Chapter 27
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No man should be able to wipe away every drop of sorrow with a kiss, but Asher manages it without effort. It's only our third kiss, but he kisses me like we're familiar lovers, finding the perfect way to angle our mouths and pressing his tongue on mine just how I like it.
'Asher," I whisper.
'Do you want me to stop?" He kisses my shoulder, moving the strap of my dress down my arm until it drapes on my elbow. His mouth explores the new patch of untouched skin. 'Say the word, ptichka. I'll do as you ask."
His hands glide my other strap down. There's nothing holding my dress up but my chest as it rises and falls with my every quickening breath. Just tell him you don't want this. My hands circle his strong neck as the words die in my throat. One word and he'll end it. One little word and this stops. My nails scrape down his deltoids, feeling every groove.
Asher's breath scalds my cheek. He's waiting, the moment hanging in the air like a drop of dew on a leaf.
I'm standing on a cliff, and this is my last opportunity before I fall. But the time to say stop is long gone.
Instead of doing the logical thing, I reach up, grip his jaw, and bring our mouths together in a fiery kiss, choosing to jump off the cliff into him.
My quiet permission sends Asher into a frenzy. Thick fingers squeeze my hips as he lifts and spins me until I'm sitting on his desk. Notebooks fly to the floor. A lamp topples loudly, but he ignores it all.
I'm the only thing he cares about.
'Camila," he breathes. 'I've wanted this for longer than you know."
I shake my head lightly. 'You're not as subtle as you think."
He smiles in amusement, and my heart melts at the sight. In one smooth motion, he hikes my dress up over my thighs, exposing my white lace panties. The front is transparent, already soaked from my wetness.
'Neither are you," he whispers, his voice straining with desire.
I blush, but I still grab the front of his shirt, yanking him against me until the heat rolling off his powerful body envelops me. Asher growls down my throat. The vibration from the kiss shakes me to my bones, until I swear my whole body is trembling like a guitar string that has been plucked.
I fumble for his belt, but his weight traps my hands between us.
'Please," I urge him. 'I want this."
His fingers twist in my hair, creating tension through my scalp that flares with a new wave of desire. 'I'm in charge, understand?"
'I didn't agree to that."
'You did when you didn't walk out of this room." Asher pulls at my hair until my bun comes undone. My soft brown curls tickle my shoulders, sending goose bumps dotting across my exposed skin. Suddenly I'm aware of just how sensitive my skin has become. Each sigh of desire, each drop of sweat, and each lingering stroke of his hands leaves me shivering and wanting more. I'm attuned and keyed up for Asher, waiting for what he'll do next.
He presses on me until I get the hint. Leaning backward, I splay out on his desk. He stands over me, planted between my thighs with his hands resting on my hips. His stare undresses me long while his fingers remain still. He gazes at me like I'm a treasure map that will lead him to gold.
I haven't felt this wanted in a long time. He's looking at me like he can see me. The part of me that I've locked away from the world. It makes me feel like I am valuable.
It's silly, but it's exactly what I want right now.
'Tak krasivaya," he whispers again. His fingertip runs over my dress, between my breasts, down to my navel. I instinctively arch into his touch with a low moan, pressing my soaked panties into his palm and drawing an appreciative hiss from his throat. 'You have no idea what you're doing to me, Camila."
'Nor you me …" I start to sit up, but he nudges me back down.
'Stay," he says firmly. 'And enjoy."
He scoops his shirt over his head, revealing his naked torso to me for the first time. It takes my breath away. I've tried to picture what he looks like under his perfectly fitting clothes, and although I knew he'd be a living Adonis, I didn't expect so many tattoos. I spy spikes painted on his shoulders. When he bends lower, I see that they're eight-pointed stars. His bare forearms are black with images of knives.
He shifts, placing his shirt on the floor. At that angle, I have a chance to glimpse his back. Not all of it, just enough to see there's a church engraved in his flesh.
He catches me staring and asks. 'What's wrong?"
'Your tattoos." Sitting up on the desk, I reach out to brush the star on his left shoulder. 'Let me see them."
'All of them?"
There's an undercurrent of danger in his voice. A wicked promise that seeing all of them will require more clothing to be stripped away. At my slight nod, he unclips his belt. My knees squeeze together from the sound of it sliding from the loops. Watching me closely, he unzips his pants. They're pushed down his hips, exposing black briefs that barely contain his massive erection.
