Page 37 of The Influencer

“You don’t need it either,” I tell him.

The hand still on my hip skates around to the small of my back and pulls me in. Our erections bump and slot into place next to each other’s. “Say that again?”

My cock throbs so hard I know he felt it, and I rise slightly onto my toes to brush my lips against his. I set myself back down on my heels and let him stare and consider the consequences of me for another second or two.

He licks his lips like he wants to taste me there. It’s so sexy. Such a move. If he were anyone else, I’d be all over him, my hand would be down his pants already, but I’m like—frozen.

Slowly, and I mean so slow it feels like a day and a half, he lowers his mouth to mine and returns the soft press of a kiss. But Asher doesn’t pull away like I did. He pulls my lower lip between his and teases my mouth open with long, sensual tugs. Fuck. My mind flashes back to the way he tongued my nipples that night, and I close my eyes as they roll back in my head. He licks a thin line across my lower lip, and I lose a measure of patience, taking over his mouth with my own with what amounts to a lunge upward.

He sucks in a breath, grabs me by the back of the head and sinks his tongue into my mouth. This. Yes. I moan, wrapping my arms around his back and my leg around his thigh. He grasps my ass in response, grinding our cocks together in one firm stroke that causes both of us to groan with want. He’s made up his mind, then, which makes me a thousand dollars richer and about a million times hornier.

While I’m conscious of the fact that his beard is going to leave a rash on my face, I kiss him back hard. Our tongues smash and lick, tasting and taunting each other’s. I’ve been kissed well in my life, but Asher is up there with some of the best I’ve had. And if he keeps squeezing my ass like that, I might have no choice but to give him the ride of his life.

His hand leaves my hair to run itself up the bare thigh clenched around him. He finds his way up to my hip and snaps the strap of my jock hard enough to get a grunt out of me. Then he palms my ass, squeezing the muscle, torturing it in his rough grip.

I tip my head back, breaking the kiss to take a much-needed breath and also offering free access to my neck. He takes it, devouring the skin in rough bites and strong sucks. He licks my earring and then pulls my lobe between his teeth. At the same time, he lifts me off the floor.

Reflexively, I wrap both my legs around his back, crossing them at the ankles, and my body rolls forward against his. God. Burying my face in his shoulder as he makes out with my neck, I inhale his soapy scent and the strong male pheromones he’s pumping out as I let him have his way with me, giving him what he paid for and all that, but part of me feels like I should be the one paying him.

I mean, I have a few concerns about how long we’ve been making out, and how much I’m enjoying it, but it’s nothing fucking someone else won’t fix. Live in the moment, Jade, I remind myself. Because this one’s fucking hot.

“Where’s the bed?” he grunts.

“You can take me right here if you want.”

“I want you on a bed.”

I mean, okay. I’ll be more comfortable anyway. I’ll just tuck the being bent over the couch fantasy away for another time.

Effortlessly, like I weigh five pounds instead of one-eighty-five, he slings me around until I’m riding him piggyback and pointing in the direction of my bedroom. He bites the forearm I have around his neck as he carries me down the hall.

When we pass through the doorway, he chuckles. “Typical.”

Ah, so he’s noticed my branding. Or maybe the fact that my bedroom is a film studio which happens to have a bed. “Player’s gotta play,” I say into his ear.

He sets me down and strips off his shirt. I take in the view of his big chest, linebacker-width shoulders, and fully expected but incredibly sexy chest hair. I mean, he’s not covered in it or anything, but I can’t remember the last time I was with someone who didn’t wax. It’s so… manly. I’m no twink, but right now I’m wondering if he thinks I am. But also, why does it matter? He’s clearly going to fuck me anyway.

“Take off your jock,” he says. “Leave the rest.”

“Even the boots?”

“Especially the boots.”

I slide my hands up my skirt and shimmy out of my jockstrap, my stiff cock bouncing against my abs as I bend over.

“You get one chance to change your mind,” he says.

I straighten up and frown at him. “That’s my line.”

To which, he unbuckles his belt, opens the fastening of his jeans, and reaches behind his waistband to pull out his dick.

“Oh, shit.” The world stops spinning.

“I’ll give you a minute,” he says quietly.

I put a hand on my chest and work to control my vital signs and, more importantly, my facial expressions as I stare down at his mutilated cock.

I’ve never seen anything like it. Not in real life, not in porn, not anywhere. “Uh…how many?”

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