“Not helping, Ash.”

“Sorry, I suck at this.”

“You’re not great.”

“I’m sorry.” He really looked it, too.

“No, I’m sorry.” I shook my head. “I should be cooler. I’m pretty nerdy. I’m a librarian and a piano teacher. I knit.”

“Knitting is cool!” he protested.

“No, knitting is not cool. And I’m sure you expected…I mean, you’re a rock star and I came up to your hotel room, so—”

“No, it’s not like that.”

I looked up at him, arching an eyebrow. He broke into a smile. “OK, so it’s almost always like that. But that’s why I like you! You’re different! You’re real. You’re not like the kind of girls I usually spend time with.”

Why did it feel like he was trying hard to convince me to stay? This whole night was surreal. I figured the second I hesitated, he’d have me out the door so fast my head would spin.

“Give me another chance?” He smiled down at me, all charm.

“I’m not trying to tease you,” I clarified, just to make sure he knew I wasn’t playing games. I really wasn’t.

“No, I get it.” He put his hands up in mock police arrest. “I’ll be a perfect gentleman. I just want to get to know you better.”

He went over to the couch again, sitting down and patting the cushion next to him. “We’ll talk. I promise this time I won’t start threatening to tie you up and spank you.”

Blushing, I had to laugh a little. What he didn’t know was how much that had turned me on. The heat still coiled within me, remembering his touch, wanting more of it.

“Come and talk to me. Tell me, what matters to you?”

I shrugged. “My family.”

“Tell me about them,” he asked. That had to be a safe topic.

“My parents.” I sat next to him, my legs crossed, our bodies not touching. “They had me when they were older. My mother was 40, my father 45. They’d thought that they couldn’t get pregnant. Mom calls me the miracle baby.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, feeling self-conscious. This had to sound really boring to him. “Are you sure you want to hear about my parents?”

“Yes, absolutely.” He fixed all his attention on me, rapt.

“OK,” I agreed. “Well, my father’s an engineer. They moved here about 30 years ago from Russia, hoping for a better life. He was able to find work at a company upstate and they’ve lived in the same small town ever since.”

“Do you see them often?”

“I try to make it up every weekend. My mother’s a great cook and we have dinner together.”

“Do you like spending time with them?”

“Yes.” I answered, honestly. “I mean, they can drive me a little crazy with all their worrying. They’d be much happier if I were already married and pregnant. Or if I’d become a concert pianist. Or both. But, yeah, I like seeing them. I love them.”

“So…” he paused, seeming to find my statement hard to comprehend. “You don’t just love them. You like them, too?”

“Yes,” I laughed, a bit confused at the trouble he was having understanding this. “They’re good people. They’re hard-working and they care about me. Why, don’t you like your parents?”

“My father passed away this summer.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” How painful that must be for him! I knew it was an inevitable event, the natural cycle of life and death, but I hated to think about it.

“We weren’t close. But it’s strange with him gone.” He drew tight and tense for a moment. “But I’d rather hear more about you.” He drew his arm along the back of the couch again. “You’re amazing.” His attention back on me, he looked down as if marveling over a strange, mythical creature.

“The way you’re looking at me.” I shook my head, flushed under his admiration. “I should be looking at you that way. You’re the rock star. I’m just average.”

“I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

I laughed. “You’ve got this all wrong. I’m supposed to be saying that to you.” He brought his hand back to my hair, starting to caress it again as if he couldn’t stop himself. I didn’t want him to. He made me feel so cherished, the way he stroked me and played with the strands of my hair. The quiet jazz, the soft lighting, the musky, masculine scent of him, drawing me near. I think I was the one to kiss him first, leaning in and finding his lips with my own.

With strong, sure arms he eased me onto his lap, holding me there as we kissed. And kissed. No more bondage talk, no more pinching my nipples, just his warm, full lips on my own, drinking me in as if he loved my taste.

“Anika,” he breathed, as if he were enchanted by everything about me. “You’re so gorgeous.”

This time it was me kissing along his jaw, down at his throat. So masculine, so powerful, his shoulders so broad and I could feel his thickly roped muscles in his arms though he still held me loosely, gently.

