39. King Size

39

KING SIZE

Asher

I could drown in her.

She tastes incredible. Like I knew she would. But somehow even better. I guess that’s what it’s like when you finally have your dream girl. She’s better than your dreams. Because she’s real and sweet and addictive on my tongue. I kiss her pussy like I can’t get enough of her because I can’t.

My hands find their way up the soft flesh of her thighs as I spread her nice and wide. She murmurs and cries out as I lick up her pussy, sucking on her. She arches and shudders, and that drives me on. I trace a circle around her clit with my tongue and suck her into my mouth, making her cry out. I listen for her cues, and I follow them, shifting from soft, fluttery licks to hungry kisses, lavishing the attention her sweet pussy deserves from my mouth. Nothing has ever felt so right. No one has ever felt so much like mine, even though I know that’s not true. But it’s a heady thought and a thrilling one all the same as I lick and kiss and stroke.

“God, Asher,” she whispers, then curls her hands around my head. A bolt of pleasure rushes down my body, making me even harder.

“Yeah,” I mutter against her, urging her on. “Grab my head.”

She laughs softly, then murmurs, “So controlling even when you eat me.”

I pull back, look up at her, not even smiling. Just arching a brow. “Yes, I am. Is that a problem?”

Excitement flashes across her features as she shakes her head quickly. “I like it.”

“I thought so. Now grab my head and use my fucking face like I told you to, wife.”

She huffs out a breath like she’s annoyed when her wet pussy says the opposite. So do her hands as she wraps them tighter around me, gripping harder, letting me know she likes this too. Every second of our back and forth. She arches her hips and soon she’s following my orders, thrusting her hips at my face.

I push on her thighs, opening her wider, lifting her knees up so her feet are at the edge of the couch. I keep her open for me, holding her in place like that as I lick her and eat her. I glide my hands under her ass, squeezing it hard, and fighting off a torrent of pleasure that slams into me. Her ass in my hands is fucking spectacular. She whines and I love that too.

It’s so very Maeve. I catalog this detail—Maeve is a whiner because of course she’s a whiner. She’s the girl who doesn’t hold back. She does everything with her whole heart and body. So it’s not really a surprise, but it is a fucking delight that she puts her whole heart and body into getting eaten out.

She’s thrashing and writhing, rocking into my face and using me exactly how I want her to. Her nails dig into my skull, and I pray she leaves marks. I flatten my tongue, giving her wet pussy a long, lusty stroke.

She jerks, and I try not to come in my pants again while she goes wild on my mouth. My chin. No, my whole goddamn face. It’s like my mouth is a toy and she is fucking it the way she wants. I will not be Quick-Draw Asher again. Not this time.

And the thing is…I’ve never been happier, I’ve never been more turned on, I’ve never been more aroused than when she snaps her thighs to my head. Clamping them down like a vise, she surrenders and screams at the same time. She’s so loud, so into this, so very her.

“Oh god, oh god,” she chants. Wild and unleashed. And it’s everything.

My head swims with an overdose of desire as I lick and kiss her through her orgasm.

When she gently pushes back on me, I let go and wipe the back of my hand across my wet mouth as I look up at her. I don’t take a picture. Of course I don’t take a picture. But I snap this shot in my mind.

It’s perfect. Wild, disheveled, hypnotically beautiful Maeve.

Yeah, I was right. Disheveled Maeve is a very good look, and I can’t get enough of it. It’s mine. This look is all mine. I want to remember it forever because I’m pretty sure I’ve wanted this—her giving herself to me—for so much longer than I even realized.

I rise, slide a hand over my very needy hard-on in my jeans. With a contented sigh, she blinks, then her eyes travel down my body, stopping at my erection before she locks eyes with me again. “Well, are you finally going to let me feel that big dick of yours?”

I take a beat, tilting my head, giving her a lopsided grin. “I will on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“If you come all over it, nice and bare, like a good wife. Exactly the way I want you.”

“Bare,” she repeats it like I’ve invited her to Tahiti. Like going bare is a fancy tropical destination.

Well, yeah.

“I’ve been tested for everything. Negative. Are you on protection?” I ask the last question because it’s the right thing to do, though I already know the answer. I saw her pills on the bathroom counter this morning. But it’s important to ask. It’s important to talk about it.

“I’m on the pill and I’m negative too.”

A grin works its way across my face as I imagine filling her with my come. “God, I need to fuck you right now, honey.”

“Honey,” she repeats, as if she’s savoring the word on her tongue.

“You like when I call you that?”

