I reached for him, rolled the condom down over his length.
Ashton groaned low in his throat, his body tensing above mine, hips twitching at the contact.
His hands braced on either side of my head, knuckles whitening slightly.
He murmured my name, voice rough with pleasure.
I swallowed hard, eyes flicking up to his face.
There was no alcohol clouding my senses this time, no hazy veil to soften the edges.
Every sensation was vivid, raw.
The memory of that first night in the hotel came rushing back. Not just the physicality, but the vulnerability, the reckless thrill of giving myself to someone who made me feel both fearless and fragile all at once.
That night, I’d been drunk.
Now, I was wide awake, and drowning in feeling.
Watching me closely, Ashton pressed inside slowly, inch by torturous inch, letting me stretch and adjust, his jaw clenched tight as he fought for control.
I gasped softly, arching into him, my fingers curling into his shoulders.
My body softened around him, opening, welcoming.
He didn’t move at first, just held himself there, buried deep, forehead resting against mine.
‘You good?’ he asked, voice hoarse.
I nodded, blinking back tears I hadn’t realised had formed. ‘Yes. Don’t stop.’ Fresh chapters posted on novel·fire·net
He kissed me then, slow and sweet.
Each thrust was careful, coaxing my nerves alight until warmth pooled low in my belly.
My body responded instinctively, hips rising to meet his rhythm, shyness melting under the weight of desire.
When I moaned into his mouth, Ashton exhaled sharply through his nose, his pace beginning to quicken.
His control began to slip.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, drawing him deeper, nails tracing lines down his back.
I met each of his thrusts with a roll of my hips, my earlier hesitation entirely forgotten.
He shifted, angling deeper, and I cried out, clutching at him tighter.
The bed groaned beneath our movement, the air thick with sweat and want.
Our bodies moved together like we’d always known how, like we’d never been apart.
When the climax hit, it crashed over us in waves, simultaneous, shattering.
Ashton buried his face in my neck, growling my name as he spilled into me, his muscles taut and trembling.
I clung to him, heart racing, breath ragged.
I thought it was over, but then his lips found mine again, softer this time, and his voice rumbled against my skin.
And I let him take me again. Harder this time. Faster.
Again and again until I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began.
The pressure behind my eyes faded, colours bleeding into one another at the edges of my vision.
I must have blacked out for a moment, because the next thing I registered was Ashton’s voice, low and coaxing, calling me back.
I woke up tangled in his arms, face warm and damp, eyelids heavy.
Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows across his chest.
He was still half-curled around me, breathing steady, asleep.
I didn’t move. I just lay there, listening to the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my cheek.
Everything felt... right.
Until his hands started roaming.
From the corner of my mouth, down my neck, along my collarbone, tracing the curve of my waist.
His palm stayed pressed against my skin, reluctant to pull away.
I pulled back to look at his face.
His eyes were still closed.
‘Liar. What time is it?’
‘Two in the afternoon.’
‘What?’ I sat up, slapped his hand away. ‘Ow!’
‘Just sore. And keep your hands to yourself.’ My skin smelled clean. ‘Did you give me a bath?’
He nodded, kissed my cheek. ‘Let’s have another. This time with you awake.’
‘Nope.’ I tried to shuffle out of bed but my legs wouldn’t cooperate.
His hands landed on my waist again. ‘Sore? I’ll give it a rub.’
It helped a little. The way his hands stroked, kneaded, and rolled felt like he’d studied massage somewhere.
The pressure soothed some of the tension.
But then his hands strayed, fingers teasing beyond comfort.
I caught his wrist before it wandered any further. ‘I’m starving. Can we eat?’
‘Sure.’ Ashton let go, still grinning.
I shot him a look, shoved the sheets down, and realised I was naked.
I yanked the blanket back over my chest. ‘Can you grab me a nightdress or something?’
He chuckled under his breath. ‘Yeah.’
He threw the covers off and stood.
I saw everything. Broad shoulders. Muscled thighs.
He strolled to the wardrobe like he wasn’t completely naked, slid the door open, picked through the hangers, then turned and came back without covering a single inch of himself.
I tried not to stare.
‘Here.’ He stopped at the edge of the bed, holding up one of my silk slips. Arm stretched full length, completely out of reach.
I threw off the duvet and stood, snatched the nightdress out of his hand, and tugged it on without bothering to turn away.
This time, he stared.
He took a step forward.
I yanked the hem down, jumped off the bed, and announced, ‘I’m getting food.’
My foot landed on a crumpled blouse.
I nearly went face-first into the nightstand.
Ashton reached out fast.
I dodged faster. ‘I’ve got it. Don’t touch me.’
One more brush of skin and I knew I’d be back in that bed with him.
‘I’ll have someone bring food up,’ he said. ‘Just eat in here.’
‘Nope. I’m eating downstairs.’
If food showed up in my room, the entire damn household would know I couldn’t walk straight.
I wasn’t giving anyone that satisfaction.
I didn’t care if I had to limp across the marble floor or use my hands.