37. Ashley

37

ASHLEY

Even before my eyes fluttered open, I knew that I was in trouble. Trouble that surrounded me in the form of a six-foot-four, sexy, muscled man who I’d agreed to share the bed with last night. Declan’s arms were wrapped around me, and something very hard was pressing against my back, and it wasn’t the remote control.

The problem was, this felt right. Too right. So right, I wanted this to be real, and it wasn’t. I only had myself to blame for the pickle of a situation I found myself in, and I wasn’t talking about the pickle pressed against my back.

Staying in Atlanta last night was mistake number one.

Sleeping under one roof was mistake number two.

Sharing the bed last night was mistake number three.

I’d done my absolute best to be ‘on’ at the Christmas party last night. I wanted to impress the people at his company. I didn’t want them to think that Declan had married a dud. He’d been with supermodel Serena. Just like Iman, she didn’t even have a last name, it was just Serena. That was how hot she was. She was known by only one name. It was a lot to live up to.

By the time Declan said we could leave, my Energizer bunny battery had run out of juice. When he suggested I stay in town, I was too tired to even think about flying back home. When we got back to his gorgeous penthouse, I barely had enough energy to change into one of his t-shirts and crawl into bed. When he laid down beside me and pulled me in close to him, I closed my eyes and fell fast asleep.

I was playing with fire, and at this point, I was going to get burned. Not just a little crispy; I’m talking there would only be ashes left of me.

Nothing about being married to Declan was what I expected. The daily texts and calls. The weekly flowers. The random food deliveries. The pharmacy that showed up on my doorstep. The multi-level cat playhouse and tree tower. The new, used Range Rover. The promises he kept. The ones he never made but fulfilled anyway. It was the thoughtfulness, the attentiveness, the long conversations, and the short conversations about everything and nothing that took me by surprise. It was unnerving and, I feared, may have permanently left a Declan-sized hole in my soul.

I’d allowed myself to get too close to a man who was not emotionally available. I needed to shift the power dynamic. To reinstate my independence. For the rest of our designated time together, I desperately needed to put boundaries in place.

First, I needed to distance myself physically; then, I needed to do it emotionally and mentally. The latter was going to be much more difficult than the first objective. The drive back to Firefly was a long one, but I could Uber. I just needed to let Skylar know that I would not be available to babysit.

As I attempted to slip from beneath Declan’s arm, I found myself being pulled closer to him as he tightened his hold on me. His hand flattened against my belly, keeping me in place. A deep groan vibrated from his chest, and since I was pressed up against him, the sound reverberated through my back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he rasped, his lips brushing the edge of my ear as his fingertips grazed over the patch of hair at the top of my sex, then dipped between my legs.

A whimper caught in my throat as tingles spread through my core.

Get up , I told myself. Be strong.

Unfortunately, my hormones duct-taped my inner voice. All I could think about was how good I was feeling at that moment. How alive the man whose arms I was in made me feel. How much pleasure I knew he was capable of bringing me.

“I want you, Ashley.” Declan’s deep voice spread through me like a shot of whiskey, sending a tremor of awareness from my head to my toes. “I want to touch you and kiss you and fuck you.”

Every word he spoke spiked my arousal tenfold. He could bring me from zero to a hundred in a single breath. All it took was one touch, one word, one look from him, and my body coiled with sexual tension that only he could satisfy.

“Is that what you want?” he growled.

It wasn’t a question of wanting. Of course, that’s what I wanted. I also wanted to eat a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Half Baked every night, but should I do that? No.

My heavy lids closed as his middle finger began sliding along my folds. When he reached the top of my sex, he flicked across my clit with the roughened pad of his fingertip, then moved it back down and rubbed it along my slit before repeating the action. Over and over again, he teased me, bringing me closer and closer to the edge.

Each time the tip of his finger grazed the epicenter of my pleasure nerve endings, my inner walls clenched, and the pressure low in my belly curled tighter.

