Torn(34)

I sheath my cock, smoothing the latex over it, before I fall back onto the bed behind her.

"Lift your leg up." I push on her hip.

She gives in, lifting it and curving her body so I can enter her from behind. She's still as wet as she was when she came. I slide in easily, smoothly, burying myself inside of her slick *.

I pump slowly, my hand reaching down to her clit. She protests with a shake of her head and a slap on my hand. "Don't. I'll come so fast."

I move my hand back. "You'll come twice then."

She murmurs something under her breath as her hips roll with each thrust of my cock. She moves her body, adjusting her arm so I can see her tits. They're perfect with those nipples that I can't get out of my mind. Such hard little points begging to be bitten. I lower my head and take one between my teeth while I f*ck her slowly, her leg splayed over mine.

"I want to be on top, Asher," she pants.

I move quickly, pulling out, pushing her aside before I lie on my back and grab her hips. She straddles me, taking my cock in her hand, edging it along her * lips before she slides it inside with a quick thrust of her body.

I suck in a groan. Her eyes bore into mine as she rides me hard. Her hands press into my shoulders for leverage, her tits bounce with each jerk of her hips. I grab hold of her waist, slamming myself up into her as I kiss her. She sucks on my bottom lip, little sounds escaping her with each pump of my cock.

I feel the heat as it rushes through me. My hips rear up as I try to get deeper, burying myself to the hilt in her body. "You're perfect, Falon. You're so f*cking perfect."

Her hands fly back as she sits upright, grabbing her tits, tweaking her nipples. She's not shy, bucking and taking all she can from me. She comes then, her * contracting around me. The pulsing clenches my dick sending me straight into a state of heated bliss.

I stare at her, spellbound by what she's feeling, wanting to give her all of this and more.

She's drenched, the wetness from her climax sliding onto me. The sensation is more than I can take. I feel my own release as it barrels through me. I grab hold of her hips, push up and come harder than I ever have before.

***

"Why don't you dance in your videos?" Her hand rests on my cheek as she asks the question.

I stare into her eyes. We've been like this, looking at each other since we showered together quickly after we both came. She wanted to freshen herself up, I didn't want to let her out of my sight.

"I'm a horrible dancer, Falon," I confess. "My career would be over if I danced in my videos."

A small smile pulls at the corners of her mouth. "I don't believe you. I bet you're a much better dancer than you think you are."

"I'm not," I say honestly. "I don't dance in public ever. I do that to protect my reputation."

She moves her legs slightly, her toes trailing along the front of my calf. "Do you dance in private?"

I clear my throat. "No. I never dance."

Her eyes widen as she pushes on her top lip with her tongue. "Would you dance with me, Asher? Here? Tonight?"

"Are you going to record it?" I ask, teasingly. "If you are, the answer is still no."

"I wouldn't." Her brow furrows. "I just want to dance. We could dance to one of your songs."

This right here is the true testament to how much I like this woman. I stand then because right now I'd give her anything she asked of me. I swipe my finger across my phone's screen to pull up one of my ballads and round the bed until I'm standing in front of her, completely naked.

"May I have this dance, Falon?"

She sits up quickly, reaching for my hands so I can pull her to her feet. I wrap one arm around her waist, drawing her chest into mine.

She's barefoot so I tower above her by a few inches. I move slowly with her in my arm, her hand holding tightly to mine, as I shuffle my feet along the hardwood floor.

"I knew you'd be good," she whispers as her head rests against my chin. "I knew you'd be the perfect dancer."

"Only with you," I say softly. "Only with you."





CHAPTER 27


Falon




It's Sunday which means Brooklyn family dinner night. I was going to bail because I have so much production to do on the images I took last week that I feel pressured to get it all done. I almost called my mom to tell her that work was too much but I didn't. The main reason is because she'll use that to remind me that I work too hard.

It's not that she's not proud of me. I know that she is. She worries about me devoting so much time to my job that I don't have a social life. She wants me to meet a nice New York boy and settle down. I doubt that she wants me to have thirteen children though. Even though my parents love us all, I often wonder if they could do it again, if they would make the same decisions they made back then.

"Did you get the hotel job, Falon?" My sister, Clara, asks as she shoves a basket of bread at me. I take it, knowing that I need to eat at least one slice. My mom bakes it every Sunday just for dinner. She always has and even though there are now more mouths to feed around this large dining room table, she still bakes the same size loaf as she did when I was growing up. The difference now is that she cuts the slices thinner so there's enough for my brother's wife, my sister's husband and my nephew.