Page 60 of The Influencer

I can only whimper in response, but what I want to say is same. Fucking same.

“Shit… Fuck… I’m gonna come,” he announces.

“Uh-huh…” I’m not sure I ever stopped coming.

An overwhelming and entirely unwelcome sense of emptiness makes me cry out in protest, but then Asher is grunting, and heat sprays my spine in sudden, repetitive bursts. “Fuck…aaahhhh…fffuuucckkk…”

My God, he just came on me.

“Let me see your face,” he says, his voice all deep and growly. I turn my head so he can see me.

After a quick swipe across my lower back, he stuffs two fingers between my panting lips. I suck them greedily as his golden eyes burn into mine.

“What do I taste like?” he asks.

He tastes surprisingly like milk, actually, and I almost laugh around his hand. But it’s so delicious, I lick his fingers clean before I do anything else.

He slides them from my clinging lips and pinches my chin. “Well?”

How is he still so fucking composed after that? I can barely piece a thought together.

“Sandwiches,” I murmur.

He spanks me, and I laugh. “Buttermilk. But like the way I want buttermilk to taste, not the way it actually tastes.”

He huffs a laugh, too. After another swipe down my spine, he sticks his fingers into his own mouth giving them a long, thorough taste. “Damn, you’re right.”

Fuck, that’s hot.

I flip over. The comforter is already coated in my own cum, so why not mix it up a little? He looks like a warrior all the way up there with his metal cock, his tattoos, and that stupidly sexy leather cuff. He stares down at me, and I don’t know how I’m looking at him, but he squints suspiciously. “Spooning costs extra, and you have to shower first.”

Is that how I was looking at him? Like I needed to be held?

Jesus, I need to get a hold of myself stat. There will absolutely not be any spooning of any kind happening in this mess of a bed. Not tonight. Not any night. “I’m broke,” I tell him.

He shrugs. “Your loss. I might be a shitty lay, but I can spoon like a motherfucker.”

I can’t help but grin. “I’m gonna hop in the shower, but don’t go anywhere, yet, okay?”

His brow lifts. “Why?”

“Because I’m sticky.”

“No, I mean why don’t you want me to go?”

“Because.” I roll off the bed and switch off some lights and cameras as I hustle into the bathroom.

When I come out, clean and fresh and wrapped in a towel, he’s dressed. Shoes on and everything, sitting on the non-dirty edge of my bed and looking pensively down at his clasped hands.

“It’s early,” I say, walking to my dresser to pull out some fresh underwear. “Keep me company.”

“Doing what?” he asks.

“Have you ever seen one of Gideon’s tour videos?”

“No.”

“I have all of them. You could see me dance.”

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