Page 67 of The Backup

My fingers twitch at my sides, and I take a shaky breath, my voice barely audible when I finally speak. “You’re…something else.”

His grin returns, slow and lazy, as his hand slides to my chin, tilting my face up. “And you,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, “are driving me crazy.”

The tension between us is electric, crackling in the silence as I let my fingers skim along the edge of his waistband. His breath catches, the sound sending a ripple of heat through me, and for a moment, I hesitate, caught between my nerves and the undeniable pull of him.

“Go on,” he murmurs, his voice rough and encouraging.

I glance up, and the look in his eyes steals my breath. Dark, intense, and completely focused on me, like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.

My hand moves on instinct, slipping lower, and his sharp inhale is all the confirmation I need. The heat of his skin beneath my fingers, the way his body tenses—it’s intoxicating, overwhelming, and impossible to stop.

“You’re killing me,” he says, his voice thick with restraint, but there’s a flicker of a smirk on his lips that tells me he’s enjoying every second of this.

His hips shift slightly, almost involuntarily, and the way his muscles tense beneath my touch sends a shiver racing through me. The heat between us is palpable, the air charged with something primal and unspoken, and it takes everything in me to keep my movements steady as I trail my fingers lower.

Finally, I slip a hand inside his briefs, the soft fabric giving way to the warmth of his skin, and pull him out.

My insides flip as I see him again, the sight both thrilling and a little overwhelming. I shouldn’t be surprised by his size—he’s already been inside me, after all—but somehow, I still am.

He’s hard, hot, and impossibly thick in my hand, and my breath catches as I take him in. My fingers move instinctively, wrapping around him as I marvel at the weight, the silky smoothness over unrelenting steel flesh.

“Asher…” I whisper, barely able to get his name out. “Fuck.”

His hand comes up to cradle my jaw, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. His eyes are darker now, heavy-lidded withdesire, and the way he looks at me—like I’m the only thing holding him together—makes my knees weak.

“Yeah?”

“You’ve got a porn star dick,” I finally laugh. “That’s all.”

“You’re full of surprising compliments,” he laughs, his voice like gravel, his thumb brushing over my cheek.

I bite my lip, unable to stop the small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “You don’t seem too upset about it.”

He chuckles, low and rough, the sound vibrating through me. “Upset? No. But if you keep looking at me like that, Sloane, I’m going to forget every good intention I ever had tonight.”

“You have good intentions with me? How sad,” I say, as I bring another hand to stroke him with both. Bringing my mouth to his tip, I add some saliva to the precum I’ve been spreading, and run my tongue up and down his shaft.

“Oh god, you look fucking sexy as hell, Sloane.”

His voice is rough, almost reverent, and the way his muscles tense beneath my touch sends a thrill straight through me. I wrap my lips around his tip, my tongue swirling slowly before I begin to bob up and down, finding a steady rhythm. I love that I’m making him lose control, watching him unravel piece by piece as I push him closer to the edge.

“So fucking good,” he groans, his voice dropping lower, rougher. His hand moves to the back of my head, not forcing but guiding, his fingers tangling gently in my hair. He’s big, almost too much to take, but I don’t relent, my determination only growing stronger.

“You like sucking my cock, Sloane?” he growls, his tone dripping with praise and possession.

“Mmm hmm,” I manage to hum around him, nodding slightly. The sound of my muffled response sends a shiver down his spine, and I feel the twitch of his length against my tongue. My absolutely drenched shorts are proof of how much I love it,my arousal pooling between my thighs with every deep, guttural sound he makes.

“Yeah, that’s it. Take me a little deeper. Oh, baby. Fuck yeah.”

His words ignite something bold and electric in me, a spark that catches fire. I move with renewed purpose, each motion deliberate, savoring every hissed curse and strangled groan that spills from his lips. The heat between us is overwhelming, consuming, and I’m drunk on the way he reacts to me, like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.

The tension in him builds, his hips lifting slightly, chasing the pleasure I’m giving him. His breaths are uneven now, ragged and raw. “You’re gonna make me—fuck, baby—don’t stop.”

And I don’t. I keep going, caught up in the power I have over him, the way his entire body responds to my every move, until he’s trembling beneath my touch, teetering on the edge.

“God yeah,” he says, his tone equal parts praise and desperation. “Oh, you take me like such a good girl…”

A soft noise escapes me, and his hand threads through my hair, his grip firm but careful as he guides me, his thumb brushing against my cheek. The way he moves is deliberate, measured, like he’s trying to hold himself back even though I can tell he’s close to snapping.

---