Page 39 of The Influencer

“Fuck,” I growl before grabbing his cock and taking it straight to my throat. I cough around it in my eagerness but adjust quickly as he bucks beneath my mouth.

“Asher…shit...”

Hearing his soft voice gives me chills, memories of wanting so much more than his nipples the other night rise at the sound of him—he barely even sounds like a man in bed, and I love it. His sighs are feminine and sweet, his voice higher and almost innocent. Erotic. It’s delicious—the contrasts of him. The hard body, the soft golden hair on his arms, and the immaculate wax job on his balls. The skirt, the boots, the leather and satin. I’m obsessed.

I suck his dick like I’m the one being paid, giving my full attention to each reaction I pull from him with my mouth. Every move he makes, every gasp, every twitch of his dick has my cock so hard it aches. Giving him one final suck, because I can’t take the pain anymore, I crawl up and over him, planting a kiss on his parted lips and grinding my erection against his.

“You taste like candy,” I tell him. “Saltwater taffy.”

He grins. “That’s a first.”

“Oh, good,” I smirk down at him. “What do I taste like?”

“Hundred-year-old scotch.”

“You’re a filthy little liar.”

“You taste like a big, sweaty man with a hint of desperation.”

“Just a hint?”

His face explodes in the most radiant smile I’ve ever witnessed. The giggle that bubbles from his chest is beyond sexy, it makes me feel like I’m burning alive. Urgent need thrums through me like a drum beat as I swallow his laugh and his mouth with mine. He finally pulls his arms out of the lascivious pose he’s been in and hugs me to his chest as his hips rut up against mine.

Suddenly, nothing is funny anymore. I need to fuck him. I need to release all this pent-up lust searing my veins and poisoning my mind. I need… I need… lube.

I tear my lips from his and whisper in his ear. “Is it possible to make lube sexy?”

“Lube is always sexy,” he replies, reaching for his nightstand, his long arms able to manage it with only a slight shift beneath me. He hands me a decorative glass jar with a gold pump top.

“Let me guess—gift from a fan?”

He laughs softly again and shakes his head. “Bought it myself. Etsy.”

“It’s very nice.”

“Wait till you feel it.”

I take the jar from him and push myself up to my knees. There can’t possibly be anything remotely alluring about me having to squirt several pumps of the cold gel onto my palm, but when I glance down at him ironically, he’s gazing up at me with hooded green eyes and parted lips, his chest moving with heavy breaths. I set his fancy lube dispenser back on his nightstand and slick up my latex-covered cock before running two fingers through his crack. He bites his lip and lets out a whimpering sound I doubt he meant to make. It’s uncharacteristically desperate.

Taking hold of each of his ankles, I lift his feet, boots and all, up to my shoulder level, aligning my cock with his rosebud of a hole. I’ve yet to find a single physical flaw on this man’s body. “I intend to fuck you now. In the ass.”

“It’s your ass tonight,” he says, I guess to remind me that I’ve pre-paid for the privilege. Still. I like the sound of it. My ass.

He reaches down to hold his cock and give it a few slow strokes.

Stay cool, Ash. Go slow. Take your time. If you’re gonna burn in hell for this, at least make it good.

Hell won’t be much hotter than this anyway. The ring of my Prince Albert nudges his hole, and a shudder rolls through me, the increased sensation of that one piercing far outweighs all the others. I nudge again, but his tight ring of muscle doesn’t give.

“You have to mean it, Asher,” he says.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I breathe, staring at my poised cock and his gorgeous entrance. The sight alone is enough to fry my neurons.

“You won’t. I can take a lot.”

Like I needed that reminder.

But I guess it helps, because on my next thrust, I put more intention behind it, and he opens.

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