Page 96 of Asher Black (The Five Syndicates)
My face flushes red, and I mumble, “You still are the big, bad wolf.”
“Oh, Lucy.” He sighs. “Never to you. Never to you.”
True to his word, Asher slowed down. I almost wish I hadn’t nodded when he asked if he was moving too fast. That I would have told him the truth instead. But I didn’t, and now I’m suffering the consequences.
It’s been two days, and the most action I’ve gotten from him are a few closed mouth kisses on the lips. I’ve been going crazy, trying to turn every kiss into a makeout session that I hope will turn into sex. But what I lack in willpower, he possesses in spades. And now, I’m in desperate need of a release, however I can get it.
I eye the clock on the nightstand, noting that Asher should be home soon. I reach down between my legs, running my finger down my slit anyways. I don’t care. I almost hope he’ll catch me. I dip a finger into myself, pumping slowly until my wetness spreads all over my walls. I drag my moist finger back out and circle my clit with it before plunging back into myself.
It’s not enough. I grab a random pillow and tuck it between my thighs, pressing myself into it. I rock against the plush pillow until I can feel the delicious friction against my clit. One of my fingers pinches a nipple, and the other hand massages a breast. I can feel my wetness, dripping out of me and onto the pillow, but I don’t care.
I’m panting, so close to ecstasy, when I hear Asher outside. He’s greeting my nightguard, and I know it’s just a matter of time before he enters the room. I quickly grab the pillow from between my legs and throw it to the top of the bed before shuffling under the covers.
When he enters the room, I’m casually tossing birds at pigs on my iPhone.
“Don’t you knock?” I ask, grateful that I’m able to keep my breathing steady.
“It’s my room.”
“Oh. Right.”
He winks at me. “You know who should knock?”
“Monica.”
He laughs as he enters the bathroom to take a shower. I relax my body, patting myself on the back for playing it cool. But when he finishes his shower and gets into bed, his head connects with the pillow I was grinding against, the one I almost came on, and he takes a deep breath.
His eyes connect with mine, the lust clearly there, but then he closes them before anything happens.
Before he touches me.
And all I can think is I don’t want to go slow anymore.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It is only through labor
and painful effort, by grim
energy and resolute courage
that we move on to better
things.
Theodore Roosevelt
Asher’s gone when I wake up the next morning, but there’s a single black rose on the bedside table, accompanied by a note. My fingers brush lightly against the black rose, amazed by the deep ebony color. I’ve never seen a black rose before now, and it’s beautiful.
It’s sitting in a clear vase filled with a black liquid, probably water mixed with black dye to turn the white rose black. I pull the note out from beneath the vase gently, being careful not to tear it. It’s typed on a fancy black cardstock, and the text is in a pretty, bold white font that stands out against the black.
Looking forward to seeing you tonight.
I smile brightly. The note is unsigned, but it’s safe to assume that it’s from Asher. I mean, we see each other every night, but tonight, we’ll both be dressed to impress at a Black Enterprises event. He may be looking forward to seeing me, but I’m also looking forward to seeing him, too. I’ve already caught a peek at the tux he set aside for tonight, and my mouth waters at the thought of him in it.
Before I move to get ready, I set the black rose carefully down in the vase. A few drops of the black water hits the table, and when I go to wipe it off with my finger, the dye smudges onto my hands. I glance down at my palms, staring at the inky blackness.
It looks ominous against my pale skin.
