33. Count for Me

33

COUNT FOR ME

Asher

After I drag a towel through my hair and halfway dry off my body, I cinch it around my waist, not caring that droplets of water slide down my chest.

Only one thing is on my mind—the gift I bought her.

I leave the steamy bathroom and return to the bedroom where the sight of Maeve steals my breath. She’s so fucking obedient. Maeve’s lying on the bed, propped up on a mountain of pillows. Waiting eagerly for instructions.

Her expressive hazel eyes flicker with obvious excitement. No, there’s downright dirty glee in them. I stride over to the foot of the bed, press my palms on the mattress, and meet her gaze. “Nothing physical, right? Those are the rules?”

Her brow knits. She’s clearly confused as she asks, “Um, yes?”

“And did you break them tonight?”

She nibbles on her lip, then asks, “No? ”

I stare sternly at her. “Did you touch me?”

The hint of a smile appears. “No.”

“Did I touch you?”

“No.” She sounds both desperate and emphatic.

I let my gaze roam down her body, settling on her leggings. They’re purple. Nylon probably, and I’d be willing to bet, the material is damp between her thighs. “Open your legs.”

A gust of breath crosses her lips. She parts her legs slightly, revealing a wet spot and making me grin like a goddamn rock star.

“Like this?” she asks, playing along.

“Just like that, wife,” I say, then nod to the bedroom door. “Want to see your housewarming present now?”

“I do,” she says.

I tear myself away from the bed and pad downstairs, powered by determination and lust, and grab the bag from Risqué Business. I take the steps two at a time, returning to the bedroom in less than a minute.

When she sees the pink bag I’m holding, her eyes widen. “Asher,” she says, my name like a filthy prayer.

I cross the dark blue carpet and sit on the edge of the bed, my dick hardening again. I set the bag down and lean closer to her. “I believe you once said it takes you five supersize vibrators.”

A shudder runs down her body. Then she nods. “I said what I said.”

“And I listened. I wanted you to have everything you need to be happy. Happy wife, as they say.”

“Can I see them?” She sounds like it’s Dirty Christmas and she’s just discovered the battery-operated gifts of her dreams under the tree .

“I’ll show you,” I say, but first I take the bag to the bathroom, wash off each one, dry them, then return.

“Finally,” she says with a pout.

“It’s better this way.” I dip a hand into the bag, taking out the so-called Thruster. It’s long and thick. “Fourteen speeds,” I say, and then grab another. The Flutter. It’s a circle, but with an open end. “Goes inside and outside.” I take one more from the bag. It’s a modern take on the traditional rabbit with a shaft and vibrating ears, but with some kind of newfangled flutter technology. “This one I’m told is like an instant orgasm.”

“Oh god,” she gasps.

I show her the others. A Soft Touch, and a Finger Puppet. “Gotta love the name.” I furrow my brow, holding up the pink finger toy. “Shoot. This is no good,” I say, like I’ve just discovered a huge problem.

“Why?” she asks. No, she whines .

“Well, you said supersize. It’s a bullet-size. My bad,” I say, then drop it back in the bag. “It’s not used so maybe we can return it?” I ask innocently, but she flies up, grabs my wrist, and shakes her head. “I want it.”

Her voice is raw, husky.

“Well, it is your gift, I suppose,” I say, then flash her a grin. “Should I leave you here with them?”

Like hell am I leaving her alone with five toys. But I need her to want this game. To agree to these rules. I need her to want it as much as she wanted to watch me get off.

She shakes her head so fast. “No.”

I adopt a confused look. “No?”

“Asher,” she says, like a plea.

“Yes?”

She closes her eyes, then like it pains her, she takes a deep breath and opens them. “You pick. ”

Music to my fucking ears.

I lean closer, sinking deeper onto the bed. “Right. Because sex complicates everything, right. Including a marriage?” I ask, smoothly, confidently, using her words on her.

“It does.”

“But orgasms don’t?”

“Orgasms are fine.”

“Fine? Just fine?” I ask, playing with my food a little longer.

She bangs a fist against the mattress. “More than fine. God, please. Use one. Fuck me with it. Just fuck me with it now. I can’t stand how turned on I am,” she says, then shoves her hands into her hair, a desperate act of a woman undone.

And I’m a man breaking. But also holding tight to a shred of control—a control I need. I rise from the bed, leave her with the bag, then lift a finger. “But no touching, right?”

“Yes. Dammit. Fine. Whatever,” she says, so frustrated, so wound up…

“Just a little horny, honey?” I ask, tilting my head.

She narrows her eyes at me. “If you’d watched me get off, you’d be horny too.”

