Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 49294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
Maybe one day, I’ll have the courage to go after what I want. Tonight is not that that day, and tomorrow isn’t looking good either. Plus, Asher isn’t home. Believe me, I know. In between piddling here and there, my eyes seem to wander toward his house. The driveway where his gun-metal gray truck usually sits has been empty for hours now.
“Get over it, Lennon. You’re thirty-five, divorced, and dating scares you.” I flip the light on and study myself in the mirror. This is a work in progress. Whereas I’d usually find fault in my body, telling myself to lose weight, exercise more, or that I should do something different with my hair, I’m at peace with how I look now. It’s taken a bit of healing some of the past trauma with my therapist, but I’m getting somewhere.
Instead of going down a dark and slippery slope, I look at my body. My full breasts that have a slight sag as I cup them, my cherry-red nipples that harden and ache. When I trace each with the tip of my finger, my flesh pebbles along the length of my body. My head drops back on my shoulders as I think about Asher, wondering what it would feel like if it were him working me up. Maybe he’d be behind me, one hand cupping my breast, the other sliding down my stomach and cupping me. I do what I’d imagine Asher would do, only he’d be holding me up instead of me trying not to let my knees buckle. I’d be blanketed in his warmth, feeling the stubble from his slight beard rub along my neck. My hands would dig into the back of his thighs, holding on for dear life while working my hips as he slams two fingers inside of me.
“Asher,” I moan into the empty room. My voice echoing off the tiled walls as I work my clit with the press of my thumb. I curve my fingers, hitting deeper with each inward movement. My orgasm hits hard and fast, and wetness saturates me, more so than I thought possible. I’m dripping down the insides of my thighs, leaking down my legs, and my hand is soaked, too. A boneless heap, that’s what I am. I grip the countertop at the last minute when my body starts quivering.
“Holy shit,” I breathe out when I finally catch my breath. My forehead is propped on my arm along the counter, my body is bent over because my legs are like Jell-O. Attempting to pull myself together is going to be easier said than done. As I’m pulling my fingers out of my drenched pussy, my muscles decide they’re not nearly done. Never in my life have I been able to have two orgasms back-to-back. Especially not with the name we won’t be speaking.
I lift myself up off the counter and attempt to get my limbs in action, when all I want is to be thrown on the bed and let Asher take me any way he wants me. Since that isn’t likely to happen, I do the next best thing, minus my toy because its dead-dead. Which reminds me, the next time I have my laptop open, I’m going to look for something new, maybe one you can plug it in to recharge instead of being dependent on batteries. There’s nothing worse than being mid-orgasm when your toy dies.
A few minutes later, I’m able to walk to the shower and hit the nozzle to turn the hot water on. I step over the ledge of the tub, letting the hot water coat my body, and saturate my hair. The last thing I wanted to do was wash my hair, but the orgasm I just gave myself coated my entire body in sweat, so it’s now a necessity. When the water rains down on the front of my body, a zing runs through me, making me greedy for another orgasm. Damn, Asher Fontaine is giving me more orgasms than I’ve ever had, and he isn’t even aware.
I take the nozzle off the showerhead. This contraption has the water running from the head and the hand-held part. I run it over my chest, feeling the vibrations against my aching breasts and nipples. I’m still weak from climaxing in front of the mirror. Not wanting to fall, I plant my back against the cold tile and close my eyes. This time when I work myself back up again, it’s with Asher on his knees in front of me. His big hands cup my ass, my leg is thrown over his shoulder, and he’s lapping me from clit to ass. My fingers grip his chocolate-brown hair while his vibrant green eyes hold my own captive. I move the nozzle down the length of my body, lifting my leg up to the ledge. This old house has the original tub, big, sunken, and deep, and, in this instance, it’s helping me out. One day soon, I’m going to take the longest bath of the century.