Page 106 of Faking All the Way
He sucks in a breath, his jaw clenching. But when I tease his cock a bit more, stroking lightly through the denim and feeling him get harder under my touch, he grips my wrist, stopping me.
He leans close, his breath hot against my ear. “Not here.”
A ripple of disappointment moves through me, but I nod, about to withdraw my hand.
He doesn’t let go of my wrist though, glancing around us subtly. Everyone is focused on the stage as Mrs. Fischer gives an enthusiastic introduction to the next song.
Squeezing my wrist lightly, Asher leans over and murmurs, “Come with me.”
He tugs me to my feet and leads me toward the back of the large barn, away from the rows of chairs and the performance, past the sound equipment and the stacks of hay bales and the Christmas decorations hanging from the rafters.
“What are you doing?” I breathe, confused but intrigued.
“I’ve been going out of my mind since you told me all those things you want to try,” he whispers. “And I can’t wait until we get home. I need you now.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Asher
Moving like a man on a mission, I lead Kat toward the back of the barn, my hand wrapped gently around her wrist. I scan the large, darkened space as we go, making sure no one is paying attention to us—which they aren’t, thank fuck.
In a shadowy area at the back of the barn, tucked behind some equipment and stacks of folding chairs, there’s a wooden ladder leading up to the hay loft. The space above is dim, tucked away from the main floor. Perfect for what I have in mind.
I tilt my head toward it, my voice low. “Up.”
Kat hesitates, looking between me and the ladder. Her cheeks are flushed, arousal gleaming in those gorgeous green eyes. Then she smiles, something mischievous and daring in her expression, and starts climbing. She’s careful of her injured palm on the rungs, and I follow right behind her, close enough to catch her if she slips.
We get up to the loft without being spotted by anyone, as far as I can tell, and I realize that the space is even more secluded than I expected. It’s dark and still up here, lit only by a smallwindow at the far end, with hay bales stacked around creating natural walls and barriers. The choir’s voices float up from below, muffled but still audible—which means they’ll also cover any little noises we might make up here.
The moment I’m certain we’re hidden, that no one can see us from below, I pull Kat against me and kiss her hard. She melts into me instantly, her hands clutching at my shirt as I back her toward one of the bigger bales. The hay is scratchy against my palms when I brace myself.
“I want to give you everything you asked for,” I whisper against her mouth before tugging her lower lip lightly between mine. “Every dirty thing you said you want to try back at the cabin.”
My leg slips between hers, her dress making way for her to grind against my thigh, and she hisses out a breath. “Fuck, Asher…”
I can feel the heat of her pussy even through the fabric of her dress and my jeans, can tell she’s already wet for me, and that knowledge goes straight to my cock. I grip her ass hard, both hands digging into the soft flesh, making her grind against my thigh even harder until she whimpers.
The sound is quiet but desperate, and my lips find her ear, nuzzling in her hair.
“We could do it right here. I want to blindfold you like you said. Bend you over this hay bale and fuck your ass.”
She shivers against me, her whole body shuddering in response. But I need more than that. I need to hear her say it.
“Give me your words, bright eyes,” I rasp. “Tell me what you want.”
She draws back to meet my gaze, her eyes hazy with desire, unfocused in that way that tells me she’s already halfway gone. “Please, Asher. Fuck me. I want you to blindfold me. To take my ass. Here. I can’t wait either.”
The raw desperation in her voice goes straight to my cock. I’m so hard it hurts, my shaft pressed tight against my jeans. I kiss her again, slanting my lips against hers. “That’s my perfect, dirty girl. So good for me.”
When I can’t wait any longer, when I’m about to lose what little control I have left, I guide her to the hay bale, turning her around and bending her over it at the perfect angle. I smooth her hair aside, tucking it over one shoulder, then loosen my tie with deliberate movements, working the knot free.
“Close your eyes.”
She obeys without hesitation. Her lashes flutter closed as she waits.
I slide the silk around her head, making sure it covers her eyes, tying it snug but not too tight. The sight of her like this, flushed and trusting and vulnerable, nearly undoes me.
“How does that feel?” I murmur.
