Return of the Bad Boy (Second Chance #4)(3)

He gripped her hips instead. “Slow, Sarge.”

Sarge. The nickname came about because Ash insisted she “barked orders” at him whenever she had her “agent” hat on. He’d never let it go and she secretly liked that he’d kept referring to her as such, even though they weren’t together any longer. Or maybe not so secretly. She suspected he knew how much she liked it.

He made short work of rolling on a condom and lined the head of his cock with her entrance. She held her breath as he slid deep, and threw her head back, a gasp leaving her lips. She hadn’t forgotten how great he felt, but she had tried. Oh, how she’d tried. The last thing she’d needed after he’d wronged her was to remember what she’d be missing. Now there was no denying it.

Pushing onto her knees, she lifted off him and came back down, taking each of his nine inches—that rumor was one hundred percent true. She continued riding him, pressing her breasts together with the sides of her arms and resting her hands on his chest.

“That’s it, honey.” His eyes slid to half-mast, focused squarely on her swaying breasts. “Fuck me. Fuck me.” His command was more of a plea, and Gloria felt her lips curl into a smile. She liked having control over him. In the constant play for who would end up on top, this time it was her. Literally.

He took some of that control a moment later, sliding his hand from her hip to her lower back, his long fingers draped along the cleft of her ass as he drove her down onto him again. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensations assaulting her body. The way she tingled from head to toe. The way her mind blanked and welcomed the oblivion; the rare moment when all she did was feel and not think.

Utter bliss.

“Give me your eyes,” he said, his voice low and deep and broken.

“No,” she breathed, keeping them closed.

She didn’t want to connect in any way other than the obvious. Nothing beyond the slippery penetration that would give them each what they needed. An orgasm. Anything more was…dangerous.

His hand smoothed around her ass and at his next thrust, he anchored her to him, preventing her from moving. “Yes.”

Her eyes snapped open. She stared down at him, her fingers moving over his chest hair. She opened her mouth to argue, but the moment she locked onto his dark eyes, she froze. His expression was soft, open. Revealing everything he’d kept hidden from her since they parted on not-so-great terms.

“That’s it, Sarge,” he said like he’d hypnotized her. Maybe he had.

She wanted to close her eyes—wanted to break the connection tying them together like a strong, unbreakable band. She just…couldn’t.

Both palms on her hips, he encouraged her off him slowly, using his hands to slide her onto him again. Oh, that was the best. The way he sank deep, then pulled away, making her anticipate the next entry. Her mouth dropped open and a sigh of satisfaction eked from her throat. She put pressure against his chest, using her hands to assist him in lifting off her again. When she impaled herself this time, she kept her eyes trained on his.

After a few minutes, their rhythm grew frantic. Asher’s eyes and mouth lost their lazy forms as a fierce, almost animal expression took its place. With a growl, he plunged, slamming into her. Then he pulled out, abruptly dropping her to her back and entering her. Taking charge of her again.

“Oh!” she shouted, the sound sharp and satisfied.

“Eyes,” he demanded when she focused on a spot over his shoulder.

“Ash…”

He grasped her chin, not forcing her but letting her know he wasn’t accepting half measures. Not tonight.

She obeyed, watching him as he held her in place and stroked into her over and over.

“Could fall into those pools, Sarge,” he muttered. “Blue skies, ocean waves”—he paused to suck in a satisfied breath when she clenched around him—“irises in the spring. Windows to your soul.”

Sweetness oozed from each word he spoke. She hadn’t experienced many men being sweet to her in the past. But she had with Asher. His sweetness had a tang to it—a flavor she could taste on the back of her tongue.

“God, I missed you.” His humor vanished as quickly as it came.

Her heart seized. She’d opened up for him when she’d given him her eyes. It was the tiniest crack, but he’d widened the gap. This was a bad idea.

A bad, bad, bad-boy idea.

“That’s a song, baby.” He grinned.

No way.

“Well, you’re not stopping to write it down,” she informed him between erratic breaths, trying her damnedest to regain footing even as she fell apart beneath him. This was sex for sex’s sake. She needed to remember that.

“Fuck, no, I’m not,” he said. “But you can help me remember.”

Help him remember to write a song about her? No, she did not think so. It was one thing to be in his bed, to extract pleasure from him—to give him pleasure, to be on the receiving end of his teasing. It was another to have Asher pen a song about her.

No, thank you very much.

“My turn. On your back.” She pushed against his shoulders, desperate to regain some control.

“Forget it.” His eyes sparkled in that playful way she’d always admired. “I’m going to hold you down and make you come and you’re going to look at me when I do it.”