I bend down and dip my face to hers, dusting the tip of our noses together. “You’re right,” I say, then brush my lips dangerously near to hers. Everything inside me screams kiss her . My body burns with the need to touch her, but I don’t. I’m having too much fun with her desire. “I would be horny, so let me help you.”

I step away. Head to the closet. Grab some ties. When I return, I say, “Just to make sure you’re not tempted to touch me. ”

She draws in a sharp breath. “You’re going to tie me up and fuck me with a toy?”

“Just following the rules.”

She smiles wickedly and moves quickly so before I can tie up her wrists, she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her leggings and skims them down, pushing down her panties too, like she’s afraid I’d leave them on.

And just like that, she’s in control. Because she’s half-naked and her perfect, pink pussy is on display for me. Wet, pretty, and glistening. I groan as I stare wantonly at her. It is going to be so fucking hard not to touch her.

But rules are rules.

And even if they weren’t, I can hear the echo of her words loud and clear— sex complicates everything .

And sex can lead to regret.

I hate regret. And I hate the thought of Maeve regretting me. I won’t fuck her till I’m sure she won’t regret it. If, and it’s a big if, we ever sleep together, I don’t want her to tell me it was a mistake, to say we shouldn’t have done it, to backpedal in the morning.

I want to fuck her, and taste her, and please her, and make her come on my face and cock and fingers with no regrets.

This, though? This game? This I’ll allow.

I straddle her, my hard cock nearly touching her soft stomach from under the towel I’m wearing. I wrap a tie around her right wrist, binding her to the bed. Then her left, doing the same with that wrist. When I tug on the material, there’s a little bit of give, but not too much.

“Safe word?” I ask.

Her lips twitch. She takes her time, then she says, “Warm nuts.”

Fuck, I think I love her. I really do. But now is not the time to get lost in those thoughts. Or feelings that are far too fizzy for my own good. I dip my head so she can’t see the size of my smile. When I raise it, my smile burns off. I slide down her body, adjusting the towel I’m wearing. Half wondering why I’m even wearing a fucking thing at all. But maybe because she’s still in that shirt.

Settling between her thighs, I reach for a vibrator. “You said you need five, Maeve?”

“Yes,” she says, defiantly.

I start with the small one, sliding it onto my finger, then show her the vibrating pad. “Start counting,” I say.

She gasps, as I slide my finger between her spread thighs, running the pad against her swollen clit. Her gasp turns into a long whimper. Love the sound of it, but rules are rules.

“Count for me, Maeve,” I demand.

She swallows, shakes her head, murmurs, “One.”

“Good wife,” I say.

Then, she arches her back and moans so loudly, so recklessly that my dick pops out of the towel. I was hard already. Now I’m granite level since she’s lifting her hips and rocking into my finger. I fight to keep my voice even as I muse, “Is it like a tongue? I wonder?”

She cries out a breathy, “Yes.”

“Bet you’d like to be eaten, wouldn’t you?”

“So much,” she mutters.

How I fucking want to eat her. Bury my face between her thighs and feast. Instead, I turn off the Finger Puppet, then grab the Thruster. “Count again,” I tell her, holding up the long, thick toy.

She’s a mess already, hair wild, cheeks red, eyes shimmering. “Two,” she pants out.

“We have a way to go, Quick-Draw Maeve,” I say, then turn on the new device, rubbing the tip of it against that needy clit of hers.

Her wrists strain against the ties as she mutters a long, “Ohhhhhh.”

My dick thumps. My chest swells.

She arches up, stares fiercely at me. “Fuck me with it. Now.”

Tempting, but no. “So greedy,” I muse, then turn it up, sliding it through her slickness. “Like this?” It’s asked innocently.

It’s answered wantonly with a loud, “Inside me, you tease.”

“If you insist,” I say, then slide it inside her pussy, and my cells turn molten. She’s so wet, so hot that she takes it all easily.

Then, I turn it all the way up. And seconds later, she’s fucking it. Grinding down, riding it, seeking it out. And driving me wild.

“I’m close,” she pants.

I had a feeling she might be, and I could let her come. But I could also drag this out. I’m feeling like I want to edge her, so I turn it off.

She whimpers. “What did you do?”

“You said you need five,” I say, feigning innocence.

“Asher,” she warns me.

And since I really don’t want her to say warm nuts, I’m speedy as I switch to the circle vibe, sliding it into her sweet cunt, watching her take one curved end in while the other fits over her clit.

She arches her hips. Soon, she’s chanting. Begging. She’s close again. And I’m an asshole since I ease it out.

“You dick,” she mutters, thrashing around on the bed like she wants to throttle me .