“Ana,” he groaned deep in his throat as I kissed him, licking the hollow of his neck. He started moving his hands, and I realized how much he’d been holding back, forcing himself to stay still while I kissed. Now his hands encircled my waist, up my back, down at my legs, caressing my bare thighs. Breathing harder, I kissed his mouth again as he worked his way along my inner thigh, stroking, massaging, intimate.

I knew a short while ago I’d told him no, but now all I wanted was him to make his way up, reach my sex, touch me there where I was throbbing and starting to get wet for him. My skirt had already bunched up high. I parted my thighs in invitation.

Slowly, gently, he worked his wicked, magical fingers up the soft skin of my inner thighs. With a soft brush, he grazed me with his knuckle, a light touch to my lacy panties.

I moaned in response, my hands twining into his silky black hair, my lips along his neck. I needed this. I know I’d had my doubts, and I still wasn’t going as far as he’d suggested earlier. But this, I wanted. I wanted him to touch me, stroke me, show me how good he could make me feel.

A finger up now, he drew it along my panties. He hissed appreciatively. “Wet for me, Ana.” He pressed his thick finger into me, running it along my seam. “So wet.” I whimpered it felt so good, and I started to pant as he drew my panties to the side and touched me directly on my wet, throbbing sex.

“So pretty.” He started stroking my pussy, finding my clit and circling it, brushing against it, then bringing his finger up inside my wet heat. “You feel so good.”

“Oh!” I tilted my head back, unable to keep focused enough to continue kissing him, wanting nothing more than this building heat. The way he touched me, coaxing, stroking me so masterfully, up at my clit. Unable to stop myself, I started pressing against him, pushing into his hand, needing more.

“Does that feel good, Ana?” His voice, like dark silk, flowed over my body. His fingers, up inside me, plunged in, fucking me in a steady rhythm. His thumb stroked my clit, strumming me, circling.

“Ash!” I cried out, my hand to his broad shoulder, clutching him, fisting his shirt. I pushed my mound onto his hand, legs spread, lost in sensation. Waves of pleasure rose within me, building up, growing stronger with each stroke.

“Ana,” he murmured, two fingers deep inside me now, sliding in and out as he thrust in a faster rhythm. “Do you like how I fuck you with my fingers?”

“Yes!” I’d never had anyone talk dirty like that to me before, never admitted I liked anything like that.

“Tell me, Anika. Tell me you like my fingers fucking you.”

“Oh!” His words brought me so close. I panted and cried out and dug my nails into his shoulder and hard-muscled chest.

“Say it,” he commanded.

“I love it!” I cried out, bucking into him, his thumb pressing into my aching clit.

“What do you love?” he demanded.

“I love your fingers fucking me, Ash.”

“Yes, that?

??s it.” He coaxed me, praised me, plunging his fingers in deep. “Now, Anika, come for me.”

Pleasure burst from deep within me at his command, welling up and overflowing into every inch of my body.

“Ah! Ash!” I called out, quivering and quaking at his touch, his fingers drawing every last ounce of pleasure from me. Warm, languid, I drifted back, slowly regaining consciousness of sitting there on a couch with Ash Black, his fingers now back at my knee, his mouth at my ear.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, just when I was about to start getting self-conscious. “You’re so sexy, so responsive.” He nuzzled into my hair, breathing me in. “I can’t wait to spend the month with you.”

“Mmm,” I purred in his arms, so warm, so adored. Wait, what had he just said? “Spend the month?” I asked, looking up at him.

“Yes.” He stroked my hair, looking at me hungrily. “We’re going to have a whole month together. Lots of time to do that to you again and again.” He looked into my eyes and I saw so much heat in them, so much passion I nearly got swept away with it all again. Nearly.

“What’s this about a month?” I asked.

“Right, we need to talk about the terms.”

“The terms?” I adjusted myself, settling down again at his side instead of his lap.

“I’ve got an NDA you’ll have to sign. My lawyer Nelson can talk to you about all the details. Or he can talk to your family’s attorney if you have one.”

Tags: Callie Harper Beg For It Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net