Page 79 of Bleeding Hearts

“Good girl.” He grabs the underwear out of my mouth, throwing them on the ground next to him. “Now, clean up the mess you made,” he says, lifting his fingers to my lips and pressing them inside.

I suck his fingers, my taste exploding on my tongue. I swirl my tongue around them, cleaning them, making sure not to leave a single drop.

“See how good you taste, baby?” He pushes his fingers to the back of my throat before pulling them out of my mouth.

He pulls away, quickly unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them, along with his briefs, down his legs, kicking them off before lifting me again and practically throwing me onto the bed. He follows right behind, crawling on top of me and kissing me fiercely.

“We still have to be quiet, baby,” he whispers into our kiss. He reaches down, rubbing his hard cock through my wetness before flipping us over so I’m on top of him.

I lift my hips, lining myself up before sinking down onto him slowly, inch by inch. I bite my lip to muffle the moan threatening to escape as he fills me completely.

I sit up, pressing my hands against his chest as I start to move. I circle my hips over him, rubbing my clit over his abdomen with each tilt of my hips.

I throw my head back in pleasure as I ride him.

“That’s it, baby,” he says, thrusting his hips up into mine to match my pace. “Fuck, if this isn’t the best view I’ve ever seen.”

I look down to find him watching me. He looks at me in a way that nobody else ever has. As if I’m the only thing he can see. It’s not a feeling that I’m used to. Yet watching him watch me does something to me that I can’t explain.

My confidence grows and I can feel myself teetering on the edge of a second orgasm just from his stare alone.

“I could watch you like this all day. So fucking beautiful riding my cock.” He reaches up, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck and yanking me forward into a brutal kiss.

He thrusts his hips up into me deeper from this angle, my clit brushing against him with every stroke, and it's only seconds before the release hits. He swallows my moans with his kiss as I grip his shoulders, my nails digging into them as a tidal wave comes over me.

I’m barely back to reality before he sits up, lifting me off him like I weigh nothing and turning me around reverse cowgirl style. I press my hands into his thighs, lifting my hips as he helps guide me back onto his length.

Once I’m fully seated, he moves us to the edge of the bed, sitting up so his front is pressed against my back.

He holds on to my hips, guiding me up and down his length while he pumps into me simultaneously. He reaches around with his free hand, massaging my breast before pinching my nipple between his fingers in a painfully pleasurable way. He moves to give the same attention to the other one, already building me back up.

It’s strange to have gone from never coming with a man to one who makes me come so many times each time we’re together.

It’s like my body is making up for all the years wasted on bad sex that I thought was my fault, which I’ve come to realize it clearly wasn’t. Or maybe it was, but not in the way I thought.

Maybe I struggled because I was never really into the men that I was with. It had nothing to do with the sex itself but with who I was having it with. I know there are people who have sex simply for the act of it, for their pleasure, and that’s something I entirely support.

Everyone should be allowed to do what’s right for them personally. But maybe I’m just not one of those people and I need to have a deeper connection with the person I’m with for it to be good.

I never had that with anyone else, but with Asher, our connection is magic.

Asher increases his pace, pounding his hips up into me. The angle makes him feel impossibly deep and I can’t help the moans that fall from my lips. He reaches around, clamping his hand over my mouth to keep me quiet as I meet him thrust for thrust.

“Give me one more, baby.” He moves the hand that was on my hip, wrapping his arm around me and bringing it to my clit.

He pinches the bud between his fingers, and I lose it, coming for a third time while he follows right behind.

His body tenses as he releases inside of me.

“Fuck,” he says, wrapping his arms around my stomach and holding me into him. We sit there, wrapped up in each other, with him still inside me, as we both catch our breath.

I don’t know how much time passes before he helps me off him, kissing me gently. We both clean up in the bathroom before changing and lying down in his bed.

“Well, that’s probably the most action this bed has seen in years.” I laugh lightly as I cuddle into him.

“That’s the only action this bed has ever seen,” he says, and I look up at him, confused. Surely, he had girls here when he was younger.

“I was diagnosed when I was fifteen. I was still a virgin at that point and between the surgery and chemo, it didn’t seem like that was changing anytime soon. I had sex for the first time after I was in remission when I was eighteen. Prom night if you can believe I was that cliché.” He laughs. “I was with other girls while I lived here, sure, just not here in the house.” He shrugs.

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