Page 37 of Revenge

Blood rushes to my face. I sink into the mattress feeling like dead weight. Every limb tingles with pleasure, but he’s not done with me yet.

Feather light kisses trail up my inner thigh, up the taut muscles of my stomach, along my breasts, stopping on my lips. He braces an arm on either side of my head, keeping the brunt of his weight from crushing me. His eyelids are heavy and his lips glisten with evidence of my arousal. It’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.

His tongue thrusts inside my mouth, a perfect mixture of him and the musky taste of my juices. My hands brace against his shoulders, running along his spine.

“I need you,” he whispers against my lips.

“Take me.”

He lines his hips up with my center and presses the tip of his length inside. Inch by inch, he fills me, stretches me, until I feel the bones of his hips digging into mine. “Fuck, you feel good.” He groans next to my ear.

“Oh god.” My heels dig into the mattress for better leverage. A slight bite of pain registers in my ankle, but I’m so lost in the moment I don’t even care.

Asher doesn’t just fuck. He dances with his hips, hitting me in places I never knew existed. I’ve had a couple of partners before him, but none have ever made feel like this. Every thrust hits me harder, deeper than the last.

Beads of sweat drip down our bodies as we become lost in each other. Lost in the moment. A few more deep-seated thrusts have him wringing another orgasm from me. It’s even more intense than the first and hits me twice as hard. My body bows and shakes with every swivel of his hips.

Asher continues pounding into me until we’re both lost in a fog of sensation. I feel the second he comes. A loud grunt fills my ears as his body tenses underneath my fingers and he twitches inside of me.

I’d like to say that we lie together and come back down from the high together, but that’s not what happens. The second he pulls back and looks down at me, everything inside me withers and dies. Something’s changed. Disgust is written all over his face.

“Fuck.” He’s pulling away, both emotionally and physically. He snatches up a pair of gray sweats and walks out of the room without a backwards glance.

I’m left in his bed, naked and alone, wondering what the hell just happened. This was something we both wanted. Or at least I thought we did. Never have I felt so dirty, so used. I dress and stumble back into my room, straight to the shower, noticing for a split second that the power came back on.

Cold water bites into my flesh the minute I undress and step inside, but I let it. I want to wash any traces of him off me.

Asher Savage is a royal asshole. A mistake. One I should have known better than to indulge in.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Asher

The second my head cleared and things came back into focus, I knew I was in trouble. I’ve crossed a line that shouldn’t have been crossed. I had to get out of there fast, so I grabbed a pair of sweats and went straight to the basement. It was a dick move, but things would have been much worse if I stayed.

Working up a sweat is the only thing that will put me at ease. I punch the bag until my knuckles are raw and bloody, but never stop. I need the pain. It’s what I deserve. Blood pumps in my veins, fueling me on. I’m angry, so fucking angry. Angry at myself for being weak. Angry at her for existing. For being a forbidden fruit I’m aching to sink my teeth into. I can still taste her sweetness on my tongue. She’s everything I shouldn’t want and yet I crave more. I’m a selfish bastard.

“You all right, big brother?” Zane leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, watching my every move.

“I’m fine,” I grunt out as I continue to pummel the fuck out of the bag, each hit coming harder than the last. My limbs are on fire and sweat drips down my chest, but I keep pushing myself.

“Doesn’t look like you’re fine.”

“Fuck off.” I’m not in the mood for his bullshit today. My head’s a fucked up mess as it is; I don’t need his psychology bullshit on top of it.

Quiet stretches between us as he continues to watch. I do my best to ignore him and focus on the target in front of me. Out of the corner of my eye I can see him shifting. My silence is killing him, but that’s too fucking bad.

“You can hate yourself all you want. It won’t change anything.” He can’t fucking let it go.

I stop mid-punch and drop my hands to my sides before I spin to face him. He’s gone too far. It’s time I put him back in his place. “Don’t fucking pull that shrink shit on me, Z.”

“I’m not.” He looks hurt, but I know better. I can see through him.

“Yeah, you are. I was a cop, remember? I can smell that bullshit a mile away.”

“We’re just worried about you, man. From the time you got out we’ve done nothing but watch you self-destruct.” He toys with the end of his beard, waiting for me to lose it.

“I’m a free man, so quit worrying about me.” Blood drips down my knuckles and onto the mat, but I don’t feel a thing. I’m numb. Desensitized to it all. Hit after hit, I exhale and take it all out on the bag.

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