Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
“Your eyes are big, Maeve,” he says, his voice a teasing drawl now.
You’d think walking in on someone in the midst of his self-care would give you the upper hand. You’d be wrong. This man holds all the cards. There’s not a shred of embarrassment on his face. Not a single sense of embarrassment that he was caught in the act.
I only see challenge in his irises. Heat. White-hot desire.
“Are they?” I finally reply to his question about my eyes.
On a tight, firm upstroke he rasps out, “Fucking huge.”
His fist curls tighter around his cock. Strokes faster. He’s unabashedly naked. He’s shamelessly aroused. He’s mercilessly jerking off.
And I am one frayed, sparking nerve as I watch him in the dimly lit bathroom, the rainfall shower cascading over his huge frame, his hand taking a tour of his erection, over and over.
I burn from head to toe. I tingle in every cell. My bones melt. My pulse pounds. My thighs shake. I’ve never been more aroused in my life than right now as I stare at my best friend jerking off to me. At me.
I’m so soaked I could shove a hand inside my panties and fly off in one, two, three strokes. Absently, I bite my lip.
He smiles, a lazy, lopsided smile, then tips his chin. “You like the show, wife?”
A tremble takes my body hostage. “I do,” I manage to say.
“You were watching me for a while, weren’t you?” He challenges as his fist flies faster.
“A minute. Maybe more,” I say, breathlessly.
“Long enough to know what you like.”
“I like this.” But that’s a lie. This is more than like. I’m absolutely enchanted by the way his hand shuttles along his erection, by the punch of his hips, by the rippling of his muscles.
“Good,” he mutters as his dark green eyes tour my body like I’m the only one he’s ever gotten off to. “So fucking good.”
His big shoulders shake. His hand grips tighter. I’m so jealous of that hand. I want that hand to be mine. To be my mouth. To be my body.
I’m obscenely wet. My panties are a waterpark as Asher slaps his other palm on the glass shower door. “You like to watch.”
It’s a statement not a question, but still, I nod. “I do.”
“You want me to finish?”
“Yes, please,” I say, and it’s like I’m begging.
Because I am.
With hard eyes and choppy breath, he fucks his fist. And when I say fuck, I mean fuck. His hips jerk, sharp and fast. And powerful too.
He fucks into his hand, his jaw tightening, his chest heaving, his filthy gaze locked on me.
The object of his desire.
Another pump.
His eyes squeeze shut.
One more.
Then, his whole body jerks as he tips his head back and groans a long, guttural, “Maeve.”
Did I just come in my panties?
Almost. Fucking almost.
Because that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, ever heard, ever experienced—Asher spilling his release all over his hand as he grunts my name. It takes every ounce of self-restraint not to shove my hand inside my panties and rub my aching clit till I come too.
But this is a show. This is a game. This is some kind of negotiation. And the man is in charge.
I don’t know who’s supposed to make the next move in this friendship-with-benefits game we’re playing, so I wait till his breathing slows, his chest stops heaving, and he opens his eyes. He tips his chin to the door. “Go wait in bed, Maeve.”
And I fly out of there, the memory of his pleasure seared forever on my brain. Along with the question—did he want me to walk in on him? He was warned by my friends to lock the door after all.
33
COUNT FOR ME
Asher
After I drag a towel through my hair and halfway dry off my body, I cinch it around my waist, not caring that droplets of water slide down my chest.
Only one thing is on my mind—the gift I bought her.
I leave the steamy bathroom and return to the bedroom where the sight of Maeve steals my breath. She’s so fucking obedient. Maeve’s lying on the bed, propped up on a mountain of pillows. Waiting eagerly for instructions.
Her expressive hazel eyes flicker with obvious excitement. No, there’s downright dirty glee in them. I stride over to the foot of the bed, press my palms on the mattress, and meet her gaze. “Nothing physical, right? Those are the rules?”
Her brow knits. She’s clearly confused as she asks, “Um, yes?”
“And did you break them tonight?”
She nibbles on her lip, then asks, “No?”
I stare sternly at her. “Did you touch me?”
The hint of a smile appears. “No.”
“Did I touch you?”
“No.” She sounds both desperate and emphatic.
I let my gaze roam down her body, settling on her leggings. They’re purple. Nylon probably, and I’d be willing to bet, the material is damp between her thighs. “Open your legs.”