Page 41 of Nothing to Fear
Asher sits at my desk while I lie on my stomach on my bed. We’re supposed to be preparing for a test, and I know it’s important for both of us to do well, but I can’t stop looking at him. It’s all so surreal.
Asher Ambrose is sitting at my desk.
In my dorm room.
“I can feel you staring,” he says without looking up from his book and notes.
“Do you blame me?” I reply as he gets up from his chair and walks up behind me. I start to turn over as he steps out of view, but his grip on my thighs holds me down.
“Don’t move.” He’s using that deep, authoritative tone that drives me insane. I push my computer forward and drop my head on the bed.
“I didn’t tell you to stop studying,” he says as his fingertips dig into my thighs, massaging the tight muscles there. I normally see the athletic trainer or the massage therapist at this point in the season, but I’ve been too preoccupied to go. My muscles are feeling the impact.
“Mmm. That feels too good, Ash.”
“Study. You need to focus.”
I pull my laptop back down in front of me, holding myself up with my forearms to study while Asher works his magical fingers into my glutes. I practically buck off the bed with how good it feels. He works over the muscles, returning to my thighs and calves.
The words in front of me blend together as my body completely relaxes. As his hands move upward, he scoots higher, thumbs pressing deep into my lower back.
“Oh fuck.”
“You’re so tight. Just relax for me. Let me take care of you.”
His words steal the breath from my lungs, and I nearly start crying right there. I’ve never heard them before. Not even from my parents. They’re great, but they’re preoccupied. They’ve always been preoccupied. We had nannies and chefs growing up and were sent away to boarding school. I’ve been on my own for as long as I can remember. Hell, my own dad is on campus with me daily, and he has no idea how much I’ve been struggling.
My heart trips over itself, and I know it’s too soon, I know it’s ridiculous, but I’m falling for Asher. I think a part of me fell for him the first day I met him freshman year. So much wasted time when I could have been here all along.
After Asher has practically put me in a coma with his talented hands, his fingers dip into the waistband of my joggers, pulling them down my legs and tossing them off to the side.
“Commando, huh?”
“Like you said, I should try freeballing it sometime.”
His hands palm my ass, squeezing and massaging as his chuckle reverberates through his body.
“You look wicked good, Si. Like a fucking buffet laid out in front of me. And you know what?”
“What?”
“I’m starving.”
His strong hands spread my ass cheeks, and then his mouth is there, hot and wet. He licks up my center, moaning as he goes. My fingers dig into the sheets below me as my breathing starts to come in heavy pants.
“You taste better than I imagined.”
Jesus Christ, is he serious? I’ve always wanted to experience this, but how do you ask a one-night stand, a random hookup, “Hey, want to give me a rim job?”
Asher eats my ass like his life depends on it, and there’s nothing I can do but hang on for the ride. My cock is impossibly hard, thick, and straining between my abdomen and the mattress. I know I’ve got to be leaking like a sonofabitch.
His warm tongue flicks against my hole as I press back against him, wanting more. Asher pushes against one of my thighs, pressing it up and outward so I’m more open for him.
“Fuck, look at you. Your asshole is glistening, baby.” His words shoot straight to my throbbing dick. Then his thumbs are there, swiping back and forth over my hole, stimulating the area. Pleasure pulses through me like a live wire.
“Tell me to stop if you don’t want this, Si—at any point—otherwise I’m going to keep going.”
“Don’t stop, I need you.” Desperation is thick in my tone, and I’m not even ashamed by the whiny way it comes out. I am desperate for him. Desperate for touch. Desperate to feel. Desperate to get lost with him. Desperate to just be me without the fear of everything else that weighs me down.
