Page 25 of Asher Black (The Five Syndicates)
He molds his hard body into my back, and his lips brush teasingly against my ear. “Relax.”
I shudder at the contact but don’t reply.
He begins to move his body against mine in a hypnotic rhythm. “Act normally.”
I want to scoff. He’s touching me, and he wants me to act normally? A guy with his looks and his occupation is anything but normal. Plus, I can’t even spell the word “normal” let alone be it when I can feel each individual pack of his abdominal muscles pressed against my back. There are eight of them.
Eight!
“Think of this as an audition,” he continues. “I’m going to cash in my favor soon, but if you don’t pass this audition, I’ll have to ask you to do something else for me. And I guarantee you, it won’t be as easy as what I am about to ask you.” His right arm grips my waist tighter. “Okay?”
I mull over his words. Dancing with him is an audition? My thoughts flash to what this club used to be—a strip club. Does he want to turn me into a stripper? No, that probably isn’t it. After all, this isn’t a strip club anymore.
Does… does he want me to give him a private strip tease? That’s unlikely, too, because let’s face it. I was already naked and writhing in front of him once, and he was able to stop himself so easily. Plus, all he has to do is ask and any girl will be willing. He doesn’t need me for that.
But a part of me—named Horny Lucy, of course—isn’t all that opposed to the idea. In the grand scheme of things, that’s fairly tame in comparison to the other nefarious things he can ask of me. I think of Wilton and what I’ll be sacrificing if I don’t agree.
I make up my mind. He said that whatever he wants now will be easier than what he might come up with later, and I believe him. He may be super scary, but as far as I know, he has yet to lie to me.
I nod and tip my head back, leaning it against his shoulder, so he can hear me when I say, “What do you want me to do?”
“For now? Dance with me like you would any other guy.”
Except that’s an impossible task, because he isn’t just any other guy. He’s a guy I want to strip and hump like a dog in heat. He’s also a guy I want to cower and run away from. Horny Lucy and Sane Lucy are at war inside of me.
In the end, they compromise. I pretend that Asher is a robot, which makes him less intimidating. The thought even makes me laugh. Aimee, who has finally recovered from seeing Asher again, sends me a concerned look at the sound of my laughter. I ignore her, my mind focused on dehumanizing Asher.
Robot, Sane Lucy says in my head.
Sex bot, Horny Lucy amends.
Fine.
Sex bot.
I can do this.
Asher isn’t a human; he’s a sex bot, something for me to use for my own pleasure.
I reach behind me and grab the side of his thigh, pulling his lower body closer to me, until I can feel him pressed against my lower back. He’s soft right now, but I can tell he’s generously endowed, causing the contact to send a shiver through my body.
My other hand wraps around his neck and tugs until we are pressed tightly against one another from his neck down. I grind my ass against him, moving in a sensual pace to the magnetic rhythm of the song, an erotic club mix of Selena Gomez’s “Good for You.”
Asher
wants me to treat him like any other guy, and I am. If he was any run of the mill hot guy and Horny Lucy was in charge, I would discretely take advantage of him in public until I can have my way with him in private. I’m not a prude. I have nothing against casual sex. Hooking up with Asher a month ago is proof of that. My long dry spell has everything to do with a lack of opportunity and nothing to do with a lack of effort.
So, here I am, grinding against the Romano family’s fixer and enjoying it. Asher growls, turning me over and positioning me until my breasts are pressed against him. He slips a leg in between my thighs, and I automatically grind myself against it, my dress lifting up a little to reveal more of my skin.
I’m soaking through my underwear, and I hope I’m not leaving a wet spot on Asher’s clothes. I barely consider this, though. I’m too lost in the moment, embarrassingly close to coming. I even forget who he is for a second, simply enjoying his company instead of worrying about the inevitable consequences.
Asher lowers his head, burying his face in my neck. I grip his button down at the feel of his tongue running up the length of my jaw. His nose trails along my neck until his lips reach my earlobe, and he nibbles on it.
This is too much. I’m so close. I want to come. I need to. It’s been too long. He has to know what he’s doing to me. I feel the sudden urge to look into his eyes and see whether or not I’m having the same effect on him.
I sure think I am. After all, he has a massive hard on pressed against me. But my insecurities are there. They haven’t forgotten how he left me that night. How I was so close to coming on his fingers, his tongue against my clit, and he was able to walk away.
When I finally gather the courage to look up, I’m rendered frozen. I notice that all eyes around us are on Asher and me. That isn’t what unsettles me, though. It’s Asher, always Asher. His eyes are tilted upward, focused on a group of people that stand at the balcony of the VIP area. They’re looking directly at us.
