Page 4 of Stick Play

“I want that.”

He bites into the foil and quickly sheathes himself. “Even though it’s not a good idea?” he asks.

He’s right. It’s not. At least I know why it’s not a good idea for me. Why it’s not a good idea for him, I’m not sure. Not that I can consider it right now. Not when he’s pressing his crown against my opening and gripping my hips for leverage.

“Ash…”

“Still want it.”

“Tonight, Ash. Us. Just tonight.”

He gives a tight nod, understanding and agreeing with what I’m saying. I move my body and he pushes into me, filling me with his thick cock, and when his crown hits my cervix, my hard tremble practically moves the table across the floor. He stills for a moment, giving me time to get used to the fullness and when I put my arms around him, he tugs me to the edge of the table and begins to properly fuck me. I can only assume it’s properly, as it’s never felt this incredible before. Was I even having sex before Ash?

I hold on for dear life as he slicks in and out of me. His mouth finds mine, and he kisses me hard. I kiss him back with a hunger I’ve never before experienced. He growls deeply as I slide my hands down to cup his ass, and when he in turn slides a hand between our bodies to toy with my clit, I gasp for breath and burst around him.

“Jesus,” he growls, staying deep inside to give my sex something to clench around. I claw at his back as I concentrate on the points of pleasure and when I can breathe again, he presses his forehead to mine and whispers, “You good, babe?”

“Yes.”

He pulls out, only to power in again, and I hold him tight as he chases his own orgasm. I love how uninhibited he is, grunting and growling as he takes what he needs. Giving him full access to my body, I move with him, wanting his orgasm to be as powerful as mine.

“So good,” I murmur and my words must do something to him. He powers in once, twice, and then grabs my hips to hold on as he depletes himself inside me. “Ash.” I cry out his name as my body absorbs his hard pulses. He puts his head on my shoulder, his breath hot on my neck as he curses quietly. I can’t help but smile, loving that he seems to be as wrecked by this as me.

Ash backs up, removes the condom and pulls his pants up. “Stay put,” he commands, and walks back down the hall, his muscular body and tight backside holding all my attention. I take a few deep breaths, never having been so sated in my entire life. He comes back with a damp cloth and the second he steps between my legs to wash me, one word comes to mind.

Ash-hole.

Honestly, he knew what he wanted and took it, but he didn’t cross into alpha-hole territory at all, doing what he wanted without regard as to how his actions affected me. I mean yes, he took charge of my body, which I loved, but he also cherished me with his mouth, his fingers, his cock. He cared about my pleasure, and every fiber in my body reveled in that—maybe a little too much. Maybe Ash Wheeler isn’t an alpha-hole at all—maybe he’s a guy a girl like me could actually fall for.

Then again, I’ve been wrong before.

2

Ash

February, All Star Weekend.

* * *

“To think you could have flown to the Caribbean with your friends on a private plane yesterday and missed last night’s snowstorm,” Dad grunts out with a laugh as he steps outside to help me clear his driveway.

I shrug, slide my shovel across the path, and toss the heavy wet snow over my shoulder. “I don’t like the heat.”

I glance at him as he pulls on his gloves. “That’s news to me.” His breath turns to fog in the cool morning air. “When you were a kid, all you wanted to do was go to the community pool.”

“That’s because I don’t like the heat and wanted to cool off.”

“If you say so.”

Clearly, he doesn’t believe me and why would he? I loved playing outdoors shirtless in the summer. Swimming, biking, running under the sprinklers. In fact, I like being shirtless most of the time. But it’s really only acceptable in summer.

“I do say so.” He grunts again, and as I wipe my face with my gloved hand, he reaches for a shovel. I put my hand on his to stop him. “Don’t. I got this. It’s almost done.”

His gaze jumps to mine. “You think your old man can’t shovel his own walkway?” Mumbling curses under his breath, he cocks his head and I avert my gaze because the man can read me like an open book. “Is that why you stayed home, so you could keep an eye on me?” he challenges.

Partly.

I don’t tell him that, though. He’s a proud man, and after his heart attack two years ago, I was finally able to convince him to come live in Boston near me. I’ve been worried about him. He assures me the stent they put in has made him feel twenty years younger, but he’s the only family I have, and I’m not taking any chances. At least I convinced him he didn’t have to work anymore. I have enough money for the both of us, but he does take odd jobs just to keep busy.

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