His thighs are thick with muscle. I could use his obliques for handlebars. The paths around his abdominals are deep enough to fill with water without losing a drop. Where does a man who does so much scheming find the time to work out? Is he naturally built like this?
Asher steps backward to give me the full picture. I see stars on his knees that match his shoulders. He twists, showing the rugged expanse of his back. I was right: it's a church inscribed over his shoulder blades and spine. It's lovely, but above it is the terrifying image of a spider.
'Layla told me about the tattoos in the Bratva," I say. Inching off the desk, I approach him. He remains where he is, watching me over his shoulder. My hand touches one of the stars. 'What do these all mean?"
He hesitates. 'I don't want to ruin the mood."
'You won't." I feel all the muscles in his arm flex under my palm. My pussy clenches in response. No, nothing he says can ruin this. I'm sure of it.
Asher points to the spider first. 'This signifies that I'm an active criminal."
That's not a shocker. 'And the church?"
One by one, he taps the many spires on the building. He has to stretch his other arm over his neck to reach them all. 'The number of charges I've collected throughout my life. So far." Facing me, Asher flips his arms over to show me his forearms. The knives are detailed enough that I brush them as carefully as I would real blades. 'These are proof that I'm a known killer."
Again, I'm not shocked. My eyes dart to the prayer beads hanging off his wrist. I don't touch them the way I do his ink.
Taking my wrists, Asher makes me feel the star on his right and left shoulders. I hold my breath while we stand close together. He's almost naked, and my dress doesn't offer me any protection. Can he feel my pulse buzzing through my veins?
'The stars on my shoulders tell the world that I am the pakhan. And the stars on my knees …" In a single motion, he forces me down to my knees in front of him as his erection throbs behind the thin material of his boxers at eye level. 'Tell the world that I kneel for no one."
Positioned at his feet, I gaze up at his serious face. Asher is bigger than any tower I've climbed. He is a colossus that can't be broken or beaten down. I've always been strong and never thought of myself as the type to ever want to be in such a position—like a supplicant begging for alms—before a man. Musk hangs thick in the air as his cock pulses, tempting me closer. Wet heat grows between my legs. And when I catch Asher's eyes, I know that his gaze is reserved only for me.
And just like that, my resolve crumbles away.
'I don't mind kneeling for you," I whisper. I tug at my hands, and he releases them. 'I actually really like it."
Reaching up, I trace my nails over his pelvis, across the top elastic of his boxers. His cock twitches in response through the tight material. He moans, and the sound crashes down toward me like an avalanche. My fingers slip beneath his underwear, tugging it out of the way to release his cock.
It juts out at me, red and angry like a weapon, with enough spring that it bounces into the air and arches proudly toward the ceiling. The tip is decorated with a pearly drop of precum, and my mouth waters at the thought of swallowing him whole.
He whispers something in Russian, something so quiet that I can't hear. But I don't need to hear the words to know what he's talking about.
Me. Me. Me.
His anticipation makes my arousal skyrocket. Gripping the base, I give the length of his shaft a slow lick. I make it to the raised underside of his cock head, then slide back down. Though I can't get my thumb and pointer to touch when circling him, he fits comfortably in my palm.
Pumping his shaft, I watch how his ruddy tip vanishes, then appears each time I jerk him. With each slow motion over his cock, another shiny bead of pre-cum tempts me. Flattening my tongue, I curl my tongue over it with a moan, letting his salty musk fill my nose and mouth. He's delicious. Each taste I get, I want more. Is it possible to sustain yourself on cum? For Asher, I'd try … And that dirty thought has me rocking on my knees. Recklessly, I suck him past my lips, bobbing my head as I try to take every inch. Locks of my hair drag over his cock from the movement. I start to brush them away, but then I find a better use for my hands.
Gingerly, I cup his balls, exploring the heavy weight of them. I've never done anything like this, yet it feels so natural with him. Asher brings a wild side of me to the surface. Still fisting his shaft, I stop licking his cock head and start lapping at his sac, feeling his balls hardening in response. Asher trembles, his hands on my head.
'Don't you fucking stop," he whispers.
Fondling him eagerly, I kiss my way back up his length. His ample veins pulse under my touch. Imagining him forcing out spurts of cum down my throat has me gulping his whole cock as deep as I can go.
He grabs me by my elbows and yanks me to my feet. Gasping, I notice the way his pupils dilate wildly. 'What's wrong?" I ask.
