneath him.

His eyes roved over my body hungrily, making my core clench. Putting his hands on my waist, he shifted me further down the couch, dropping his mouth to press more kisses to my stomach. He moved with an agonizing slowness, skipping over the place I wanted him most to kiss along my inner thigh, his teeth brushing my skin in a way that made me shiver. Finally he hooked my knee over his shoulder, drawing my thighs apart before he buried his face between them. I cried out when his tongue skimmed over my sensitive clit, nearly coming apart from just the barest touch thanks to all the teasing he’d been doing.

My cries seemed to spur him on, and he attacked me with his tongue, dipping between my folds and teasing my entrance until I was writhing underneath him, my hands tightening their grip in his hair. “Oh my god, Ash,” I whimpered, my hips bucking as he latched onto my clit, sucking it into his mouth. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled over me as my orgasm crested. Asher didn’t let up, drawing out the orgasm until my legs started to shake. When he finally came up for air, he grinned at me. I gave his hair a playful tug, dragging him back up so I could kiss him again. I fumbled with his fly as I tasted my own arousal on his tongue, shoving his pants down his hips impatiently.

Asher shifted up a little higher, and I whimpered against his lips when I felt the tip of his cock press against my slick entrance. “Please, I need you,” I begged, nipping at his earlobe as I spread my legs wider to give him better access. He hissed out a breath between his teeth and sank into me without hesitation. I gasped, clenching around him as he filled me inch by inch, bottoming out with his hips pressed flush between my thighs.

He paused for just a moment, capturing my lips in a fierce kiss before pulling out and slamming back into me roughly. I moaned as he hit a spot inside of me that had me seeing stars, and he took this as encouragement, driving into me again andagain. I could feel another orgasm building up in my core, and I dug my nails into his back. “Fuck, Ash!” I cried out, my pussy spasming around him as I came.

“You’re so perfect,” Asher murmured, slowing down as I shivered through the aftershocks. “Can you give me one more?” he asked, his lips trailing across my neck.

I gasped out a soft laugh, my chest heaving. “I don’t know if I can,” I replied breathlessly, but I could already feel the pressure starting to build up again.

“I bet you can, little flower,” he replied softly, shifting over to pull my knee up, pressing it into my chest so when he lowered back down, my ankle was thrown over his shoulder. The new angle let him go even deeper, and his next thrust had my eyes nearly rolling back into my head. His hand drifted between us, rubbing my swollen clit with his fingers. The combination was lethal, and it wasn’t long before I was whimpering, my pussy spasming around his cock as my third orgasm built.

“That’s it, come apart for me baby,” he murmured, thrusting hard and fast. His voice was tight, and it sounded like he was close as well. I screamed as my orgasm ripped through me, and Asher groaned while I was still riding it out, his own orgasm catching him at the same time.

He released my leg, but made no move to get up from the couch, hovering over me, pressing kisses across my chest while I ran my hands through his hair.

“That was…” I murmured, blushing a little at the thought.

“Perfect.” Asher grinned, pressing his lips to mine.

He was right, this was pretty perfect.

Epilogue

Six months later

“Can anyone tell me which deity the Cult of Medea was centered around?” I asked, my voice ringing out as I stepped out from behind my podium. My class, which last year had been a small group of only 15-20 students, had grown to over seventy, thanks to my already infamous backstory. By my estimation, the sheer number of students in the cramped auditorium I’d been relocated to was closer to one hundred, which told me there were several people who’d snuck in to listen, since the class had filled up ten minutes after registration had opened. I swallowed my nerves and gazed around the room, waiting for hands to pop up. Finally, a student raised their hand, and I pointed to them with a smile.

“Uh, Medea?” he called out, and I bit back a laugh.

“No, unfortunately it was a bit of a trick question. Medea was never classed as a deity, she is simply a figure from the Greek myth. No, the cult actually centered around the Goddess Hecate,” I replied, and a few murmurs moved through the class.

“Now, here’s an even trickier question. Can anyone tell me what a modern day equivalent to the Cult of Medea might be?” More murmurs as I waited for someone to bravely raise their hand. One shot up in the far back, and I pointed to them. “Yes?”

“The Catholic Church?” a familiar voice answered, and I felt a grin creeping across my face as the class erupted into laughter.

---