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18

DELILAH

W hat was meant to be an innocent kiss soon becomes more. Asher grabs my ass with both hands and grinds into me. His teeth come out as he nips my bottom lip and clumsily walks me backwards. My back hits the counter edge and he grinds into me as I thread my fingers together at his nape.

He grabs the back of my thighs as he kisses across my jaw and quickly pulls me up to sit on the counter. Each movement is faster than the last and my mind can’t keep track when he groans into my neck.

“Fuck, baby, I haven’t tasted you in so long. I’m going to die if I wait any longer.”

His fingers dig into my knees, and he drops down, pushing them even further apart so that I’m nearly doing the splits. There’s no more build up as he bites the lace between my thighs and roughly drags it down, making me slide against the counter.

My hand whips out and I grab his hair for stability. The feeling of his tongue doesn’t help me. It makes me grind into him, uncaring if I fall.

“Fuck, Asher,” I moan. “More.”

He bites into my inner thigh, hard enough that his teeth marks will be dented into my skin, and my head falls back, hitting the cabinet door. A loud blaring ringtone stops him and he looks up in the direction of his office.

I don’t even get a second look as he stands mechanically and walks out of the room. His jaw is tense, eyes wild, and his back flexes with each step, but his dick is still hard through his sweats.

What in the fuck?

I may have my own issues, but so does he. The personality switch is strange, and I slide off the counter, pulling my panties on as I drop to my feet. The door isn’t closed, and I look down the hallway as the ringtone comes to an end. His low, stilted voice replaces it.

“Yes, officer.”

My feet carry me forward until I’m closer to the threshold of his office. Screens line each wall and I tilt my head to look through the gap. I haven’t entered the room because I thought it would be boring, but it’s filled with a bunch of computers. I can’t remember a time where Asher cared about that shit. He always said they were boring when we were kids and he’d call Kane a nerd for wanting to be a coder. But he’s created that business and credited Kane for its inception because this Asher is sentimental.

He stands facing a wall full of screens showing different angles of the property. It’s a live feed and there are even cameras inside the house. He turns his head before the screen changes to show me in the hallway, his eyes downcast, and he tries to smile but it falls straight away as he walks towards me.

As soon as I’m within reach, he wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side while ending his conversation.

“Like I said, I’ll come to the station tomorrow. Thanks for getting in touch with me directly, I appreciate it.”

Have they found the freak? Is he real?

My blood turns to ice because if he’s real, then so was last night. If it’s real, then it wasn’t a dream and I’m the worst person in existence because I cheated on my caring husband who has already been through enough shit because of me.

Asher ends his call and slips his phone into his pocket, acting like nothing has happened.

“Let’s see if your cooking has improved, Lilo,” he says easily. Too easily.

There’s no strain in his voice and he guides me to the table in the corner of the kitchen. All the earlier tension has disappeared and I’m sure he’s the crazy one for acting normal as he sets our food in front of us. Not knowing what the police wanted is making me itchy. I already have to deal with the world I knew changing around me on a daily basis and battling my memories. The silence is suffocating so I break it as he takes his seat. “What did the police want?”

He pauses with his fork in his hand and acts like I haven’t spoken.

“Did you follow a recipe?” Turning to me, he adds with a smile, “You usually burn toast.”

I sit taller in my seat and try to remove the confusion from my voice. “Yeah, I found one online.”

Circumstances forced me to learn to cook while I was working at the diner, and I hated eating anything processed after smelling it all day. I taught myself after getting away from my family and I’d follow different recipes. That isn’t a false memory when I’ve clearly been able to follow a recipe again and there’s something edible in front of me. I may have burnt the sauce the first time I made it, but the second batch is fine, and it isn’t making Asher cough.

I watch Asher from the corner of my eye as I absentmindedly twirl my fork through the spaghetti. He doesn’t lean back in his seat and watches his food as though it’s going to disappear. Every mouthful is eager, and I quickly look away when his eyes dart to me.

“It’s good, baby. I’m proud of you.”

I don’t say anything because I’m still confused about his earlier comment, but he looks over my shoulder and covers his laugh with the edge of the napkin as he wipes his lips.

