Chapter 3

ASHER

Emma’s transition from the bar to my apartment only takes a few drinks. In the brief moments of our conversation, I discover a lot about her.

She’s a businesswoman who designs and sells sex toys. She takes pride in her work, creating devices for women who need electronic assistance when their men fall short.

This tells me she’s never been with a man who prioritizes her pleasure. Sex is a shared journey, a mutual effort that culminates in shared satisfaction.

She moves silently around the room, pausing at the window to take in the cityscape. Her eyes twinkle in the afternoon light as she marvels at the view below.

I seize this moment to join her, briefly enclosing her in my arms as I point out my favorite sights. It’s a subtle test of our chemistry.

Instead of following my gaze, I watch Emma. Her barely concealed gasp, her hand against the glass as she feels my warmth behind her and resists leaning into me.

I take another gamble, guiding her hand to a distant point on the horizon—my parents’ property. “I grew up over there, far to the east,” I murmur into her neck.

Her hard swallow tells me she’s hooked. Armed with this knowledge, I retreat to the kitchen to fix us another drink before making my move.

This gives her time to decide if she truly wants this, without feeling pressured. Because I want my partners to be willing when we make love.

She doesn’t protest. Instead, she seems to gather herself, smiling at her reflection as if psyching herself up.

Given her past experiences, I suspect she’s reassuring herself that she can always find satisfaction later if this turns out to be another letdown. But I won’t let that happen. I won’t let her leave my bed unsatisfied.

“Drink?” I offer her the glass.

She doesn’t flinch or react. She’s been watching me approach.

“Thank you, Ash—” she murmurs.

I let her sip her drink, maintaining a respectful distance to ensure her comfort. Our conversation flows smoothly.

“You have a wonderful view from this apartment; it’s beautiful.”

“I like it,” I agree.

“Are you going to take me to bed now, Asher?” she asks boldly.

Her directness brings a smile to my face. Her confidence in expressing her desires is a breath of fresh air.

I extend my hand, inviting her to follow me. She does so without hesitation as I lead her to the guest room.

The guest room, you wonder? Well, it’s always tidy, and I didn’t have time to make my bed earlier.

I wouldn’t want her to experience my unkempt sheets, would I? The room gives off the exact impression I intended. Her surprised smile brings out that adorable dimple again.

“It’s pretty clean for a young man’s bedroom,” she observes.

“Living clean doesn’t hurt, Emma. Can I take your glass?” I ask.

She hands me her half-empty wine glass, probably realizing it’s her fourth. After setting it aside, I turn back to her, taking her nervous hands in mine.

I draw her close, cradling the back of her neck as I position her for a kiss. I give her a quick peck, then pull back to meet her gaze, ensuring she’s present and aware of my intentions.

Then I lean in again, slowly, sensually. Our lips meet in a passionate kiss that she responds to with a soft hum.

I release her hands, confident they’ll find their way to my chest. Sure enough, they do, her palms flat against me as she hurriedly unbuttons my shirt to feel my bare skin.

This is a common move for most women I’ve been with, and I’ve never quite understood why, but I don’t mind. I love the feel of a woman’s hands on me.

As her hands explore my body, I let mine do the same to hers—from her neck to her shoulders, down her arms and to her waist.

From her waist to her bottom, so perfectly shaped and full that my arousal is straining against the confines of my suit pants. My hands travel upward instead of down, finding the zipper of her dress, pushing the shoulders off and down her arms.

Her ample breasts are revealed, free and inviting. I can’t suppress the moan that escapes my throat. “Emma…” I let her name hang in the air between us as I guide the dress down her body and help her step out of it.

Now, she’s only wearing a black lace thong, revealing her neatly groomed sex. Tattoos of flowers adorn her thighs and left hip. I nod in approval.

“You’re so beautiful,” I tell her without hesitation, reaching forward to guide her onto the bed behind her.

I help her onto the mattress before walking over to the sound system installed in all the rooms. I turn on some sensual instrumental music and turn back to the bed to find Emma propped up on her arms, watching me.

Letting the music guide me, I sway my hips, shrugging off my shirt. It falls behind me, leaving my chest bare as I perform a slow dance for the woman in my bed.

She giggles, so I walk back toward her, unbuttoning my pants and letting them fall to the floor. I start to lower my underwear, but she stops me.

“Wait… Can I?” she asks, batting her eyelashes playfully.

I laugh, shrugging nonchalantly. “Sure, why not,” I agree, nodding.

She moves eagerly, kneeling on the bed before me, her hands poised above my waistline. Without hesitation, she pulls my underwear down my legs, and her appreciative sigh is all the confirmation I need.

I’m proud of my size, but I never tire of hearing a woman appreciate it for the first time. “Lay back, Emma,” I instruct, climbing onto the bed and guiding her onto the pillows.

She moves back awkwardly, her cheeks flushed. I wonder what kind of lover she’ll be. Loud? Shy? Quiet?

She swallows as I trail kisses down her body, starting at her shoulder, moving down her chest. Her sigh when I take a nipple into my mouth is noted. So she likes nipple play. Good to know!

I kneel between her legs, teasing her breasts while she lies silently beneath me. One hand is tangled in my hair while the other rests under mine.

“What are you doing?” Her voice is uncertain as I settle between her legs, my mouth hovering above her sex.

“Going down on you…” I frown at my own words, puzzled by her question.

She nods, just nods, so I take her silence as consent and flick my tongue out.

I continue until she’s tugging at my hair, her legs clamping around my face, and a muffled scream escapes her.

Her reaction makes me chuckle, right against her clit, because she’s got me trapped. Normally, I’d move on to penetration, but she’s got a pretty firm grip with her legs.

She mutters, “Fuck,” under her breath when she comes back to earth, releasing me. I immediately sit up on my knees.

“Favorite position?” I ask, feeling generous despite her making me wait.

“Whatever you choose,” she replies.

“Nope, you don’t make me wait and then deny me an answer. How do you like it, Emma?”

Her cheeks turn a deep red, and she answers a moment later. “Doggy,” she whispers, her voice barely audible, as if she’s embarrassed by her preference for this position.

I don’t let her discomfort linger. Swiftly, I turn her over, guiding her knees beneath her. Before she can even adjust, I slide into her, her body welcoming me with a warmth that makes us both groan in unison.

She tightens around me, pulling me deeper as if she wants every part of me inside her. I give in to her silent plea, pushing further into her.

I pause then, letting her adjust, letting the anticipation build before I start moving again. My heart pounds against my chest, my breaths come in short, ragged gasps.

The thrill of this, of us, is intoxicating, a high that rivals any drug. I force myself to be patient, to wait for her.

Only when her moans echo the ones she made earlier, when she came undone under my touch, do I increase my pace. The sound of our bodies meeting is harsh, the bed creaks beneath us, but I pay it no mind.

I focus on her, on bringing her to another climax while I throb inside her, filling her. ~Damn, I forgot the condom.~

I resist the urge to bang my head against the wall. Instead, I gently guide Emma to lie beneath me as I shift into an awkward half-lay on and beside her.

Our breaths are heavy, the room is quiet. But hell, I hope I’ve shown her that it’s not her toys she needs. It’s about the man she’s with.