Page 80 of The Backup

“Please. I need it.”

The words fall from my lips before I can stop them, raw and desperate, and I can see the shift in his expression immediately. His smirk softens, replaced by something darker, hungrier, as his hands move to the waistband of his gray sweats.

“You need it, huh?” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing as he unties the drawstring with deliberate slowness. The soft rustle of fabric fills the quiet space as he inches the sweatpants down, his movements unhurried, as though savoring every second.

My breath catches as more of him is revealed, my heart pounding in anticipation. The sharp line of his hips, the tension in his thighs, and finally—him.

“Is this what you want?” he asks, his voice a little rougher now, his confidence radiating through every word.

I can’t look away. The sight of him steals the air from my lungs, leaving me dizzy with want. Heat floods my cheeks, and I nod, my voice barely a whisper when I manage to speak.

“Yes.”

His smirk returns, a little sharper this time, as he steps closer, his hands sliding to my hips to pull me flush against him. The heat of his skin against mine is overwhelming, and I grip his arms for balance, my fingers digging into the hard muscle beneath.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear.

I swallow hard, my voice trembling as I obey. “I want you.”

The low growl that escapes him sends a shiver down my spine, and his hands tighten on my waist, anchoring me in place. His gaze burns into mine, dark and unrelenting, as though he’s searching for something he already knows he’ll find.

“You’re going to have me,” he says, his voice a promise as his lips find mine, hungry and insistent. “All of me.”

“Mmm,” he groans, his voice low and rough as he presses into me, inch by inch, stealing the breath from my lungs. “It never gets old, taking you bare.”

The words hit me like a spark, igniting something deep inside. My nails dig into his shoulders, anchoring myself as my body stretches to accommodate him, every nerve ending coming alive under his deliberate movements.

There’s something primal about the way he says it, like he’s savoring every second, every inch, every sound I make. And I am making sounds—soft, breathless whimpers that I can’t control, that I don’t even want to.

I tilt my head back, my breath catching as he fills me completely, the stretch just on the edge of too much. His hands slide to my hips, holding me steady as he pauses, letting me adjust, his dark eyes locked onto mine.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, his voice raw with restraint, like he’s holding himself back for my sake. “Every damn time.”

A soft moan escapes me, and I grip him tighter, pulling him closer as I meet his gaze. There’s something in his eyes—intensity, hunger, and something softer, something I can’t quite name but that makes my chest tighten.

“It’s different with you,” he admits, his tone softer now, like he’s saying it more to himself than to me. “You make me lose my mind, Sloane.”

His words send a shiver down my spine, and I can’t hold back the small, breathless laugh that bubbles up. “Good,” I whisper, my voice shaky but teasing. “You’re not the only one.”

His smirk returns, sharp and knowing, and he dips his head, capturing my lips in a kiss that’s slow and consuming. His movements are deliberate, controlled, but I can feel the tensionin his body—the way his fingers tighten on my skin, the way his breath hitches with every shift of my hips.

“God,” he groans, his forehead resting against mine as he starts to move, each thrust slow and deliberate, making me feel every inch of him. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

His words send a shiver racing through me, and I cling to him, my nails digging into his shoulders as the tension inside me coils tighter, sharper, unstoppable. Every movement, every sound, every touch pulls me closer to the edge, until it’s all-consuming, a storm building inside me with no way to hold it back.

“Asher,” I gasp, my voice breaking as the waves crash over me. The world dissolves into white-hot pleasure, my body trembling as my orgasm surges through me, stealing my breath and leaving me utterly undone.

He groans again, his grip on my hips tightening as his pace falters, his own restraint clearly slipping. “Sloane…”

A few moments pass, the room filled only with the sound of our ragged breaths. His hands move to my waist, steadying me as he leans back slightly, his gaze locking onto mine.

“On your knees,” he says, his voice low and commanding.

I blink, my heart racing at the intensity in his tone, but I obey without hesitation, sliding to the floor as he stands.

The look in his eyes as he watches me is enough to make my cheeks flush, but there’s no time to be self-conscious. He grips the base of himself, his knuckles brushing my lips in a silent invitation.

“Finish me,” he murmurs, his voice rough with need.

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