She offers me her hand, meets my gaze with bold, hungry eyes. “Asher, I like everything.” She presses her chest flush to mine. “So, so very much.”

I want to record those words. Play them on repeat in my head. Drink them down, eat them up, subsist on them. I like everything. So, so very much.

Instead, I scoop her up, then toss her over my shoulder, easily. “Asher, I’m five-eight,” she squeals. “How can you pick me up?”

“I’m six-three and weigh more than two hundred pounds. I’m supposed to be strong. If I can’t carry you upstairs, I should be banished from the game.”

“All right. Do it then,” she says in a playful challenge.

One I fully accept as I head upstairs, carrying her the whole way, my hand on her sweet, bare ass. She hums happily as I stroke the curve of her cheek where it dips and meets the back of her thigh, the delicious crease.

But once we’re in the bedroom I’m not so playful anymore. I am horny as fuck for my wife.

I set her on the end of the bed and slide my hands up her thighs, pushing her skirt up. “You need to ride my cock right now,” I say in a tone that says I’m not fucking around when it comes to fucking. “I want to stretch you as far as I can.”

She slides her teeth along her lower lip and says, “Bet you want to watch my tits bounce too.”

I shudder out a harsh breath, then slide my thumb roughly along her bottom lip. “The sass in you. I want to fuck it right out of that pretty mouth.”

She purses her lips then blows me a seductive kiss. “Then I really should get on my knees.”

The image of her plump, pretty lips wrapped around my cock is branded on my brain, but no way can I have her the way I want if she’s sucking me off. I will come in seconds. “Next time. Right now I want you to take my clothes off and see what you’ve done to me,” I tell her.

She grabs at my shirt, then tugs it over my head in one swift motion. When she drags her nails over my pecs, I shudder from the feel of her fingers, from the reminder that even if I tell her what to do, she is still in charge. Hell, she holds me in the palm of her hand even if I’m setting the pace.

This woman simply owns me .

I can’t look away as she runs those long cherry red nails through my chest hair, playing with it before roaming down my abs, then to the button on my jeans, and undoing them. In no time she drops to her knees, and she pushes my jeans down. Then shrugs. “Oops, I couldn’t wait.”

“Maeve,” I say in a warning.

She pouts. And yep, I knew she’d be good at that too—pouting. She does everything to the fullest. “But I like your dick so much. Are you sure I can’t suck your big dick?”

I close my eyes for a second, then open them to run a finger over her lips. “I think you really like saying that.”

“I can’t help it. I like king-size in everything.”

I tip my head back and laugh. Then smile smugly, but grateful, too, that I’ve got the goods she wants. But I don’t have it in me to deny my wife. “Then take it out and I’ll let you have one good, long lick before I fuck you the way you need to be fucked.”

She pushes my jeans down and I step out of them. When she sets eyes on my boxer briefs, she wiggles her brows. “Monkeys swinging on vines?”

It’s not really a question. It’s like an insider secret as she hearkens back to Vegas and to the night she became mine—when we walked past the monkey business ad from CheekyBeast.

Soon after that, she became mine for a night, but then unexpectedly mine for a little longer. And this time, she’s deliberately mine for now. She pushes down on my boxer briefs with the monkey prints till my cock springs free, hard, throbbing, leaking at the tip.

She rubs it against her cheek. I think I might die of lust. Pleasure’s burning a path through my body as she drags my hard shaft over her soft face, along her cheek, over her lips. It’s the hottest thing I have ever seen in my life, like she’s a cat, marking her person. Only Maeve is marking my dick. Or maybe I’m marking her. I don’t even know anymore.

She parts her lips, looking ravenous. “It’s seriously so pretty I want to paint it.”

I laugh again. “I thought you didn’t do nudes.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t. I think I’m a little obsessed with your dick. Is that okay?”

I stroke her hair. “I’m obsessed with your hair.” I run the backs of my fingers against her cheek. “Your face.” I brush a thumb over her lips. “Your mouth.”

Then silently… you .

She drops her face and draws the tip between those pretty lips. My bones crackle. She looks spectacular, then even better when she opens wider and swallows me inch by inch, her eyes sparking with lust and excitement as she takes me deeper. My blood heats like the sun.

My wife, on her knees, craving my cock is officially the sexiest thing that has ever happened to me. But when she sneakily shoves a hand between her thighs and strokes her wet pussy, I revise that statement. Because this , right here, is even hotter. So hot I yank my dick from her mouth.

“What?” she asks innocently. Too innocently.

“I will come on your face if you play with yourself.”

