Page 45 of The Consequence of You
Her smile falters a little.
“Did he say something?”
“About?”
“About you being here?”
“Not really. Just that he was glad you’re having fun. Said he’ll be working out if you need him.”
Callie seems relieved, and I pass her one of the glasses of water before settling on the corner of the bed, opposite her. We both take a long drink, our eyes never leaving each other’s. Once our glasses are empty, I place them both on the bedside table.
Stripping off my shirt and trousers, I lay them over the back of her desk chair.
I cross the room and slide under the sheet and lift her quickly, so she’s straddling me. She has no panties under her t-shirt, and I can’t help but groan when I realise the only thing separating her warm pussy from my cock is the thin layer of fabric of my boxer shorts.
“Your hands are freezing!” she squeals as I grip her waist. Her bare skin has goosebumps covering it as I rub my hands up and down, trying to warm them, before quickly shoving my hands under her top and tweaking both her nipples. “You bastard!” But there is no real heat in her words.
She grabs a pillow from beside me and swats me with it, before jumping up onto her feet. I grab another pillow and jump down onto the floor before swatting her back. Before I know it, a full-on pillow fight has broken out between us. We pummel each other, and before long, my pillow splits and there are white feathers everywhere.Callie sneezes and it might be the cutest thing ever. Her nose wrinkles up and she barely makes a sound.
Our fight is playful and fun, and I thought her snippiness made me hard, but this side of her makes me even harder. It might be just a kid’s game, but my boxers are tented and my cock painfully stiff, knowing she’s bare under that t-shirt. We’re both breathing heavily as she goes to hit me again, but she’s too slow. Grabbing her pillow, I launch it across the room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CALLIE
My pillow hits the wall and falls to the floor. I’m not entirely defenceless though. I clench my fists, prepared to fight dirty if I need to, but Asher holds his hands up in surrender.
He kneels on the bed in front of me and the mattress wobbles under me. Clutching his shoulders, I steady myself.
Jesus Christ, the image before me should be illegal.
His broad chiselled shoulders, damp with a sheen of sweat, panting hard as he catches his breath. Blond hair falling over his beautiful forest green eyes, long lashes that women would kill for. His strong jaw has a five o’clock shadow where his stubble has started to grow through. He places his broad hands on my thighs and licks his lips. I’m slick between my legs just from looking at him like this.
Not for the first time, I wonder how we ended up here.Two people who don’t like each other, arguably, can’t stand each other, and yet… It feels so right. When we’re together like this, naked and sweaty and worked up, lost in this shared physical act, we… work.
I went without any physical relationships for three years after Nico. I could have been doing this the whole time. All this time, I could have found someone to exchange pleasure with. Never in a million years would I have believed this person would end up being Asher.
Last night I texted Rossi to tell him I had someone staying over. I didn’t want to risk him bumping into Asher in the hallway and putting a bullet between his eyes. I’m not even joking. Rossi’s under strict instructions to eliminate any danger to me, and he wouldn’t hesitate to act.
Obviously, he knew it was Asher that had driven me home after the art gallery, but I’m sure Rossi was still taken by surprise to see it was him that had stayed over. Other than Dahlia, I’ve never had anyone else in the house.
Asher slides his hands up my thighs, lifting my t-shirt until my pussy’s bared to him.
“Fuck, Calliope. This pretty pussy was made for me.” He nuzzles against me, and I try to take a step back, but he just grips me tighter and growls. “Don’t do that. Don’t run from me. This is my fucking pussy now, and if I want to spend my day with my face shoved in it, I will.” His words are possessive and so fucking alpha male, the feminist in me should be running for the hills, but like a wanton hussy, my pussy contracts, hungry for more. “See, even your sweet cunt knows it.”
His nose nudges at my clit and I shiver, unable to deny the way my body responds to his. This arrangement could work for both of us. For him, it may have begun as a wayof winding up his parents, but he’s clearly as affected by our chemistry as I am, judging by the boner he’s usually sporting around me these days. For me, it’s a physical release I hadn’t realised I needed.
My being in his life complicates things for him in a good way, and uncomplicates mine.
Asher’s ministrations have me on the verge of another orgasm, but this time I don’t fight it, I give in and allow myself to enjoy it. I lean into his touch, widen my legs and allow him to use his talented fingers and tongue in tandem. Before too long, I’m coming hard, digging my fingers into his shoulders as I brazenly ride his face.
Fuck, he’s so good at this.
When my orgasm subsides, Asher pulls away, his chin damp with my arousal, and the sight almost has me coming again. This beautiful man is on his knees for me, worshipping my pussy like it’s his life mission.
If this is the treatment he gives all the women he’s with, no wonder he’s so popular. An image of him on his knees for other women pops into my head, and I shake it off. It makes me feel uncomfortable in a way I don’t want to dwell on. He’s free to do as he pleases, as am I.
He looks at me like he has something on his mind.
