How much he loves I’m his.

How much it drives him insane.

How much he wants me.

They’re all a translation of my own emotions. Asher and I might not see eye to eye on everything, but right now? Right now, our lips and tongues are doing all the talking.

His grip on my wrists hardens as he angles my head with his free hand to kiss me thoroughly. Asher isn’t interested in a mere kiss. He wants to conquer me whole so there’s no part of me left for the taking.

So every inch of my being belongs to him.

He releases my wrists so he can pull my top and sports bra over my head. When it tangles against my hair, he rips the top off.

The power in his strong hands and the unrestrained desire in his eyes cause me to pant.

No. Not mere desire.

That look is so predatory like he’s been waiting a long time for this moment.

Maybe I’ve been waiting for it, too.

His fingers dig into the tender flesh of my breasts. My nipples pucker into tight nubs as he runs his thumbs over them. The friction shoots straight between my legs.

Oh, God. This is pure torture.

His ferocious gaze slides from my nipples to my face that must be all flushed and red. “These tits are mine, too, aren’t they?”

I nod.

He pinches one between his fingers and I hiss a breath at the pleasure mixed with pain. “Does it hurt, prom queen?”

I bite my lower lip to cage the whimper trying to escape.

He leans over and bites the other nipple into his mouth, nibbling on it. “Answer. Me.”

“Yes…it does,” I pant.

“Do you hate it?” His slight scruff scratches against the sensitive skin of my breasts.

“N-no.”

He lifts his head, a grin tilting his lips. “No?”

I must be out of my mind because all I can do is shake my head. I don’t know what it is about Asher’s roughness that draws me in, but it’s there.

Like being carried away in a current. Like free-falling in a waterfall.

There’s something liberating about this type of pleasure mixed with pain.

Something like being…alive.

It’s like that gasp of air after drowning, the first breath after being reborn.

He releases my breasts so he can hook his fingers on the waistband of my shorts. “If I reach under these, will I find evidence?”

Goosebumps erupt on my skin as his knuckles drag down my overheated thighs. He throws my shorts and panties somewhere behind him.

He thrusts a hand between my naked thighs and dips a finger against my slick folds.

“Fuck.” He grunts. “You’re soaked.”

My trembling thighs willingly part for him as he slides his finger up and down my slit. He teases me with such ease, as if he knows my body more than I do.

His lean, rough digits are enough to start a low humming at the bottom of my stomach. The sensation alone nearly pushes me off the edge.

“Is this for me, prom queen?”

I look away, my cheeks flaming. It’s not due to embarrassment, but rather… arousal. I don’t want him to see my face right now or how much of an effect he has on me.

He tsks, a tinge of darkness in his tone. “That’s not how it works. Look at me.”

I don’t.

He thrusts a finger inside me and my back arches off the bed as my walls clench around his digit. “I said. Look. At. Me.”

Taking a deep breath, I slowly face him. I’m panting, my face heating like a pit of fire. My hair sticks to my temples with sweat and my lips are parted with the need for more.

So much more.

“When I order, you obey. When I ask, you fucking answer. That’s the only way this will go, got it?”

A sense of Déjà-vu hits me out of nowhere as I nod once.

“Open that mouth.”

I do. I just...do. My lips fall open, tingling with anticipation.

With his finger still inside me, Asher thrusts his free thumb between my lips. “Suck, like you mean it.”

I wrap my lips around his digit and keep eye contact as I lap on the skin with my tongue. He tastes fresh and masculine. My thighs clench around his other hand, begging for more.

He pulls back his thumb, and I pant as he presses it at my bottom lip.

“Now, answer me.” He works his finger inside me in an increasing rhythm. “Are you wet for me?”

Oh, God. Why does he have to say that with that extremely authoritative tone? I can’t resist that tone even if I tried to.

“Yes,” I murmur.

“I didn’t hear that.” He thrusts another finger, pounding both of them with a maddening urgency.

“Oh…oh…” My back lifts off the mattress as the wave hits me. It’s slow at first, too slow I barely feel it coming.

Then it slams into me in one go like that free fall from the waterfall. Like being caught in the eye of a storm.

“Say it, Reina,” he orders against my ear.

“You…it’s for you. Only you.”

“That’s my prom queen.” He claims my lips in an all-consuming kiss as the wave pushes me left and right. It takes me high, just to drop me back down again.

When I come down, he’s watching me with a hardened gaze, so consuming and…uncut. He’s not hiding any of his emotions right now.

He’s all bare.

If I were a better judge of feelings or not caught in the orgasm halo, I could’ve probably read those emotions.

I could’ve probably had something to go with.

But I don’t.

My chest rises and falls at a frightening speed. With each inhale, my nipples brush against his T-shirt, hardening even more.

I lie completely naked underneath him while he remains clothed. That’s not how it’s supposed to go.

Hooking my trembling fingers on either side of his T-shirt, I pull it over his head.

He lets me, but he’s watching me with a guarded expression. The uncut version is gone and his suspicious self is back on.

I hate it when he hides from me, when he builds forts and summons guards, when he calculates his every movement.

Soon, he won’t.

I’ll get under his skin as deep as he got beneath mine and he won’t be able to hide anything from me.

“What are you doing, prom queen?” His hands fist on either side of him as if he’s stopping himself from doing something.

“Making things fair.” I meet his gaze with my imploring one as I throw the T-shirt away.

“You never undressed me before.”

“I’ll fix that from now on.” I lean over and grab the waistband of his sweatpants and drag them down his legs.

His hard cock springs free of its confinements, and I get caught eyeing it. Asher grunts as I watch it. Almost as if he’s feeling me touch it.

“Fuck, Reina.” He kicks the sweatpants away and slams me back against the bed. “For the last goddamn time, what’s your game?”

“You,” I whisper.

“Reina,” he growls, impatience slipping into his tone. His dick twitches between my thighs, his impatience matching my own.

My fingertips touch the corner of his mouth. “It’s always been you.”

He pauses. I pause, too, realizing the weight of my words.

It’s always been you.

How long are we talking about? Since I regained my memories? Or does it go way back?