Page 71 of Twisted Truth

Soon, he lifts me from the counter to carry me to his bedroom. Our mouths continue to explore and claim one another as he walks. His hands grip my ass like they were made to fit it perfectly, and I wrap my legs possessively around his waist.

More, more,is all I can think, dizzy with need. More of him. All over me.Inside of me.The thought shocks me at how much I want it. I want every piece of him. I have no idea what’s come over me, but it’s like I’ve fallen off a cliff, and now that gravity has claimed me, I can’t stop.

He sets me down on his bed and leans down over me. Before I know what’s happening, his hands are on the bottom of my shirt, and he yanks it up over my head, then tosses it aside. He reaches behind his head and pulls his own shirt off, throwing it on top of mine. My breasts are half in, half out of my bra, and he fixes that little problem by unclasping it withone hand and practically ripping it off me. It also soars through the room, discarded like it’s nothing more than an obstacle that was keeping him from his prize.

“Fuck,” he growls, taking me in.

“Like what you see?” I say, sliding farther onto the bed.

His eyes land on mine. His throat works through a slow swallow. “You’re so beautiful.”

I want to reply, but my words are caught in my throat.

Asher’s eyes roam back down to my chest. “You have the most amazing fucking tits I’ve ever seen.”

I chuckle. “Are you sure? Maybe you should come investigate them more, for educational purposes.”

He grins, feral. He practically pounces on me, pinning me down to the bed. Then his mouth is on one breast, and his hand is on the other, and I moan, unable to stop myself.

I run my hands down the strong column of his back, and my fingers brush over a long jagged scar that runs diagonally along his lower back. I noticed it last night when his shirt was off, but I didn’t dare comment or ask about it. Not simply because it’s rude and none of my business, but because the scar is large and spans almost the length from his ribs to his waist. Whatever incident that caused a scar like this was major.

He stills for a second at my touch, so I quickly move my hands away, back to his upper back. That seems to be a safe place.

Asher switches, taking my other breast in his mouth, and moves his hand to the first one. His tongue circles and sucks my nipple, and his cock is pressed so hard against his sweatpants that it digs deliciously into my inner thigh. God, I could die a happy woman tonight.

I can’t take it anymore; I want to touch him. I run my hands down the front of him, over his abs until they’re at the top of his sweatpants. I slip one hand beneath the waistband and slide itdown until it brushes over his cock. Now he flinches under my touch, groaning and hissing with pleasure.

The size of him. Fucking hell, he’s huge. I can’t tell exactly how big over his briefs, but god, there’s a lot of him. I yank on his sweatpants, and they slide down over his perfect ass. He finishes taking them off for me, kicking them off the bed. His erection bulges against his black briefs, and, as our lips meet again, I can’t stop myself from running my hand over it again and again, squeezing, exploring.

Asher pulls his lips from mine and lifts himself up higher on his elbows, putting some space between us.

“Ella, if we don’t slow down, I’m not going to be able to stop,” he says, between panting breaths.

“Why do we have to stop?” I ask, because logic and reason fled my brain about five minutes ago, and I don’t see them reappearing any time soon.

He pulls away a little more and looks down at me. “I don’t want this to end up hurting either of us. It kills me to say this, but I still don’t think we should have sex.”

“You want to stop?”

“No. I don’t want to fucking stop,” he says through a groan. “I want to fuck you a thousand ways until you can’t do anything but scream my name.” He leans his forehead down onto mine. “But I worry what will happen if we do. But—I’m also not ready to be done. Can we . . . can we give each other some . . . release tonight? Just tonight? And then leave it at that?”

He pulls away slightly to look me in the eyes. His face is torn, almost sad and worried. Vulnerable.

“Of course.”

He lets out a breath of relief, and his eyes roll back into his head. “Thank god.”

Without another word, he rips my sweatpants off of me, and those also go flying through the room. His hands slide up myinner thighs, gripping, teasing, and he bends down and runs the tip of his nose along my center, over my panties.

He sits up on his knees and gently places his fingers under the elastic band at my waist. “Look at me, Ella,” he commands as he begins to slide my panties down my hips. His brows are raised in silent request. I answer by lifting my hips. He keeps his eyes glued to mine as he slides them all the way off. And then they make their own flight path through the room.

I lie bare beneath him, but the way his eyes drink me in, the way he breathes deeper now, the way his Adam’s apple moves when he swallows hard again, his tongue running over his lips, makes me feel anything but self-conscious.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers this time.

His hands run up my thighs again until he reaches my center. His finger brushes against my clit, making my hips buck.

“Is this what you want, Ella? Release?”