Page 57 of The Best Men
“Finish us off,” he growls, then he grabs my palm, drizzles some lube in it, and guides my hand to our dicks.
I won’t last more than thirty seconds.
But I don’t think he cares. The second I wrap a hand around our cocks, pleasure twists in me.
And I learn something brand new?two dicks are better than one when jerking it.
As my body overheats, I take over the double hand job, my fist flying up and down our lengths, fast, determined.
And fueled by him.
His mouth hangs open, and he braces his hands on the wall behind me. “Fuck yes. So good. Want to come on you.”
Done.
Consider it done.
My orgasm steals all my brain cells. I come so goddamn hard in my hand, shooting on his abs.
“Yes . . .” He grunts and he’s right there, seconds later, painting me.
11D. That's where my fantasy has always ended. On finishing. That’s all.
But my reality gets better.
Letting go of us, I step closer and cup his face under the water, then capture his lips with mine. I try to tell him with my kiss that I can definitely stand him now.
* * *
After I get dressed, I meet Asher at the door of the guest house. He doesn't even bother to bust my chops about my shorts. They’re navy.
“Question for you, Banks,” he says, focused. “About your single-malt-scotch-fueledtext fest.Remember that one?”
I groan. Here we go again. “I thought we’d already clarified all the points in the text.”
He claps a hand on my shoulder as we walk past the pool, toward the house. “Nearlyall. And they’re all in theI was rightcolumn,” he says, clearly delighted to poke and prod me again. But admittedly, I like our new style of poking and prodding, since it involves the use of body parts. “But there is one more little thing I wanted to address, since we sorted out theblow jobhair and thestupidly hotlips last night.” He draws a deep inhale. “You referred to me as, and I quote . . .like a fucking comic book hero in those graphic novels I used to read.”
I don’t bat an eye. “Yes, Asher?”
He taps his chest. “If I’m Superhot Wingman, what’syoursuperhero name?”
I stifle a laugh. “And why do you think I have one?”
“You do, Banks, you do. Do you want me to play dirty to get it out of you?”
Playing dirty sounds like a great game. “I mean, if you think that’ll work,” I deadpan.
I bet it works. I bet it works so well.
Asher stops at the sliding door, grabs the back of my neck, and plants a scorching-hot kiss on my lips. Jesus. This man can kiss. When he breaks it, his lips are inches from mine, and he drags a thumb along my jaw. “Soooo.”
My head is a daze. “Captain Filthy Mind,” I mutter, since his kisses are my truth serum.
Asher laughs, and even his laugh makes it sound as if he’s just had sex. “Perfect. So fucking perfect.” As we resume our pace, he says breezily, “And by the way, for a split-second yesterday when I mentioned we’d hit errand 2A, I thought tasks got you all hot and bothered, but then I realized 2A wasn’t an errand. It was . . .me. And now that I’ve seen the world’s greatest list, I can confirm 2A wasyouputting your mouth all over me.”
Oh, he’s good.
Then Asher adds, “For the record, 2A was excellent.”
