“Yes,” I cry out, the orgasm tearing through me.
My muscles clench around him, pulling him deeper, holding him there. It’s too much and not enough all at once.
“Fuck!” he roars, his own release following close behind.
He shudders against me, his grip on my throat easing but not letting go.
We stay like that, locked together, riding out the waves of pleasure until we both collapse, spent and breathless.
“Goddamn,” he mutters, resting his forehead against mine. “That was...”
“Don’t,” I cut him off, shaking my head. “This doesn’t change anything.”
“Polly,” he starts, but I silence him with a look.
“Get dressed,” I say, pushing him away gently. “We can’t do this again.”
“Fine,” he grumbles, but there’s a glint in his eye that tells me this isn’t over.
“Goodbye, Ash,” I whisper, turning away.
I gather my clothes, feeling his eyes on me the whole time. This might have been incredible, but it’s not what I need. Not anymore.
“See you around…Poison,” he says the moment I put my cut back on, his voice tinged with regret.
My heart is still racing as I make my way back to Sydney’s tour bus, trying to shake off the lingering sensation of Asher’s hands on my skin.
This can’t happen again. It won’t happen again.
But despite my reservations, I can’t deny the small, treacherous part of me that wants nothing more than to turn around and run back to him.
I pull open the door to Sydney’s tour bus, stepping inside and letting it close behind me with a thud.
The air inside is cooler, a welcome relief from the heat outside.
My heart’s still in overdrive, and I’m trying to steady my breath.
“Well, well, well,” Dex's voice greets me. He's lounged back on one of the worn leather seats, a beer in his hand and a smirk playing on his lips. He looks too much like the Cheshire cat for my liking. “Look who decided to come back.”
“Hey, Asshole,” I mutter, avoiding eye contact as I make my way to the small kitchenette.
I need water. Something to calm my nerves.
“Interesting walk you had there,” he continues, taking a slow sip from his bottle. His eyes never leave me as I fumble with a glass. “Saw you with your ex. Anything interesting happen?”
“Nothing interesting,” I say flatly, filling the glass and downing the water in one go. I don’t look at him. Can’t afford to let him see the turmoil in my eyes.
“Is that so?” His tone is dripping with disbelief, but I ignore it.
“Yes, that’s so.” I turn and lean against the counter, meeting his gaze head-on.
My shirt’s ripped, and I know it won’t escape his notice, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of reacting to it.
“That’s funny,” Dex laughs, the sound harsh and mocking. “Considering your shirt’s ripped.”
I freeze, gripping the edge of the counter.
My fingers brush over the jagged tear near my shoulder, a brutal reminder of what just happened.