Page 108 of The Rest is History
“So fucking good, Ash,” I moan.
He moves inside me, going further and further in with each exit and entry until he’s sliding smoothly in and out.
“Back it up for me, baby,” he tells me.
I push back with each thrust, riding Asher’s dick as much as he’s riding my hole. I’m shaking, my body moving of its own volition; I’m not in control. I’m his toy and his property and I’m his, all his, and this is all still so new, so how could we have taken our time?
I beat my cock in my fist, desperate, so desperate, and Asher leans forward to squeeze my throat. And I can’t hold on. My body is slick with sweat and tight with the thunderous approach of my orgasm. I brace. Slam back into Asher’s groin, and there it comes. Mountainous waves of pleasure, pulling me down into the blackest black and drowning me, and Asher is right there with me.
He gathers me close to him when our orgasms have ripped through us and destroyed us, holding me tightly against his body and murmuring words I can’t make out. We don’t bother cleaning up. He uses his cum to massage my ass. “So much for taking my time with you,” he murmurs against my hair.
I don’t have it in me to speak. I’m limbless, voiceless. But full. So full of love and happiness and rightnesss.
Asher’s phone buzzes. He reaches over to check his text and chuckles. I turn. “What is it?” I ask.
He turns his screen to me.
Sawyer: Don’t change the sheets.
I take Asher’s phone in my hand and hold it up to take a picture of my and Asher’s tangled limbs and hit send.
Sawyer: Yeah. Don’t change those sheets.
It’s around three am when the buzzing of my phone on the nightstand wakes me up. Asher is behind me, spooning me tightly. I reach over for my phone. It’s a text from my father: I’m going to sort this shit out.
Chapter 51
Asher
By late September, the Linksfield Eagles have won four out of the five regular season games. We’re not worried. We’ll make it to the playoffs.
“Coach Cameron?” Susan, from the office, comes up to me on the football field with a worried look on her face. “Principal Watson asked to have a word with you. He says he’s sorry to have to call you off the field, but it’s important.”
“It’s fine. Hey, Sam. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Sam gives me the thumbs up, and I follow Susan across the field. She opens the door to Principal Watson’s office, and I walk through. The quiet makes me nervous, and perhaps I’m imagining the formality of it all.
Principal Watson is seated at his desk. He rises when I enter, and it takes half a second – less – to understand that something is wrong. The playful edges of his eyes are absent, as well as the usually smiling face. It’s hard to decide how to greet him, so I give him a clipped nod and wait.
Finally, he speaks. “Ash, I always pride myself on being honest with my staff. You know that, right?”
“Right,” I say curiously.
“And I expect the same honesty from all my staff.”
“What’s this about Principal Watson?” My guard is up.
Watson sighs. “Look, Cameron. Maybe it’s because it’s election time and everyone’s losing their minds. I don’t know. I’m supposed to send you a formal notice, and I’m still going to do that, but I had to talk to you first.”
“Just tell me, sir.”
“It’s about that new guy.”
My heart begins to thud. “What new guy?”
“Sawyer’s coworker, Cameron.”
“Sawyer isn’t cheating,” I say, remembering our conversation from before the summer, and my head begins to pound when I remember the rumors started by Deliah and my conversation with Gerald.
