Page 79 of Wicked Temptations
No, I didn’t.
The truth was, I loved this. The easy strength in the way he carried me, the casual dominance of it. Like he could just decide to pick me up and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. My cock was already half-hard and getting harder by the second, and there was no way he hadn’t noticed it pressed against his shoulder.
He shouldered open the bedroom door and crossed to the bed in three strides. Then he dumped me onto the mattress with zero ceremony, and I landed in a graceless heap, ankle throbbing.
“Real smooth,” I said.
“I thought so.” But then he yanked his shirt over his head in one effortless motion, and I forgot how to breathe.
Ash had always been strong. I’d felt it every time we’d fought on stage and every time he’d grabbed me backstage. But seeing it was different. The way his muscles moved under that golden-brown skin, the shadows cast by the dim light from the hallway. Broader shoulders than mine, a defined chest, and abs that looked like they’d been carved out of something solid.
Jesus Christ.
“You done staring?” He sounded smug.
“Fuck off.” I pushed myself up on my elbows. “Get over here.”
“Bossy.” But he moved, kneeling on the bed. His hands went to my sweatpants and started tugging them down. “Lift up.”
I did. He got the waistband down over my hips, pulled until the fabric bunched at my knees. Then he hit the moon boot and stopped.
“Shit.”
I’d been managing the damn thing myself for three days. Taking it off to shower, to change, to sleep. Struggling through every mundane task like a fucking invalid. The Velcro straps, the awkward weight of it, the way I had to brace myself against the wall just to get my pants off. It took forever and always left me in pain and humiliated.
God, I hated that damn shoe. “Just take it off.”
“You’re supposed to keep it on.”
“Ash.” I kicked at him with my good leg. “I don’t give a fuck. Take it off.”
“No.” He grabbed my ankle, gentle despite the firmness in his voice. “You’re not making this worse because you’re horny.”
“I’ll make it worse if I want to.” That was very adult of me.
“Yeah, well, I’m not letting you.” He tried pulling my sweatpants down further, but there was no way he’d get them over. He growled in frustration. “These are staying on.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” He hooked his fingers into my underwear, pulled them down without any fanfare, then slipped them off my left leg. They joined the sweatpants in a tangled mess around my right calf, trapped by the boot. “There. Good enough.”
I stared down at myself. Half-naked, pants and boxers dangling off one leg like some kind of deranged striptease gone wrong. “This is ridiculous.”
“This is happening.” His hands went to his own jeans, popping the button. “Deal with it.”
Well, damn, when he put it that way...
I watched him shove his jeans down, taking his boxers with them. His cock sprang free, already hard, and my mouth went dry. I’d been too stubborn to admit I was obsessed with his cock before, but now that I got to see it properly see and him—no shirt, no holsters, or makeup in the way—I couldn’t stop myself from licking my lips and sucking in a needy breath.
He kicked his clothes aside and then he was on me, hands on my hips, dragging me down the bed until my ass was right at the edge. He took a moment to reach down and grab something from his discarded pants. It crinkled in his hand, and it was stupid and risky and dumb, but my heart broke a little over the idea of a condom. After all, it was a bit late for that. We’d already rawdogged it multiple times, which was probably something we should talk about.
Thankfully for my spiraling head, though, it was just a packet of lube. He dropped it next to me on the bed, then pushed my legs apart.
“Hold on.” He grabbed my good leg, positioned it over his shoulder. Then he carefully lifted my injured leg, mindful of the boot, and got that one settled too.
The angle folded me nearly in half. I was completely exposed and laid bare for him. I knew my face was burning, but I didn’t look away from him. I couldn’t.
“Better,” he said. Then Ash wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking himself slowly as he looked me over. “Much better.”