“I love how wet you get for me.” His gravelly voice sent shockwaves through me. “So wet.”

Desperation for him to put me out of this delicious torture overwhelmed me. I placed my hand over his, nestled in the apex of my thighs, and attempted to maneuver his touch to where I needed it most. He didn’t allow me to alter his movements. My efforts to rush him were in vain. He was stronger than I was.

My other hand fisted the pillow beside my head in frustration. I looked down between my legs, where my small, delicate hand covered his. The erotic sight caused the pressure swirling in my core to build to a nearly intolerable degree.

“Please,” I begged, needing him to bring me the sweet satisfaction only he could.

“Please, what?” His husky grittiness sent a shiver down my spine as he whispered in my ear, and his finger circled around the spot I wanted him to touch the most.

“Please…please make me come,” I whimpered as my hips rolled into his touch.

He shifted his arm, pulling me even closer to him as his middle finger bent and slid inside of me. The pad of his thumb began to flick over my clit while his middle finger massaged me internally. My hand clutched his as he drove me closer to the edge of oblivion. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to be carried away by the overwhelming sensations only his touch created in me. He had the fast pass to my pleasure.

Soon, I was falling into the oblivion as a shuddering orgasm overtook me. Tremors quaked from my core as my body convulsed with sensual gratification. He continued to intimately caress me as I bucked against his touch and rode out my climax. He drew out my release until the final echoes of aftershocks radiated from my core.

As I recovered and caught my breath, I turned around and faced him. When I did, the look in his eyes was one I’d never seen before. It was still intense and raw, but now there was a vulnerability that I hadn’t seen before. I lifted my hand and raked my fingers through the soft hair at his temple as I leaned forward and pressed my mouth to his.

The kiss was soft, sweet, and tender. The energy between us was different than any other time we’d been together. I gently pressed my lips to his once more, then I moved from his mouth to his jawline and down his neck. I continued my mouth’s exploration as my hand joined the journey and touched his chest. Beneath my palm, I could feel his heart beating as hard and as fast as mine was. I pushed on his chest, and he allowed me to roll him onto his back. I continued peppering kisses softly against his heated skin along his collarbone and shoulder.

His breaths were labored, and I could sense the tension radiating from him in waves. I wondered how long he’d allow me to roam freely on his body. He’d never let me explore his body like this, and I wanted to take full advantage of it.

My hands traveled over the chiseled planes of his upper body and the ridges of his abs. His muscles twitched beneath my touch. His skin was hot, and his chest was rising and falling as his breaths grew shorter and shorter. As my featherlight brushes moved over every inch of his torso and arms, I continued kissing him. My lips left a trail of open-mouth kisses in their wake. I loved tasting the saltiness of his skin and feeling the way his muscles jumped beneath my lips and hands.

A groan rumbled, and I felt the vibration against my mouth. With my lips still pressed against his skin, I lifted my eyes to meet his. His hand brushed the hair that had fallen over my face. As our gazes met, the intensity in his stare stole my breath and also emboldened me.

“What are you doing?” His question sounded more like a warning.

“I want to touch you, and kiss you, and fuck you,” I repeated the words he’d said to me. He knew what I was asking of him. We both did.

His jaw tightened, and I could see the battle going on behind his eyes. They had a predatory gleam in them. I could sense how badly he wanted to reverse the power dynamic. He wanted to put me on my back or stomach, to tie me up, to have me submit to him. His compulsion to take control, to be dominant, was emitting off his body in waves.

“Is that what you want?” I whispered, my words strangled by the lust choking me.

My heart slammed against my ribs, pounding erratically at the boldness of the question I’d just posed. He’d never given me all access to himself. He’d always been the one calling the shots in the bedroom. But if we were going to do this today, I wanted to touch him. To explore him. I wanted this time to be different for him and for me. I wanted him to give me something he’d never given anyone before…himself.