Page 136 of Twisted Truth

“I think this needs a hands-on approach, don’t you?” He squirts body soap into his hands and rubs them together, then places them on my ribs, and starts massaging it in, working his hands up, up, up. “Your brain is computing, yes?” he asks when his hands are at my ribcage, just below my breasts.

“Yes?”

“Is that a ‘maybe yes’ or a ‘yes, yes’? I’m playing pretend gentleman, and pretend gentleman has realized he must stop his ministrations here if damsel is in fact in distress of mind and not thinking clearly.”

“Damsel’s mind is clear. Damsel’s body feels like double its weight. But the brain fog faded with the blessing of the coffee.”

“Fuck, yes.”

Asher’s hands slide up, cupping my breasts, and squeezing them lightly. He washes them several times before declaring them clean. Then his hands slide . . . down. They curve over my ass, where they squeeze and explore, sliding luxuriously with slippery soap.

I can’t take it anymore. I slide my hands up and thread them in his wet hair, giving it a light tug. How does this man undo me so quickly? I’m not this girl who just jumps into sexual encounterswith men. I’ve always been too reserved, too cautious, and a bit self-conscious. How is it that he just barges past my barriers as if they don’t exist?

A second later his lips are at my throat. He places a soft kiss at the juncture of my neck and shoulder and I let out a quiet, gasping breath. His teeth graze my neck, then bite and suck and kiss as he makes his way up to nip at my earlobe.

I slide my hands down his back and over his perfect ass. He directs me under the water from the neck down, rinsing the soap off of me. Then his hand curves around to my front, slipping down my stomach and to my core. His finger brushes my clit. I jump at the sensation.

“You’re going to make me completely boneless,” I whisper. “How will I stand?”

“I’ll hold you.”

He rubs my clit, still gently, but with more pressure. My traitorous hips buck, begging for more. He slides a finger inside me and presses his palm against my clit. God. The need for friction is too much to ignore, and I shamelessly grind against his hand.

“Yes. Fuck yes, Ella.”

He slides another finger inside me, curving them, hitting that perfect spot, and I give up on all my reservations. This damn man is too good at this. We begin to work together, him moving his fingers and palm in time with my grinding hips, and I’m soon lost in the pleasure of it. There is nothing outside this shower. There is only him and me, and the feeling of his fingers inside me, and his other hand on my breast, as his thumb teases my nipple.

I wrap my arm around his neck to hold onto him as I reach my other hand out to grasp his bulging erection. He hisses and bucks his hips forward as I glide my hand down his shaft. I stroke him lightly at first, then tighten my grip and stroke him harder and faster.

And then we’re lost to one another. Foreheads pressedtogether, fractured breaths mingling, we both give and receive pleasure while nothing exists outside of us. My pussy clenches around his fingers as he slides in a third finger and fills me to the brim. I run the pad of my thumb over the head of his cock and then stroke him long and hard again. I’m growing closer, and I can tell he is too. We’re both desperate for release, both increasing speed and intensity in our ministrations, moving in tandem as if his cock was inside me and not his fingers.

“I’m almost there,” I breathe out.

“Come for me, Ella,” Asher growls.

And I do. His words tip me over the edge, and my orgasm burns through me in wave after wave of pleasure. I stroke him two, three more times, and he comes with a shout that he cuts off by biting into my shoulder. His cum sprays all over my chest, warm and gushing, and the baser part of my mind can’t get enough of it—of him marking me.

“Fucking hell,” Asher pants, staring down at my cum-covered tits. His eyes grow even darker, the irises blown black with fully dilated pupils. “Don’t move. Don’t you dare fucking move.”

His hands grip my hips possessively as his eyes roam over me, greedy, taking in his work.

I run my middle finger delicately down over my breast, tracing my way through his cum, rubbing it over my nipples.

“Fuck,” he growls.

“Do you like to see your cum all over me? All over my tits?” I whisper, still sliding my finger down, now near my belly button.

“God, yes.”

I rub my clit with my cum-covered finger. Ready for round two. Asher hisses something else, but I can’t make out what he says. He drags me to the stone bench on the other side of the shower and sits me down on it. He turns on the shower head on this side of the shower, but the water doesn’t hit us, and heturns the handle all the way to hot so that the steam will heat the oversized shower and keep us warm.

Then he lowers himself to his knees.

“I want my mouth in that cunt,” he growls, spreading my legs wide. And before I can say a word, he’s wrapped his arms around the backs of my thighs and spread my legs even wider. He presses his face into my center. “I want my mouth in that cunt while my cum is dripping down your perfect tits,” he says, between sucks and licks.

I lean back against the wall, my head thrown back, my fingers laced through his wet hair as I grind into his face. That only spurs him on more, and soon, his fingers are inside me again as he sucks and licks me. Then his fingers are gone, and his tongue is inside me. He alternates back and forth, bringing me to the brink twice before he changes tactics.

“Please,” I plead. “Please, Asher!”