Page 100 of Faking All the Way
She whimpers, her head falling back to give me better access. “It feels so good. I’m already close.”
I guide her good hand between us, helping her find her clit. “Touch yourself. Get yourself off while you ride my cock.”
She does, her fingers working in tight circles. I can feel the movement, feel the way it makes her tighten around me.
I keep talking, dirty words spilling out of me. “That’s it. Get yourself off. Come all over my cock. I want to feel you squeeze me when you come.”
She nods, breathing hard. Her movements are getting erratic, chasing her release. “You come too. I want to feel it. I want your cum inside me.”
The thought of that, of filling her up with no barrier between us, hits me like a physical blow, and that’s it. I’m fucking done for. I come harder than I ever have in my life, the orgasm ripping through me. She hits her climax at almost the same moment, the two of us crying out together. I can feel her pulsing around me as I empty myself inside her, and it’s the best goddamn thing I’ve ever felt.
In the aftermath, I keep holding her tight against me. Kissing her face all over. Her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, her chin. Anywhere I can reach. She’s trembling in my arms, her breathing ragged.
When a tear slips past her eyelid, tracking down her cheek, a jolt of worry shoots through me.
“Shit. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
She shakes her head quickly, one hand coming up to touch my face in a reassuring gesture. “I’m okay. I promise. I just… I needed that.”
My throat tightens, emotions welling up inside me. I draw her close again, tucking her head under my chin. I can feel my cum starting to leak out between us, but I’m nowhere near ready to pull out of her. I don’t want to lose this connection yet.
Wrapping my arms around her, holding her as close as I can, I murmur roughly, “So did I.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Kat
A couple of days later, on Saturday, I’m at my art station working on the project I started for Asher. The image of him on the ice, capturing that moment when he looked so free and unburdened.
My hand is still bandaged and I have to adjust my grip on the pencil, which feels awkward and unnatural. The angle is all wrong, and I keep having to shift my hold to avoid putting pressure on the healing cut. But after taking a couple of days off from drawing, I couldn’t stay away any longer. I can’t go very long without picking up a pencil or brush. It’s like asking me not to breathe. My fingers get restless, my mind gets cluttered with images that need to come out onto paper.
When I glance over toward the guest house, I can see Asher through the window. He’s on the phone, pacing back and forth in that restless way he does when something important is happening. His free hand runs through his hair, and even from this distance I can read the tension in his body.
He’s been spending most of his free time over here at the main cabin lately. Hasn’t slept in the guest house for days,actually. We’ve been spending every night tangled up together in my bed, and I’ve gotten so used to waking up with him beside me that the thought of going back to sleeping alone makes my chest feel hollow.
But he goes over to the guest house sometimes to take calls so he won’t disturb me while I’m working. Which I appreciate, even though part of me wants him close all the time now.
The talks between him and the Aces have been getting very serious over the past few days. Working toward an agreement that everyone is on board with. There are a lot of little details that have to happen, apparently. Contract negotiations that go back and forth, input from his lawyer and agent, offers and counteroffers. All the business side of professional sports that I never really thought about before meeting him.
I bite my lip, my gaze following him as he moves around on the call. Even from here, I can see the seriousness in his expression as he talks. This matters so much to him.
It feels like something has changed between us, ever since that day he dropped everything and came to help me after I cut myself. The way he held my hand in the ER, the way he kept me calm when I was panicking… and the sex we had afterward.
I know it’s not really a big deal on paper that we didn’t use a condom, and haven’t since then. We both talked about it, we’re both clean and safe, so logically we’re fine. But it felt like more than just the practical decision of whether to use protection or not.
The feeling of him filling me up with nothing between us, the intimacy and closeness of it… I feel like I took away the barrier around my heart at the same time, and I’m not quite sure what to do about that.
I refocus on the drawing of Asher, trying to get the shading right on his jacket. I’m doing it entirely from memory, though by now I’m so familiar with his features that I know every detail.The exact shape of his jaw, strong and defined. The way his hair falls across his forehead when it’s not styled. The line of his shoulders, broad and powerful. The way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he really smiles, not just the polite smile he gives strangers but the real one.
As I’m working on getting the angle of his skate right, I hear the cabin door open as Asher comes back inside.
My heart jumps, and I scramble to hide the drawing, grabbing another half-finished piece to cover it. He comes into the room just as I finish the swap, and his brows furrow slightly.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, fine.” I’m probably acting a bit weird, but hopefully he’ll just think I’m focused on work.
He comes over to see what I’m working on, leaning down to study the landscape images that I was working on last week. “Looks great. The detail on the bark is incredible.”