Her eyes widen, flickering with filthy excitement. She wraps a hand around my dick. “I want that soon.”

I know what she means. Of course, I fucking know what she means. But I have to ask the question. “You want me to come on your face?”

“I do.” Like she said when I married her .

She is killing me, and I need her. I strip off the briefs then lie down on the bed, parking my hands behind my head on the pillow. “Get naked and sit on my dick now.” She slips off her skirt, pulls off her T-shirt, and unhooks her bra. She stands naked before me and my mouth goes dry.

My efforts to control everything fly out the window.

My heart stutters. Thumps harder. My best friend is naked and gorgeous. This is so unreal, and yet here she is climbing up on the bed, straddling me and saying, “So this is how you want me.”

I can barely breathe. I want her so much. I want her in every way. I nod since I’m unable to speak. I would probably only grunt anyway. I grip the base, offer her my dick. And finally manage to use my words again, gritting out, “Take it, honey. Take it all.”

It’s a barren rasp, full of raw emotion.

She has to hear the truth in my voice. To know this is so much more than sex.

But maybe she’s lost in the moment too, since she bats my hand away so she can wrap her fist around my dick. She rubs the head of my cock against her pussy. I close my eyes because it’s almost too much. The hot, slick, silky feel of her.

I shake. I breathe out hard, biting off a string of curse words so I don’t shoot right now. Everything feels too good. Every single thing.

Like Maeve, guiding my cock along her pussy, getting ready to take me deep. Like Maeve positioning the tip. Like Maeve drawing a deep, steadying breath and sinking down on my dick.

In one smooth motion she takes me into her body, and I toss my head back, letting out a feral groan. “Fuuuuck. ”

She’s tight and hot, and she has my last name.

Nothing has ever been better than this. I grab her hips and fuck Mrs. Callahan, using all my strength and every ounce of control to thrust up, to fill her and take her and have her and mark her.

And to wrestle back what I need most—control. “Lift your hands into your hair,” I tell her, in a clear order.

She complies, raising them, lacing her fingers through those lush waves as she leans her head back and gives me the most perfect view in the entire universe.

It is glorious to witness. The sight, the sound, her scent, her pleasure as she rides my cock. Her tits bounce, her skin glistens, and her pussy stretches as I fill her deep. Every nerve in me is raw, exposed as I slam her down on me then grind up into her, setting the pace under her until she’s gasping and groaning.

I let go of her right hip to slide my thumb between her thighs, rubbing her needy clit. With a few quick circles, she’s shaking, shuddering, coming, and I really need to follow her there.

But not like this, when she’s got me by my balls, so to speak.

When she lets out a final gasping, satisfied breath, I lift her off me. “On your back. Knees up high. Hold them open.”

I set her down on her back and she complies, sliding her knees up to her tits. “You want to watch your dick slam into me?”

She knows me too well. That’s the problem. But that’s also the joy. “I fucking do,” I tell her.

“Is that your kink?”

I take a beat, letting the moment breathe as I shake my head, stroke her cheek, and speak from the bottom of my damaged, greedy heart as I say softly, “You are my kink.”

She gasps, but I don’t give her time to linger. Her sounds turn into long, greedy moans as I sink into her all the way. I stare down at the place where we meet, watching her glistening pussy stretch around my cock. She reaches for the headboard, gripping it with both hands. “Like that?” she asks as if she knows what I’m thinking. As if she knows what I need.

For her to let me fuck her hard. For me to take her.

“Yeah, just like that,” I say. Sparks rattle down my body, shooting straight to my cock. I’m not far off. Not at all. I pick up the pace. Faster, deeper, racing to the edge.

Trouble is, this isn’t enough.

I need more of her pleasure. I make a game-day decision, stretch out an arm, and grab the aptly named Finger Puppet that we used last night. It’s in a drawer. I shove it toward her. “Let go of the headboard. Fuck yourself while I fuck you,” I tell her.

Maeve needs no instructions. She holds onto the slats with one hand, puts the toy on her index finger, and shoves it between her legs, stroking and moaning.

That’s all it takes. I fucking explode in pleasure. It takes me hostage. It steals my brain. It robs me of anything else but the sheer and utter bliss of coming hard and deep inside Maeve as she shouts my name.

It’s hot and electric. It’s raw and passionate, and it is not nearly enough. I want so much more. I want it all. I want everything.

When I ease out, my come drips down her thigh, a slow slide that I can’t look away from.

Lying next to her, I slip my hand between her legs and rub my finger through my release, push it back into her pussy with two fingers, and hold them there till I’m satisfied I’ve filled her.

