Ash is a fashion model, not by choice but the desire of his projecting mother. People think he's too cocky for his own good, judging him based on what he posts online. But Ash hates the brush he's been painted with, along with the stereotypes of the...
lick: (verb) 1. pass the tongue over (something) in order to taste, moisten, or clean it.
✣
Ups! Gambar ini tidak mengikuti Pedoman Konten kami. Untuk melanjutkan publikasi, hapuslah gambar ini atau unggah gambar lain.
I am definitely losing my mind. The whole weekend I couldn't stop thinking of Ash. When it came to Sunday night, I found myself itching to go back to the manor. Never did I think I'd be excited about going to placement.
But the thought of seeing Ash made it all the better. Especially after the weekend I had, training to the bone with my father. One of my eyes bruised and my eyeball bloodshot from all the force.
I had to call it a night, everything on my face throbbed. Painfully.
When my alarm goes off on Monday I practically leap out of bed and get into the shower, slipping past my father on the way out. I take his car as he has the day off and I drive down to the manor, even a few minutes earlier than expected.
I've never felt like this and as much as my mind is trying to tell me to ignore it, I can't.
Ash's lips, tongue and hands play over and over in my imagination and I can't let it stop.
I would be a complete liar if I said that I slept easy on Friday night, it was the opposite. I needed a release to get me anywhere near to passing out. So I buried my hand into my boxers and thought of Ash, I closed my eyes, pretended my hands were his.
As soon as I came all over my stomach, I was ready to sleep. But I still wanted more.
I want him to fuck me like he did the night of the party, the way he pushed me down against the desk, held me tightly and spoke to me like a desperate slut. Fuck, I loved it more than I thought.
When I turn up at the manor, I jump out of the car and go straight inside. Ash nowhere to be seen. I shrug off my backpack and get changed into my overalls and get started on the kitchen, Carol now giving us new orders to move on to other rooms.
Footsteps echo in my ears from behind me as I push the stools across the room. My head rotates over my shoulder and I watch as Ash walks through the hall and straight towards the kitchen, a soft smile on his lips.
I part my mouth and rotate towards him, drinking in his casual attire. He begins to pull off his thin jacket from his arms, showing off his toned muscles, the strength that I want wrapped around my neck.
"Hey," he says, snapping my eyes back to his finally.
"Hey," I nod.
"You good?"
"Yeah. You?"
The corners of Ash's lips twitch upwards like he knows what I'm thinking but he doesn't press. "Yeah," he grins before stepping away into the next room. "I'm good too."
I turn my head to face the wall and focus on moving the chairs again, even though my heart is racing inside my chest like no one's business.
Soon Ash returns and he helps me shift through the kitchen waste, broken furniture and chipped counters. We don't necessarily speak but we get the work done. I try not to look at him because he's looking far too good for a Monday morning.