“Oh, did you say dick?” I grab the rabbit-style one, brandish it.

She lifts her hips, spreads her legs wide open. My god, she’s going to be a dream to fuck. But then, she’s pretty much my dream girl. My heart hammers ruthlessly.

Settle the fuck down, man .

I try to clear the emotions cluttering my brain, focusing only on the physical. “Keep count,” I tell her, dangling the toy in front of her.

“Four,” she says, breathlessly.

“Such a good wife,” I praise, then I slide it inside her soaked pussy.

She keens. It’s gorgeous and animalistic all at once, and it goes to my dick and my heart. But I fight off the feelings, focusing only on the task. Edging her like she’s never been edged before.

I thrust it all the way in, flick on the ears, and let it ride her lovely, hungry clit. In no time, she’s writhing against the shaft, her lips parted, her cries telling me she’s so damn close. She tosses her head back. “Asher,” she groans, groans, nearly there, nearly coasting over that precipice.

And I should let her come. Really, I should. I could get her over the cliff in a couple more deep thrusts. But I turn it off.

“Screw you,” she shouts.

“We can’t, Maeve. Remember?”

“Asher,” she seethes.

“Need to use your safe word?” I ask, hoping, fucking praying she says no.

She glares at me with narrowed eyes. “Five. Give. Me. Five.”

I smile. And I can’t resist a second longer. As I grab the last vibrator—the Soft Touch, the one that simulates a tongue and lips—I lean over her, and this time I don’t steal a kiss. I take a hot, deep one as I turn on the new toy, slide it between her thighs, and rub it against her.

She moans and I swallow the sound with my lips.

She cries out and I kiss her while I rub faster.

She pants and I stroke.

Then I let go of her mouth and she screams.

“Yes, yes, yes!” she calls out as she comes utterly, fantastically undone in my bed, for me.

And, I’m pretty sure, with no regrets.

Fifty thousand years later, she smiles woozily at me. “You’re so mean.”

“I’m the worst. But you’re right, Maeve,” I say, then cage her in with my arms. “It does take you five supersize vibrators.”

“Actually, it was four supersize vibrators and one little one with superpowers.”

“Is that a challenge? You want to try again with five big ones?”

She laughs but then shakes her head. “Actually…” Her gaze drifts down my body. Come to think of it, I’m feeling a breeze. My towel must have fallen off at some point. My hard shaft bobs against her shirt.

She glances down at it then up to my face. “Come again, husband,” she whispers sensually, pausing, looking down at her chest. “On me.”

In case it wasn’t clear.

She’s a siren. She’s a dreamer. She’s an artist. She’s my best friend’s sister. She’s my best friend too—my rock. But right now, she’s simply the woman I can’t resist.

“If you insist,” I say, then push up her shirt, so the tank sits tight under her arms, groaning when I set my eyes on those gorgeous tits for the first time, with perky, dusky rose nipples and plenty to hold onto. There’s so much I want to do to them. Lick and bite and kiss and fuck. For now though, I straddle her chest, a knee on each side of her. I give my aching cock a stroke. Yeah, this won’t take long. “There’s only one little problem.”

She shoots me a coquettish smile. “I wouldn’t say it’s little, Asher.”

Glad she appreciates the goods, but it’s best not to gloat. Instead, I meet her curious irises. “But the thing is,” I say, giving my cock another tug.

Her eyes go glossy as she breathes out hard. “Yeah?”

“It would help,” I continue, taking my time with every filthy word as I slide my hand down it again, “if it were a little wet.”

She licks her lips and stares at my dick like it’s candy before nodding vigorously. “I can help.”

I bet she could, but I’m not thinking of the kind of help she’d give me with that lovely mouth wrapped around my cock. “I know you can,” I say as I stare down at her, gripping my shaft again and sliding my palm down to the tip. “But right now, I need one thing from you.”

“What is it?” she asks breathily.

I take my time, letting the charged air crackle some more. Making her wait for it. I grip my dick tighter, bring the tip closer to her mouth. “Spit on it,” I tell her.

Her eyes widen. Her mouth falls open. Her breath escapes in a rush.

I will remember this look forever—it’s how she looks when we’ve gone to an amusement park and she’s convinced me to ride the upside-down roller coaster, or when she drags me into the crashing waves of the ocean, or when she spots a door to an ice-skating rink that says closed but she decides to sneak in anyway, bringing me with her.

It’s a look of pure thrill, but tonight it’s both thrilling and dirty.

Saying yes with her body, she brings her face closer to my dick. Swallows visibly. Works up some saliva. With our eyes locked together, she parts those raspberry lips and lets it dribble onto my dick. Drop by fucking drop.