“Is this the second or third attempt?”

“Second?”

“You’re getting better. Earmark the recipe and we’ll cook together next time.” I nod and he does the same as he cups my cheek and softly asks, “Need a distraction, baby?”

I nod again.

Setting his fork on the side of the plate, he grabs the leg of my chair and drags me closer. My knee knocks into his until he lifts me out of the seat and places me on his thighs with my back to his chest. I try to stand and open my mouth to tell him I’m fine, but he lifts his hips and pulls his sweats down to free his dick.

“Sit down and eat, Delilah.”

His voice is deeper and brushes the side of my neck as he widens my thighs and pushes my panties to the side. Without saying another word, he wraps his arm around my hips and pulls me down to not only sit on him, but sit on him with his dick inside me.

I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep my moan back and there’s no reaction behind me. He just picks up his fork, drags my plate closer, and gestures towards it with the metal tines.

“Eat,” he says like this is another totally normal thing to do.

My voice wobbles as I tense every muscle in my body to get a reaction out of him. “I’m a bit too distracted to stuff my face right now.”

He gently rests his fork against the edge of the plate and picks up the napkin again. There’s no tension in his body like he’s holding himself back. He’s perfectly content to sit like this while I squirm. I focus on the napkin as he folds it over his forefingers and rests the side of his palm against the table. The white linen is the most fascinating thing in the world until Asher leans into me and speaks slowly, making me feel every vibration of his words through his chest.

“Eat your food, Delilah, and keep my dick warm until I’m ready for you.”

I shakily pick up my fork, earning a soft kiss to my jaw, and he drops his hand from my hip to between my legs. My thighs tremble, matching the tremor that has overtaken my hand at the first brush of his fingers against my clit. The napkin is gently placed on the table, and he starts eating again.

This is torture.

I manage to maintain control of my hand enough for the tines to touch my lips. But he presses his two middle fingers against my clit, and my hand trembles. The fork clatters as buttery spaghetti sticks to my t-shirt.

“Don’t make a mess.” Asher tuts while moving his fingers in slow circles. “It’s even on your thighs, Delilah.”

I don’t know when the fuck he managed to gain the whole authoritative voice, but I’m not complaining about it. He sounds so much more mature than I remember him, and it must have come with age. His chest inflates against my back, and I lean into him as he says, “Eat.”

It’s so deep and soothing despite the fact he’s commanding me like a dog. I can’t stop myself and roll my hips as I brush the dropped food off my clothes. The movement is noticed straight away, and I freeze.

“Delilah,” he says in warning as he wraps his hand around my throat. His lips brush my ear as he drops his voice. “Continue being a desperate little slut and I’ll leave you empty.”

Both options are bad. I whimper pathetically as I try to turn my head to look at him. It turns into a gasp when he tightens his hold on my neck and roughly keeps me in place. The fork clatters against the plate and there’s a split second before carnage erupts.

Gripping the edge of the glass dining table, Asher lifts it and pushes it with so much force it wobbles on two legs before it loses stability. Glass, cutlery, and our food hits the floor. The sound is broken by his dark voice.

“Now, get up and feed me.”

I stand on wobbly legs, mourning the loss of fullness. “Feed him” has too many implications and I choose the stupidest one as I try to walk to the stove and make him another plate. He grabs my hips and quickly turns me so that I half fall over him. His hands drop to my thighs to keep me steady and his fingers dig into my skin as he raises to his full height to swap our positions.

My ass has barely touched the seat when he lowers to his knees. The shattered porcelain crunches under his knees. I try to get him to stand so he isn’t hurt, but he pulls my thighs apart and I grab his shoulder as the chair legs scrape against the floor.

My back arches as he pushes his face between my thighs. My crown nearly touches the backrest and my other hand threads through his hair as I tighten my thighs around his head.

“Fuck, Asher!” I scream.

He stops and pushes his fingers flat against my inner thighs. His eyes are the darkest I’ve ever seen them as he pushes my thighs apart and snaps, “Shut the fuck up.”

