Behind the Curtain - Page 46

She massaged him more firmly, glancing up to see his reaction. Heat rushed through her when she saw his face. It was the first time she’d ever seen a man firmly in the grip of lust. Of need. It was the first time she’d witnessed Asher that way. It was like spying a whole new world.

“Let me,” she said, her fist once again enclosing the shaft. He gasped and let go, placing both his hands behind him on the towel and bracing himself. She sensed him watching her as she stroked him. It excited her, his tight focus. Her entire arm moved now as she pumped him from tip to balls, her actions bolder now that she’d seen how he pleasured himself.

He felt even bigger in her hand than before, the flesh even more rigid. The tension in his body was palpable. His arm, chest and abdominal muscles flexed tight and hard. His small, brown nipples looked mouthwateringly erect.

“Is this right?” she whispered after a tense moment of jacking him firmly.

“It’s so damn right,” he said, his mouth hard. His eyes seemed alight as he peered at her face. “You’ve never done this before?”

She shook her head, her arm pumping faster.

“It feels so good.” His nostrils flared slightly as he watched her with a feral focus. “You’re going to make me come with that sweet little hand.”

She started to say that was the point, but suddenly he lifted his right hand and caught her at the back of the head. He pulled her to him, seizing her mouth in a blistering kiss. Laila lost herself for a moment, his flavor, his heat and his need surrounding her, penetrating her, until she became one with it.

She concentrated her strokes at the top of the shaft, squeezing extra hard on the defined head. He groaned harshly into her mouth, his body tightening. She continued the brisk stroke, feeling the friction mount, made euphoric sensing the tension in him that surely must break . . .

A great shudder went through him. He broke their kiss roughly. He looked like he was in pain. She paused, unsure of what to do.

“No, Laila,” he grated out. “Keep it up. I’m coming.”

She resumed, staring down at his lap while she feverishly stroked him.

White semen jetted onto his belly. He gasped and tightened again. He ejaculated more on her next stroke.

“Asher?” she asked shakily, uncertain.

“Keep going. Please.”

He hardly needed to say please. She’d never felt so powerful. She watched, enraptured, as each of the firm pumps of her hand made him tense and shudder again in pleasure. Until finally, he sagged back slightly, eyelids clenched tight, some of the tension leaving his rock-hard muscles. His semen now lubricated her strokes. It was everywhere, wetting his belly and pelvis, and even the left side of his ribs. He gleamed with it.

She couldn’t take her eyes off the image he made.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, peering at her from beneath heavy eyelids. Their stares held.

“Wow,” she mouthed.

He blinked, his stare sharpening on her.

“Wow what?” he wondered between pants for air.

She glanced down again at the intensely erotic image he made. “I don’t know. I didn’t know there’d be . . . so much of it.”

She looked up at the sound of his choked laughter. He reached for her, bringing her to his mouth for a hard, hot, swift kiss. When they broke apart, she was breathless. She saw his smile.

“You had something to do with that.” Her heart soared when she saw the warmth in his eyes. “Those hands of yours have talent for more than just the piano.”

Her cheeks were hot—very—from arousal, but she felt them heat even more at that. He released her and leaned back, stretching to reach his backpack. He pulled out another towel and grabbed her hand, drying it. He started to dry himself.

“Let me clean up. Then we’ll see to you,” he said.

Her hips twisted on the towel at that, grinding downward. She frowned, trying desperately to control herself. The fever had spread over every inch of her body. Asher tossed aside the towel and jerked the waistband of his trunks up in a perfunctory gesture. He put out his arms for her.

“Come here,” he said.

She hesitated. His gaze narrowed when she didn’t move. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Tags: Beth Kery Erotic
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