'I'm not a patient man, Camila, despite what you may think." There's a small couch along the far wall. It's the same black color as the ink on his body. He brings me there, sets me down, and bends over me to kiss me without delay. I don't have time to prepare myself.
With Asher, I don't think you can ever be prepared.
He takes what he wants without warning. A man who kneels for no one. I don't doubt it; he commands an army of killers who must do whatever he says.
The power he wields once annoyed me. It once filled me with irritation at the thought that he simply expects me to obey him. On what authority?
But now, as I lie beneath him, his naked chest rubbing on my nipples through my dress, I understand precisely what authority he has over all that he rules.
I understand the authority he wields over me.
It's pointless to fight. My body wants to be commanded. I want him to take all control away from me. The thought that he will do whatever he wants, to shove my legs aside and use me until my throat becomes raw from screaming in pleasure … it's more than thrilling.
It's intoxicating.
A new fire builds inside of me—a searing heat that makes my clit swell, not from fear but from a desire so intense that I never realized it could exist. Asher, if anything, has proven his need to protect me. His certainty in who he is and what he wants is the most appealing part of him. He willingly stood before me, naked, save for the art on his flesh, and explained his twisted life tainted by blood.
He isn't ashamed of what he is.
And in his hands, neither am I.
His teeth clip my bottom lip. Pressing himself upward, he reaches between us to peel my dress down my breasts. Sliding lower on the couch puts his face level with my firm nipples. They're tight from excitement; the air on them is enough to make my breath come faster. Then he cradles one between two fingers, tugging gently.
'Oh," I cry out. 'Oh my God …"
Manipulating my nipples with both hands, Asher moves between them, suckling until they're soaked in saliva. Each lick sends another jolt of lightning to my pussy. A light tweak of my right nipple encourages me to push my breast into his palm. I writhe under him, driving my hips up against his cock. The friction glides over my mound—if I gyrate hard enough, fast enough, I'll shatter before he's even inside of me.
My nails drag down his massive back, leaving behind trails over the impressive tattoos. Pink stripes mix with the black. My marks won't be permanent. That thought wakes something primal in me; I grip harder, clawing him with all my power. It has to hurt, but he doesn't even flinch.
'You're so fucking eager, Camila." His voice is husky—he's wound up just like me. Grinding himself against my body, he bites down lightly on my left nipple. The pressure builds and I whimper. My inner thighs are slick with my own arousal. He dips two fingers down to feel my panties. 'You'll ruin my expensive couch at this rate."
'Stop teasing me," I beg. 'I can't take anymore."
'Liar." In a single yank, he tears my panties off and throws them across the room. 'But I'm not as cruel as you think. I'll give you what you want." Asher adjusts his position. When he does, I lift my legs, wrapping them around his body. I'm afraid he'll leave me panting, shaking, lusting for satisfaction.
But he doesn't.
Aiming himself, he centers his cock at the junction of my thighs as he spreads me with ease.
The angry red tip of his cock pushes inside of me, and my heart practically leaps to my throat in joy.
'Asher!" I shriek, throwing my head back on the couch.
He's barely an inch inside, and I feel like I'll come from that alone. I knew he was big; when I gave him a blowjob, it left my jaw aching. But being fucked by him is like being torn apart in the best possible way.
Pain and pleasure mix until I'm dizzy.
How did we get here?
How is this really happening?
Most importantly, how is it so damn good?
Something touches my chin—he's gripping me, turning me to kiss him. Those perfect teeth nibble at my lower lip, and his tongue sweeps into my mouth. He leans in, kissing long, then kissing brief. I'm delirious from trying to predict his actions. He gets off on leaving me wondering what he'll do. My hands ball into fists, clenching uselessly to the last shred of control while my brain screams at me to give in.
To let him take control.
To let him use me.
My tongue probes forward to meet his, and our lips lock above as our bodies do below.
A single thrust and he's buried to the hilt.
The sensation of being filled like this is intoxicating. His girth would be painful if I was not already incredibly turned on. My pussy clenches eagerly, drawing him in, begging him to stay, pleading with him to touch me in places that no other man can reach but him.
The bliss makes me blind. He withdraws, letting me see the beauty of his length shining with my juices. The fat tip of his dick is barely inside. I have a perfect view of his veins standing out like a map to heaven.
It's almost too much.
Then Asher finally begins to fuck me.