They soften a fraction when I flinch at the venom in his tone and he adds, “You are my slut to use. Not listen to.”

My mouth opens to say something, but he jumps up. His dick bobs from the movement and little pieces of glass fall from his sweats. There’s no further touching because he turns and tucks his dick away. My heart sinks and my skin heats as he walks away to the other side of the kitchen. I watch him, waiting for him to turn around, but he keeps walking until he reaches a drawer.

The runner screeches and he slams it closed before turning around with something balled in his fist. I can’t work out what it is because my heart races and adrenaline forces me to watch his eyes as he advances. There’s something darker, almost sinister, in the way he stalks towards me, his face set in hard lines, then he roughly grabs my jaw. He gently presses against the sides until I open my mouth and stuffs what’s in his hand between my teeth. The clean linen napkin dries my mouth out, but I can’t spit it out as he presses his palm over my mouth.

“When we leave this room, I’m going to treat you like the whore you want to be. But you are still my wife, understood?”

I smile despite how awkward it is with the makeshift gag and nod once. It’s rewarded instantly as he strokes over my hair cooing, “Good girl.”

He dips down and kisses my forehead so softly my lashes flutter closed, needing to extend the moment. His lips don’t leave as he lifts me out of the seat and carries me out of the kitchen away from the glass.

Setting me on my feet, he strokes over my hair again and holds the end in his fist as he hardens his voice. “On your hands and knees.” I lower. “And crawl.”

He holds my hair like a leash and my neck is strained as I place my palms flat on the floor in front of me. My skin is pulled taut when he takes half a step back and cool air brushes my heated skin as he flips the hem of the t-shirt up so it’s on my lower back, exposing me.

Tapping against my ankle, he roughly orders, “Wider. You’re all mine and you’re never going to hide it from me again.”

I can’t keep my moan back and widen my legs. A harder tap hits my calf with his reprimand.

“This isn’t for your pleasure, slut,” he spits out. It has the opposite impact than what he intended. A low dark laugh disturbs the air, and he adds, “You’re soaked.”

A sharp tug pulls my head back, sending pleasurable tingles through my scalp.

“Now move and show me how much of a desperate little slut you are for your husband’s cock.”

I’m drooling, I’m sure of it.

My palms glide over the floor as I crawl forward. The pressure against my scalp increases and he pulls, making it more difficult. Each inch is fought for while he slowly walks behind me. I add an extra sway into my hips, hoping it will make him snap. But Asher is controlled and only reduces the strain against my neck when we reach the bottom of the stairs. He steps up onto the bottom step and gestures for me to continue with a nod of his head.

My knees scrape against the runner as I carefully crawl up. He doesn’t walk ahead. But his hold on my hair is gentler, allowing me to prepare for each incline. It turns rougher when we reach the middle of the staircase and I have to look down my nose to see the step in front of me. My spine is forced to curve, and a deep curse is the only warning I get before weight bears down on me.

“Fuck this.”

My scream is garbled as he drops over me and wraps his forearm around my neck. The napkin dulls the sound and soaks up my spit while my eyes widen and blur my vision. He’s even bigger in this position and there’s no mental preparation before he pushes inside of me in one thrust.

My air is cut off from my head falling forward against the bar of his forearm. The napkin begins to drop from my open mouth, but he slaps his palm over my lips and forces it to remain in place as he pulls out to the tip and slams back into me. My knees knock into the riser, the dull thuds providing a rhythmic backdrop to his labored cursing.

“Fuck, baby.”

I grip the tread in front of me and my knuckles bleach from the force. My nails scrape against the small fibers and he holds my face tighter, his forearm pressing further into my windpipe, and each thrust getting progressively harder.

My head falls forward as he slides his arm away from my neck and lets go of my mouth. The napkin stops my sounds being heard fully and he grabs my hair in his fist as he pulls out of me.

“Make me lose my mind,” he says under his breath. “How did I go so long without you?”

The last part is even lower, and guilt sinks me. It shouldn’t. Logically I know that there was something wrong with me and I clearly wasn’t in the right place mentally. But it only makes me love him even more for forcing his own desire back during that entire time.