Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
I bite down hard on Asher’s thumb, breaking the skin. He yanks it out of my mouth. I open my eyes to watch his eyes change from bright wolf green—-back to hazel.
“Come.” I shake his shoulders. The tears are falling fast now. “I need to come.”
I watch a flare of panic cross Asher’s face. That’s when I realize we’re not using protection.
Fate, what is wrong with me? I’ve truly lost my mind!
He slowly marshals the wantonness in his expression, the strong jaw turning steely, his eyes narrowing. He shoves into me and stops moving. I start to protest, but he slides the pad of his thumb to my clit, and I go over the edge with a shriek. I muffle it by biting into Asher’s shoulder as I come and come and come.
He remains stiff—heh—and unmoving, letting me grind and grind against his root until the last of my orgasm has been wrenched free.
The moment I’m done, he lifts me off his cock and drops me to my feet, then he fists his cock and aims it toward the sink.
The ropey muscles of his back bunch and tense, and then he comes, the ribbons of his essence washing down the drain under the steam of running water.
My brain clears. Asher’s so smart. I pant in barely more than a whisper, “Wash my scent off your dick.”
I turn on the sink closest to me and run water over my hands. I still can’t stop the silent tears over the helplessness I feel. The sense that my body betrayed me.
Asher turns, and his brows slam down. He reaches for me. I don’t know what he intends—to wipe my tears or cradle my cheek or some other such bullshit, but I’m not having it.
I slap his hand away and turn to pick up my panties from the floor.
I don’t make it there. Asher picks me up with an arm around my waist, and he throws me against the stall wall.
Two of his meaty fingers sink between my legs.
I gasp at the delicious sensation, my quenched need flaming bright again.
Asher closes the fingers of his other hand around my throat. His mouth crashes down on mine. I turn my head, but he chases my mouth, prying my lips open with his tongue. He lashes me with it, plunging deep into my mouth, simultaneously penetrating me in both places.
He’s angry, but I’m not sure why.
It doesn’t matter. I’m already in the throes of ecstasy. His cedar and soap scent drugs me as his fingers work their magic. He isn’t choking me, just holding me in place. Dominating me. Reminding me how powerless I am against him. If he wanted to fuck me in this bathroom for the next forty-eight hours straight, I’d submit, unable to refuse the potent pleasure he’s capable of wringing from me.
I clap a hand over my own mouth to muffle the cry of victory that issues from my lips as I reach my second peak. My internal muscles clamp around his fingers. I bring my own fingers there to press him in deeper and rub my clit.
“Go back to class, Asher,” I say through a clogged throat. My tears have stopped though. I guess eventually the pleasure outweighs the agony.
I’m still grinding on his knuckles as I give the command.
Asher takes his time easing out of me, his lips twisted into a cruel smirk. It’s made even crueler by the two dimples that make him Hollywood-worthy. It’s like my brain can’t compute that anyone that good-looking could also be such an ass. “All right, Ms. James. But I expect an A on that missing assignment.” He’s all swagger as he walks to the sink to wash my scent from his fingers. He looks over his shoulder at me. “And all other assignments henceforth.”
Asher
“Too much force!” Coach Jamison bellows as I run down the field, knocking player after player so hard I send them flying overhead.
He races down the field and grabs me by the helmet to get my attention. I slow my run to a stop, and he swings me to face him and gives the helmet a shake. “Put your wolf away, Asher. What has gotten into you? You can’t do that on my field. You’re at school right now.”
“I’m sorry, Coach.”
“What is going on with you?”
I shake my head.
“Don’t bullshit me. You got suspended for fighting last week. Now you’re back but seem to be looking for another round with someone. Am I right?”
I shake my head. “No, Coach. It’s not like that.”
“Well, how is it then?” He stares at me.
My chest feels heavy with his disappointment. Coach Jamison is the closest thing I have to a dad now, so when he’s up in my grill, I pay attention.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how hard I was hitting.” It’s not true but also not a complete lie. I wasn’t paying attention because I didn’t care. It doesn’t matter. No one out on our field is human. If I hurt any of them they will heal by morning.