You Had Me at Hola(47)

At her breathless command, a new urgency overtook him. He kicked off his shoes and shoved down his jeans. She sucked in a breath and bit her lower lip at the sight of his rigid cock, outlined beautifully by tight dark blue briefs. The head peeked out over the waistband. She couldn’t fucking wait to get her hands on him.

With something like a growl, he slid next to her and gathered her close, kissing her like their lives depended on it.

This was a side of Ashton she hadn’t seen before. She’d caught glimpses of it when he played Victor, a sexy intensity that came out when he acted. But this was more—more passionate, more overwhelming—and she loved it. All she ever wanted was to be the single-minded focus of someone’s attention. And his was 100 percent entirely focused on her.

His mouth moved over hers like all the stage kisses they’d shared had been foreplay, a prelude to what he was truly capable of and what he’d wanted to do. Now, finally, he was kissing her for real. No pretense, no direction from others. This was pure, unfiltered Ashton. No holding back.

Jasmine took everything he offered and gave him everything she could. Their hands roamed, learning each other’s bodies more intimately and more ardently than they ever had on set. Jasmine grasped the waistband of his underwear and shoved them down over his taut ass before taking his cock in hand.

It was thick and fully rigid, his skin hot against her palm. She gave him a few experimental pumps and he groaned against her mouth.

“Jasmine, what are we doing?” His voice was hoarse, rough with need. He sucked in a breath when she wrapped her fingers around his shaft and gave him a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, meeting his eyes. “But I don’t want to stop.”

“Yo tampoco.” The words held a note of confession. He cupped her cheek and kissed her, then shifted out of reach. She almost whimpered in dismay when the move pulled his cock from her grasp, but then his mouth found her breasts again and one of his hands slid up her inner thigh. With a satisfied hum, she decided that, on second thought, she was totally okay with these new positions.

ALL THOUGHTS ABOUT what a bad idea this was had deserted Ashton’s brain somewhere between walking through the door and Jasmine’s ass hitting the table.

Now that they were naked and alone together in her bed, all he could think about was touching her more, tasting her more, and making her moan even more than she already was.

He sucked her tight little nipple deep into his mouth, rolling the bud with his tongue and nearly dying from pleasure at the breathy gasps and pants she made. Her response was genuine, and he hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted that from her. Every other time he’d touched her, their reactions had been worked out in advance by committee.

But this? This was only between them.

She’d been right. He loved eliciting an emotional reaction from her. His hand slipped between her thighs to the warm, wet heart of her. Her fingers tangled in his hair, urging him on. Her legs parted, making room for him, inviting his touch.

Before he did, he moved up her body to bring his mouth back to hers. He wanted to be closer, to swallow her sounds of passion when he touched her for the first time. She clung to him, pressing closer and arching her hips.

But there was one thing he had to make clear first. Communication was key, right? That’s what had gotten them here. Even though desire urged him to cast words aside, he had to make sure they were on the same page.

“Jasmine.” His voice broke on her name.

“Hmm?” She shifted restlessly. The heat between her thighs called to him, but he had to get this out.

“I don’t think—” He swallowed hard, wondering if he was just being stupid, then blurted it out. “We shouldn’t have penetrative sex.”

Don’t ask why don’t ask why don’t—

She blinked like she was in a daze. “Okay?”

She sounded confused and he couldn’t blame her. But she hadn’t asked why, and she hadn’t called a stop to this, so he dropped his voice to a purr and moved his hand so it covered her mound. “But don’t worry, querida. I’m going to make you feel so good.”

“Just touch me,” she whined, arching impatiently against his hand.

He couldn’t make either of them wait any longer. Slowly, he brought his middle finger down and slid it gently over her folds.

Jasmine threw her head back. “God, yes. Keep going.”

He did it again, this time his fingertip slipping between and gathering her wetness. He parted her with two fingers and found her clit, rubbing it in small circles. She cried out against his lips, and he was lost. The taste of her, the smell of her, the feel of her so close against him, skin to skin. Time and space had no meaning anymore. There was only her.

“Lube,” she whispered mid-kiss, so quick he almost missed it.

“?Dónde?”

“Drawer.”

He yanked open the bedside drawer, almost ripping it out of the nightstand in his haste, and removed a small zippered pouch. When he opened it, he found all sorts of interesting battery-operated things, but he only removed the small bottle of clear gel she’d asked for. After squirting some onto his hand, he reached between her legs again, groaning as his fingers sank right in.

She stretched her arms up over her head on the pillow. Eyes closed, she let out a throaty sigh every time he thrust into her, and a high moan when he slicked his fingertips over her clit. Unable to take it anymore, he kissed her hard, swallowing her sounds as her sheath, so tight and so hot, squeezed his fingers, killing him slowly. How good would she feel around his dick?