Asher's POV
The honeymoon suite door clicks shut behind us, and suddenly the chaos of the day falls away like a discarded coat.
The word still sends electricity through my veins every time it crosses my mind. Blaze is my husband, we're married—legally, publicly, irrevocably bound to each other in a way that once seemed as impossible as touching the moon.
The room was thick with the scent of arousal, a heady mix of sweat and the faint lingering aroma of our cologne.
Blaze’s hands grip my waist like he’s about to claim what’s his—because he is. His fingers dig into my hips, possessive and raw, and I can feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of my suit pants.
The way he looks at me, like he’s been starving for this moment—fuck, it makes my cock twitch against the seam of my boxers. His lips brush mine, a tease, a fucking taunt, before he whispers: “You’re mine now—officially, legally. Every fucking inch of you.”
“Prove it,” I dare him, my voice trembling with lust. My fingers fumble with his tie, undoing it like I’m unwrapping the best fucking gift I’ve ever gotten.
His chest rises and falls, and I can see the outline of his hard-on straining against his trousers. My mouth waters just thinking about it. “Show me what it means to be yours.”
He growls low in his throat, a sound that shoots straight to my dick, and pulls me closer until our bodies are flush. I can feel every muscle, every ridge of him pressed against me, and fuck, it’s enough to make me dizzy.
His hands roam over my back, sliding down to cup my ass, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp. “You feel that?” he murmurs, his voice rough and dripping with need. “That’s where you belong. Right here. Right fucking now.”
I nod, my breath hitching as he yanks my jacket off and tosses it aside. His shirt follows next, buttons popping as he tears it open, revealing the defined planes of his chest.
God, I’ve seen him naked a thousand times before, but tonight? Tonight it’s different. Tonight, every inch of him is mine to worship.
I lean in, pressing my lips to his collarbone, sucking a mark into his skin that’ll remind him, and anyone else, who he belongs to.
“Fuck, Asher,” he groans, his fingers tangling in my hair, tugging just enough to make me moan. “Don’t stop.”
I don’t. My mouth trails lower, nipping at his pecs, flicking my tongue over a nipple until it pebbles under my touch. His hips jerk forward, grinding his erection against mine, and fuck, it’s electric.
I can feel the wet spot forming in my boxers, pre-cum leaking shamelessly because of him. He’s a fucking drug, and I’m high on every second of it.
“Get these off,” I demand, yanking at his belt buckle with trembling hands. “Now.”
He doesn’t argue. His pants hit the floor with a soft thud, and his boxers follow, leaving him bare and achingly hard in front of me. His cock juts out, thick and flushed, veins standing out like a roadmap to his pleasure.
I drop to my knees without hesitation, wrapping my lips around the head and sucking hard. The taste of him, salty, musky, fucking perfect, fills my mouth, and I moan around him, vibrating against his sensitive skin.
“Jesus Christ,” he hisses, his hands gripping my shoulders as he thrusts deeper into my mouth. “You’re so goddamn good at this. Fuck, I can’t—“
I pull off with a wet pop, looking up at him through hooded eyes. “Don’t come yet. Not until I’m inside you.”
His breath catches, and for a moment, he looks stunned. Then he smirks, that cocky, confident smirk that drives me wild. “Then get on the bed, husband, and show me what you’ve got.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I strip quickly, shedding my clothes like they’re on fire, and crawl onto the crisp white sheets.
Blaze follows, his hands sliding up my thighs as he positions himself between my legs. His breath is hot against my skin as he leans down, sucking a bruise into the inside of my thigh before licking a slow, wet stripe up to my hole.
“Fuck,” I gasp, arching off the bed as he teases me with his tongue. He’s relentless, circling and probing until I’m panting, begging for more. “Blaze, please—”
“You want it?” he asks, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine. “You want me to fuck you, husband?”
“Yes,” I moan, reaching for the lube on the nightstand and tossing it to him. “Fill me up. Make me yours.”
He slicks himself up, stroking his cock leisurely while I watch, transfixed. Then he’s pressing against me, the blunt head of his dick pushing past my tight ring of muscle.
I bite my lip, stifling a groan as he stretches me open inch by inch until he’s buried to the hilt. His hips press against mine, and for a moment, we both freeze, savoring the feeling of being completely connected.
“You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss me deeply. His tongue tangles with mine, and I can taste myself on him, salty and sweet. “So tight, so fucking perfect.”
“Move,” I beg, my hands clawing at his back. “Please, Blaze, I need you to—”
He doesn’t make me finish. His hips pull back and snap forward, driving into me with a force that steals my breath. Each thrust is deliberate, measured, hitting that spot inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyes.
I’m babbling, incoherent words tumbling from my lips as I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, harder.
“That’s it,” he growls, his pace quickening, each stroke pushing me closer to the edge. “Take it, Ashy. Take everything I’ve got.”
“Fuck,” I moan, my cock leaking against my stomach, precum pooling as he pounds into me. “I’m gonna… Blaze, I’m—”
“Come for me,” he commands, his voice rough and unyielding. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”
That’s all it takes. My orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, tearing through me with white-hot intensity. My cock spurts between us, ropes of cum coating our stomachs as I clench around him, milking every last drop of pleasure from him.
He groans my name, his hips stuttering as he spills inside me, filling me with warmth that has me moaning all over again.
We collapse together, breathless and spent, our bodies slick with sweat and cum. His arms wrap around me, holding me close as our hearts race in tandem. “I love you,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my temple. “More than anything.”
“I love you too,” I murmur, nuzzling into his chest. “Forever.”
And as we drift off to sleep, tangled together in the mess we’ve made, I know without a doubt that this is just the beginning. Tonight was fucking perfect, but tomorrow?
Tomorrow we’ll do it all over again, and again, and again. Because we’re married now—completely, openly, without reservation or fear.