It’s the hottest show I’ve ever seen. I groan in appreciation.

When she’s done, she pops her lips and asks innocently, “Like that?”

I look at my dick. A drop of pre-come forms at the tip, my dick showing its appreciation too. “That’ll do,” I deadpan.

Then I slide my hand down my cock, lubing it up with her and me. When I’m done, I settle between her tits, pressing my hands against the outsides of them. Like that, I hold on tight as I fuck the valley between them, gripping them like they’re her hips. A few thrusts, a couple pumps, and pleasure is roaring down my spine, frying my brain and destroying any last bit of reason.

I paint her tits with my release as she cries out yes , almost like she’s as turned on as I am. Not sure that’s possible. Not sure anyone has ever felt like this. My whole body is shaking.

My vision blurs. My brain goes offline. I can’t catch my breath. My entire world is reduced to pants, moans, and aftershocks. When the last one jolts through me, I finally register the perfect mess I’ve made of Maeve’s tits. She’s covered in my come. It’s such a good fucking look. I want to rub it all over her chest, mark her with me. But I should check in with her first. She’s tied up after all. I raise my face and take in the flush on her cheeks, her wild hair, her excited eyes. And her arms stretched above her head, straining against the knots of my ties. “Let me undo them,” I say, recovering my senses. “And then I’ll clean you up.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t undo them?”

“Don’t clean me up.”

She is the lottery. And if all I get is one night like this where we bend the rules, I will take it and savor it. I will hold onto it forever. I quickly undo the ties, kiss her right wrist, then do the same to the left.

When I lift my face, Maeve’s hands are already busy, spreading my climax all over her breasts. “I’m painting myself with your come,” she says.

That’s it.

She needs another orgasm. “Rules are rules. You need three-to-one orgasms.”

“I can’t handle five more orgasms,” she laughs.

“Have it your way. But we need to be even.”

“Says who?”

“I say.” My tone brooks no argument.

“I had one in Vegas, and you had none there. We’re even.”

I grab the Rabbit. “Not for long. Can I fuck you with this?”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

A minute later, she’s coming again, and it’s a sound I’m already addicted to. I head to the bathroom and grab a washcloth to clean her up.

Sometime later, she’s in her cami and a pair of sleep shorts, and I’m in giraffe boxer briefs. We get back in bed, and there’s a moment, maybe several, where everything’s awkward under the covers.

Where I fear she’ll want to lay down rules.

Or say that can’t happen again.

Hell, she’ll probably say it tomorrow.

But for tonight, all I want is to sleep next to my wife. I preempt her, striking first as I tug her into my arms. “Let’s just go to sleep, okay, honey?”

The implication is clear— I can’t talk about this right now.

Don’t hurt me right now.

Don’t tell me that was a mistake right now .

“Okay,” she says softly.

And like she promised the first night we spent together three weeks ago, she’s out in seconds. I’m not. I never am. When the world goes still, my mind whirs too fast, replaying the day, or shooting ahead to the next one, reviewing problems I need to solve, things I have to deal with. This time is a little different though. I’m wide awake in the dark, but I feel more peaceful than I usually do. I’m smelling Maeve’s sweet plum perfume, touching her soft skin, dreaming of more nights like this.

But knowing they may not come.

I’m tempted, so damn tempted to grab my phone and google—what to do when you’ve fallen in love with your best friend.

I’m not sure Doctor Google will have an answer I like.

Because there’s no way this can end well for us. Relationships never end well for me—they always end.

But even if I weren’t broken, even if romance weren’t radioactive, there are never any guarantees. Something will always go wrong. Something will always break. And I hate when things spiral out of my control. I hate it more than anything. I don’t even know what to do when shit starts falling apart.

Hockey’s different. It’s unpredictable, yes. But when I play hockey there are always solutions. Find a new opening, skate faster, fight for the puck harder, chase it farther. Achieve .

But life isn’t a game played in three periods on an oval two hundred feet long and eighty-five feet wide. The outcomes are too varied, too unpredictable, too permanent.

I close my eyes and try to sleep.

I breathe in, breathe out.

But my thoughts race away annoyingly. Soon, I start turning over brand-new scenarios. Imagining what-ifs I’ve barely let myself entertain before.

Like…

What if I stopped holding up all the walls and let myself explore whatever this is with Maeve? What if I let myself feel all these things for her? What if I romanced my wife?

Here’s the biggest problem with those what-ifs—what if it all goes wrong?

I shudder at the thought.

Fucking shudder. A visceral sensation that runs jaggedly through me. I wince, then turn to look at her, sound asleep, happy.

Maybe this will be enough.