She blinks, her breath hitching. Then she parts her lips, meeting my eyes, whispering, “Asher.”

“Yeah?”

But she says nothing. She’s not really asking anything either. It’s just said as an observation like she can’t quite believe I did that. Honestly, I can’t either. I ease out my fingers, shaking my head, a little shocked. “I’ve never done that before.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Me neither.” Another pause. A crinkle of her brow. “Was that how you wanted to fuck me?”

“It’s one of the ways,” I say honestly.

“Will you show me the others? We have time, you know.” It’s asked with raw hope. Like she thinks there’s a chance I’d say anything but yes.

“I will. I promise.” Little does she know I’d probably promise her everything. Damn the complications. Damn the risks. Damn the challenges.

I run my other hand over her freshly fucked hair. She sighs, long and contented as I stroke her strands with no plans to stop. But we probably should clean up. “Do you want to shower?”

I should add with me . So she doesn’t take the question the wrong way. But before I can say another word, she says, “Your shower is better than a sex toy. I’ll get up in a minute. But right now I’m kind of into the bed.”

A laugh bursts from me. I barely know where to start with that statement. “Would you like some sex toys in the shower too, Maeve? You can have a collection of five supersize vibrators there as well.”

“I require six,” she says, then settles into the bed with a contented hum. “It’s hard to get out of your bed. It’s so nice.” There’s a pause, then she adds, “I slept so soundly here.”

My stupid heart speeds up from that statement. Maybe the bed will make her want to stay longer. But I also picture Vegas and how she conked out right away. “Maeve, when do you not sleep soundly?”

She snuggles up against me, her chin resting on my shoulder. “I’m just saying…I did.”

“I think it’s in your nature to sleep soundly,” I say, since I’d be a fool to get ahead of myself and think it’s me. But I did sleep well with her too.

“I’m a sleep champion. What can I say? Maybe someday you can have a nap date with me. Wait, do you even nap?”

“I nap before games,” I point out.

She scoffs. “That’s like exercise. Like eating broccoli because it’s good for you.”

“It’s still a nap.”

“I meant like a nap where you don’t have anything to do, anywhere to go. Where you lie in the sun and let afternoon dreams take you away.”

“No.”

“You hate relaxation.”

“Not true,” I say.

“A little true.”

“Fine,” I grumble. “It’s a little true.”

“I know you well,” she says, pleased, and I mostly am too from those four words. She does know me. She knows I’m more wound up than I let on. She knows I like to be in charge, to fix things, to play hard and have fun on the ice, to show up for my friends, to hang out with my dads, to go to new places with her, and now, I suppose she knows this —how I like to fuck.

But would she want to know me better? See more of me? Discover the parts she doesn’t know? To know what keeps me up at night? What stresses me out? More so, will she ever catch up to where I am? And while we’re at it, what do I want? Besides for her to really like my big bed.

Those questions ping through my brain, repetitively. I try to ignore them, but they’re making me antsy. And, well, so is the fact that there’s a wet spot on the bed. I turn to her and swat her ass. “Shower. Now.”

“Are you saying I’m dirty?”

“You’re filthy,” I tease.

“Pot. Kettle.”

I point to the bathroom. “Go,” I tell her.

“So filthy. And so bossy.”

“You say that like you don’t love my kind of bossy.”

“So cocky too,” she adds, hopping out of bed with a playful grin, and heading straight to the bathroom.

But I can’t move. The sight of her naked, walking so casually, so comfortably into the bathroom is stealing the air from my lungs.

Yes, she’s sexy as fuck with that gorgeous heart-shaped ass. But it’s the way she looks in my home.

Like she fucking belongs.

It’s killing me.

And exciting me.

And fucking me up.

Dragging a hand through my hair, like it’ll sort out my wild thoughts, I get out of bed and follow her to the bathroom. She’s already looping her hair into a messy bun on top of her head, then stepping into the shower.

She turns it on, and yep—she owns this place .

And, really, me.

I dim the lights, step inside, and shower with my best friend for the first time. I grab some of her body wash, and rub it onto her stomach, her breasts, her ass, then I get down on my knees and clean her thighs, looking up at her.

“Thanks for making a mess of me. And thanks for cleaning me up,” she says, in a tone I haven’t heard from her before.

It’s soft, maybe just shy of romantic. I want to hear that tone again. Mostly, I want to earn it. I stand and drop a kiss to her forehead. “Anytime,” I say, and that barely covers the scope of things.

But for now, it’ll have to do.