Swallow Me Whole novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Lesson Two

Ashton eats her out on the butcher-block counter until she comes twice, and tells her the next lesson is hers.

"Sit," Ashton said, and he picked me up by the waist and put me on the counter.

It was the butcher-block counter he had built himself, six feet of maple, and it was cold through my skirt.

It was Sunday night, and I had come downstairs without knocking.

Lesson two was not the bedroom, he had told me on the back stairs that afternoon.

Lesson two was anywhere a girl might want it.

He stood between my knees with his hands on my thighs and looked up at me.

The only light in the kitchen came from the lamp over the stove.

It turned his eyes a darker gray and put a shine on the edge of his beard.

"Say what you want, Sadie."

"Your mouth," I said.

I had practiced the word in the shower.

"Where?"

"On me."

"Where on you?"

"Ashton."

"Say it. I'm teaching you to ask."

I put my hands behind me on the maple to keep from covering my face.

"My pussy," I whispered. "I want your mouth on my pussy."

"There it is."

First he tugged my T-shirt over my head.

He unhooked my bra with one hand, and it fell away, and the cool air hit my nipples.

I crossed my arms over my chest on instinct.

"Don't," he said.

"They're small."

"They're perfect."

He pulled my wrists apart and laid my hands on the counter on either side of me.

"Trent said," I started.

"I don't care what he said. Do you know what I've thought about since Saturday?"

"What?"

"These."

He bent and took one nipple in his mouth.

I gasped and arched, and my hands flew into his hair.

He sucked slowly, then harder, flicking his tongue over the tip until it was tight and aching.

He did the other one the same way, with the flat of his tongue and then his teeth, a little scrape.

A bolt of pleasure went straight down to my clit.

"Ashton, that's, I didn't know that."

"You've got a lot of places nobody found."

He kissed his way down my stomach, and he stopped at my navel and looked up with his eyes half closed.

"I'm going to find every single one."

He pushed my skirt up around my waist, slowly, bunching the cotton in his big hands.

I wore a pair of green underwear.

He looked at them for a long moment.

"You wore these for me?"

"I wore them because they were clean."

"Liar."

"Maybe."

"I like these," he said, and hooked his thumbs under the elastic. "Lift."

I lifted, and he dragged them down my legs and off, and tossed them on the stove.

Then he sank to his knees on the kitchen floor.

I had never seen a man do that for me.

I looked down at the top of his dark head between my thighs, and my whole body went tight and bright.

"Put your feet on my shoulders."

I did.

His shoulders were so wide that my knees fell open on either side of his neck.

He laid both hands on my hips, thumbs pressing into the creases, and held me where he wanted me.

I felt his breath first.

It was warm on my skin, and I shivered.

"Look at you," he said against my inner thigh. "Pink and soaked, and you haven't even been touched."

"Stop talking."

"No. Talking's part of it."

He kissed the inside of my thigh, once, twice, three times, and the beard scraped my skin, and I made a sound.

"Louder," he said. "There's no one to hear you. I want to know what you like."

He put his mouth on me.

I jerked so hard that my head hit the cabinet behind me.

He laughed against me, low, and the vibration went through every nerve I had.

His tongue was flat and slow and hot.

It dragged up the whole length of me and circled my clit once, softly, and then did it again.

"Oh my God."

"Mm."

"Ashton, oh my God."

"Don't change it. Just like that."

"Like this?"

"Yes. Yes, like that."

He gave me exactly that, again and again, and I grabbed the edge of the counter with both hands.

The maple dug into my palms.

His beard rubbed my thighs and his tongue moved in slow, steady circles.

I could feel myself getting wetter, and I could hear it.

I should have been mortified.

I was too busy shaking.

"You taste so good," he said, rough, and licked me from bottom to top. "Sweet. Fuck. I could do this all night."

"You can't."

"Watch me."

"Tell me what it feels like," he said, and licked a slow circle. "Out loud."

"Like I'm melting."

"More."

"Like your tongue is the only thing holding me up."

"Good. What else?"

"Like I'm going to be so embarrassed tomorrow."

"Good."

"And I won't care."

He growled, and the growl went straight through me.

"That's my girl. Say it to me when you come. Say what you want me to do next time."

He slid two fingers inside me while his mouth worked my clit.

I cried out.

He curled them toward the spot he had found the night before.

The heel of his hand pressed below, and he sucked, gently and rhythmically, and the pleasure rose through me.

I put my hand in his hair.

I had wanted to do that since I walked in.

It was thick and soft, and I gripped it.

He groaned into me, and I felt the groan in my teeth.

"Ashton, I'm going to."

"Not yet."

"I can't help it."

He took his mouth away.

Cold air touched me where he had been, and I made a sound.

"No, no, why would you stop?"

"Because you're not asking."

"I'm asking!"

"You're complaining. Ask me."

His fingers stayed inside me, still, just a slow press that kept me hovering on the edge.

I was shaking all over.

"Please," I said.

"Please what?"

"Please make me come. Please put your mouth back. I'll do anything."

"Anything," he repeated, rough, and his thumb moved over my clit once, a feather. "Careful what you promise a man on his knees."

"Ashton, please."

"Look at me. Say it again."

"Please, Ashton, I need your mouth. I need to come on your mouth."

"Good girl."

Those two words hit me.

He put his mouth back, hungry now, and the slow patience was gone.

He sucked my clit between his lips and flicked it with his tongue, fast and without mercy, and I broke.

"Ashton!"

I came so hard that I saw white.

My thighs squeezed his head and my back arched off the cabinet.

I shouted his name into the dark kitchen.

He held me through it.

He kept his mouth on me and his fingers inside me and never let me pull away.

The first orgasm rolled straight into a second one before it had finished.

I think I screamed.

I know I was crying a little, laughing and crying, with my hand still knotted in his hair.

When it was over, he rested his forehead on my thigh.

His breath was ragged and hot against my skin.

"Two," he said.

"Two?"

"You came twice tonight, and once last night."

"Don't count."

"I'm teaching. Counting is part of it."

He got up off his knees and wiped his beard with the back of his hand.

I saw how wet it was.

I saw it, and I felt a pulse go through me again.

"I want to," I said.

"Want to what?"

"Do that to you."

He went still.

His hands gripped the counter on either side of my hips.

The cords in his forearms stood out.

"You don't have to," he said.

"That wasn't what I said."

He laughed, shakily, and shook his head.

"No. It wasn't."

"Tonight."

"Not tonight. You can't stand up."

"I can stand."

"Try it."

I slid off the counter and my legs went out from under me.

He caught me around the waist and hauled me against his chest.

I could feel him through his jeans, hard against my stomach.

I pressed against it on purpose.

"Sadie."

"Teach me."

"Jesus." His forehead came down against mine. "You are going to be the death of me."

"Is that a yes?"

"It's a tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, what?"

"Next lesson is yours," Ashton said.

His hands slid down to cup my bare ass and squeeze.

"Come down at nine. Bring your appetite."

He kissed my forehead.

It was not on the mouth.

That was still rule one.

He walked me to the foot of the back stairs.

My underwear was in his fist, and he did not give it back.

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