Page 17 of Fatal Vengeance

I swallow down the groan that tries to slip out of me, turning to catch his eye again. "I'm good. Keep going," I beg roughly. "Fuck me, Asher."

The smile he rewards me with is all filth and sex and sin, and then he slowly rolls his hips, thrusting in inch by inch, until finally, he's bottomed out inside me. My knees can hardly even hold me up, my legs trembling from the intense, full, and perfect feeling of being filled like this. Years and years of knowing I was bi-sexual, fantasizing over guys — and more specifically Asher — and I've never actually been fucked. The only guy I've been with like this is Asher, and during that one drunken night, I did the fucking. Now I know what he felt that night, and goddamn, I don't know how he didn't become a fiend for this.

"I'm going to move now, okay?" he murmurs against my shoulder, pressing a kiss there before adjusting his feet, grabbing my hips, pulling out, and slamming back into me. The groan that tears from my throat is obscene, but the sound of our wet flesh slapping together as he fucks me is even worse.

Asher doesn't hold back now that he's in me. He gave me the courtesy of going slow while he stretched me, but now? All bets are off. He thrusts into me like a man possessed, groaning, grunting, and cursing under his breath all the while.

When he angles his hips differently and hits some place inside me that sets off fireworks behind my eyes, I slam my hand against the tile wall and bite my lip until it bleeds just to keep the scream of pleasure locked down. I brace myself with one hand on the wall and drop the other one to my dick, stroking it in time with Asher's powerful thrusts, and before long, liquid heat zips up my spine.

"I'm about to come," I pant.

"Fuck, me too," Asher growls, and not even a second later, he pushes deep into me and bites my shoulder to contain his roar.

I pump my fist up and down over my cock, high on the feeling of being filled with Asher's cum, and then my own orgasm rips through me like a hurricane. White ropes of cum paint the shower wall while I tremble and curse and nearly collapse from the pleasure.

We stand like that for a long moment, both of us just trying to catch our breath, his dick still buried inside me. Asher finally and slowly pulls himself out of me, and I hum contentedly as I turn around on weak legs and lean against the wall, not caring that I'm getting my cum on my back.

I grin at my best friend, glad to say he's so much more than that now. Asher returns my smile as he grabs the bottle of body wash again, holding it up in offering. "Let me wash you off?" he asks almost hesitantly, but there's no need.

I couldn't deny him a thing anymore. Not after he just fucked my soul from my body.

"Only if I can wash you too," I counter, and Asher breathes out a laugh and nods.

He gets to work lathering suds all over my body, his hands slow and exploratory as they glide across my chest and abs. When he circles my cock in his hand and gives it a few lazy pumps to clean it, I catch his wrist and stop him.

Asher arches a brow at me.

I shake my head, licking my lips. "Unless we're doing that again, don't tease," I tell him, though there's no mistaking the heat in my voice.

Asher sweeps his eyes down to his hand around my cock, giving it another stroke. "Can you go again?" he asks, even as my dick thickens in his palm, ready for round two.

"Can you?" I ask, letting go of his wrist and letting him stroke me. It's just too goddamn good, I can't say no. If he wanted to pin me in this shower for the next several hours and fuck me until the sun came up, I'd agree.

He breathes out a laugh, grinding his own hardening dick against me. "Oh absolutely. I have incredible stamina," he drawls with a smug smile, and a moment later, our mouths are crashing together all over again while our hands are grabbing and stroking, and I just know I'm going to be fucking sore tomorrow.

So worth it.

13

Prudence

Two days after my night in Genevieve's room, I’m having breakfast by myself, cursing my anxious brain for waking me so damn early, when Creed drags his feet into the kitchen and sits beside me. I spare him a quick look and a soft smile, loving the sleep rumpled look on him. Goddamn, he really pulls it off.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks me quietly as he leans in to kiss my forehead.

I shake my head, finishing the last of my cereal.

He watches me closely while I stand and cross the small kitchen, washing my dish in the deep sink. “We should go take care of your mom soon. I know that’s weighing heavily on you, baby.”

Thank god I’m looking down into the sink and not into his eyes, because my expression drops. I don’t even have to look at myself to know that I look devastated and on the verge of tears. I’m trying to stay strong, force my face into something neutral before I turn around, but Creed can read me better than I ever gave him credit for.

Warm, gentle hands wrap around my waist and he drops his chin to my shoulder, whispering, “I know, Ember. I know it hurts. Break if you need to. I’m right here.”

Damn him. If I wasn’t trying to keep myself together right now, I’d have melted in his arms. How does he manage to say the most perfect things?

I shut the water off in the sink and turn around, and Creed adjusts his hold on me so I’m tucked into his chest and he’s holding me close, one hand cradling the back of my head and the other rubbing soothing circles on my back.

“Do you think we could do it today?” I mumble, my cheek pressed against his chest so I can hear the calming and steady beat of his heart. “I’ve already put this off for too long. I know we have a lot going on, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling like the world’s worst fucking daughter.”

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