27: Raw and Reckless Part 04

Asher’s expression shifted, the lingering haze of passion in his eyes sharpening with a flicker of alarm, quickly replaced by a fierce, possessive determination that sent a shiver down my spine, a thrilling undercurrent beneath the fear. He reached out, pulling me roughly into his arms, his grip surprisingly firm, possessive, resonating deep within my core. Gently lifting my chin until our eyes met, his gaze burned with a fierce intensity, a raw, desperate hunger that mirrored the ache between my legs.

“Tell me you didn’t feel that, Cecilia,” he demanded, his voice low and gravelly, the words a poignant plea that stripped away any pretense. “Tell me this means nothing to you.” The unspoken question hung heavy in the air, the answer evident in the frantic pulse that throbbed between my thighs.

Without another word, his lips crashed onto mine again, harder this time, demanding, a desperate, fierce assertion of the undeniable connection that bound us. His hand slid down my back, cupping my buttocks and lifting me against him, the hard ridge of his erection pressing insistently against my still slick folds, a blatant, undeniable reminder of the raw, visceral desire that consumed us both.

“I’m never letting you go, Cecilia,” his voice stern, brooking no argument.

A gasp escaped my lips, a sound that was half protest, half surrender, a silent acknowledgment of the irresistible force that drew us together, a force stronger than guilt, stronger than fear. The guilt receded, momentarily drowned out by the raw, undeniable heat that flared between us, a wildfire consuming all reason, all restraint. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, my body seeking closer, more intimate contact.

Without another word, his hands tightened on my hips, lifting me higher against him as he thrust into me, the sudden, forceful entry jarring compared to the slow, deliberate movements of our earlier encounter. This was rougher, more primal, driven by a desperate urgency that resonated with the fear in his eyes. My breath hitched, a gasp of surprise and a jolt of raw sensation as he filled me completely, the dusty wall digging harder into my back with the force of his thrust.

He began to move with a frantic energy, his deep, powerful thrusts rocking my body against the wall. There was a possessiveness in his movements, a desperate claiming that mirrored his earlier words. My head fell back, my hair tangling in the dust motes that danced in the dim light filtering from the hallway. Moans, raw and unrestrained, tore from my throat, the pleasure sharp and almost painful in its intensity.

His hands roamed my body with a feverish desperation, gripping my thighs, my waist, my breasts, as if trying to imprint every inch of me onto his skin. The muffled music from the party outside beat against the thin walls, a frantic rhythm that echoed the wild, unrestrained dance of our bodies. Each deep thrust was a silent assertion, a primal claiming that spoke of a fear of separation, a desperate need to bind us together in this stolen moment.

The air grew thick with our ragged breathing and the mingled scents of sweat and arousal. My own hands clutched at his shoulders, my nails digging into his flesh as I met his frantic rhythm, my body arching against his with a desperate need of my own. The guilt was still there, a dull ache beneath the mounting pleasure, but for now, it was drowned out by the overwhelming, consuming sensation of Asher’s desperate possession. The rough wall against my back, the frantic thrusts that threatened to bruise, the raw, almost violent intensity of his lovemaking – it was all a desperate plea, a primal assertion that we belonged together, consequences be damned.

My moans and whimpers, raw and unrestrained, clawed their way into pleading cries as the first shattering waves of release ripped through me. My inner muscles clenched and spasmed, gripping his hard member, still violently thrusting deep within me, milking him with each involuntary spasm. His fingers dug into my hips, bruisingly tight, anchoring me against the rough wall as he continued to pound into me, his gaze transfixed on my face, his eyes dark and possessive. “Ah… Ash!” I screamed, the sound echoing in the small, dusty room as a shockingly long climax consumed me, wave after relentless wave. “Ash, I… I… can’t take… much more… Ash!” My body was a taut string stretched to its breaking point, every nerve ending screaming with sensation.

He growled low in his throat at my screams, my pleas, my cries, his frantic rhythm finally beginning to slow as my relentless contractions squeezed him tight. A guttural groan stalled his deep movements as my slick walls continued to milk his pulsating cock, drawing out every last drop of his release. His sweat-slicked body pressed against mine, pinning me against the rough, unforgiving wall in his exhaustion, his weight a heavy, yet intensely desired burden. My legs, shaky and weak but unwilling to release him, remained tightly wrapped around his waist, clinging to him as if he were the only solid thing in a world dissolving into pure sensation. His hips still thrusting slightly with the final, shuddering pulses of his release, his moan hot and ragged against my ear, a primal sound of spent desire. My fingers, trembling slightly, played in his sweat-dampened hair at the nape of his neck, the damp strands clinging to my skin.

My mind still reeled, a chaotic storm of sensation and the brute force of his desperate lovemaking, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps that mingled with his. His lips, swollen and bruised from our frantic kisses, crashed down on mine again in a feverish, possessive kiss, a final claiming that left me breathless and trembling, the taste of our mingled sweat and raw desire a potent reminder of our stolen, forbidden intimacy.