The Striker (Gods of the Game Book 1)

Thanks to the time difference (Japan was eight hours ahead of the UK), we left Tokyo Sunday morning and landed in London in the early afternoon.

Our late dinner, early wake-up call, and the change in time zones conspired to confuse my body about what it was supposed to be doing when, so I opted for the safe option and slept for a majority of the flight.

When we arrived in London, I went to Asher’s house instead of going straight home. Vincent was joining us at training tomorrow, and I wanted to say goodbye to our studio.

It sounded stupid, but the studio had been our private little Eden for two months. It deserved a proper farewell.

“How did he react when you told him we’ve been training at my house this entire time?” Asher asked as I ran my hands over the smooth wood barre.

I winced. “Um, he didn’t. He thinks we’ve been training at RAB.”

Asher’s eyebrows skyrocketed.

“I know, I know.” I dropped the barre and crossed my arms, hating myself for the lies piling up around me. The mature thing would’ve been to tell Vincent the truth. We initially changed studios because of the paps, not because we were trying to sneak away for weekly rendezvous.

But I knew my brother. He would flip out about me coming to Asher’s house three times a week, every week without telling him, and that would put him in a bad mood for when we dropped our relationship bombshell news.

I would rather rip off both bandages at the same time and contain the explosion to one instance instead of two.

Plus, a small, selfish part of me didn’t want to share this space with anyone else. It was a ballet studio, but it was our ballet studio.

“The paps aren’t hanging around RAB anymore,” I said after I explained my reasoning to Asher. “And people at the school aren’t going to say anything. Even if they did, they don’t know I’ve been training you at your house. So I told Vincent to meet us at RAB tomorrow like he did for our first session.”

The weight of our impending talk hooked into my stomach and dragged it down to my feet. My emotions vacillated wildly between anxiety and optimism, unsure of where to land.

Asher and Vincent were finally getting along (sort of). Our relationship news would either go much better than we anticipated, or it would destroy their fragile truce and bleed over into the upcoming season.

No pressure or anything.

“That makes sense.” Asher leaned against the barre, looking fresh and rested despite not sleeping during our long-haul flight. His eyes pierced mine. “So this is technically our last day together in this studio.”

My chest twinged. “I guess it is.”

We could come down anytime we wanted, but it wouldn’t be the same. I wouldn’t be training him anymore, and the vibes would just be different.

“Since it’s our last day…” He pushed off the wall and closed the distance between us with two lazy, pantherine steps. “Let’s make it count.”

Embers of heat flared to life at his suggestive drawl. The air thickened, infusing oxygen with electricity that rolled down my spine like a hot, sensual caress.

“How so?” My response sounded husky beneath the sudden crackle of attraction.

Asher’s grin was pure wickedness. “We’ve never christened the studio.”

The embers ignited into flames.

He was right. We’d spent so much time in the studio, but we’d never had sex here. It felt forbidden somehow, like we were defiling our workplace even though it was a private residence.

But it was that same forbidden undercurrent that stoked those flames higher when he gripped the back of my neck and pulled me into a kiss.

It wasn’t a gentle, yearning kiss; it was hard and aggressive, almost desperate, and the deliciousness of it made my toes curl.

A moan slipped from my mouth into his. I was the good kind of dizzy, floating on lust and euphoria and everything in between.

Asher pushed me against the barre and slid my dress straps down my shoulders. I shivered, my skin pebbling from a mix of cold and desire. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and my nipples were so hard they abraded the light cotton of my dress. They scraped against the material with every movement, sending jolts of heat straight to my core.

Asher broke the kiss and skimmed his mouth down my throat, his lips curving into a tiny smile when he found the wild flutter of my pulse. He lingered there, leisurely tracing his tongue over my skin before he continued his journey downward.

He tugged on my neckline as he did so, and it wasn’t long before my already-slack bodice sagged around my waist.

His mouth trailed down…

Down…

Down…

Until it closed around a peaked nipple and sucked, teeth tugging and lightly grazing across the sensitive tip.

This time, my moan was closer to a strangled cry. My hand flew up and my fingers tangled in Asher’s hair, both holding on and holding him close as he teased my breasts into pebbled stiffness.

I was so wet I could feel my underwear getting soaked. I squirmed, trying to get more friction between my thighs when Asher lifted his head and spun me around so I faced the wall of mirrors.

Heat consumed my face when I saw my disheveled, half-naked reflection.

“Bend over and spread your legs.” Asher’s rough command sent shivers streaking down my spine.

I obeyed, placing my hands on the top beam of the double barre and edging my legs apart. My pants of anticipation fogged the glass, turning my reflection into a haze of dark hair and red cheeks.

However, a needle of confusion pierced my lust when Asher walked to the sound system and turned it on.

The familiar strains of classical music filled the studio, its elegant symphony a stark contrast to the obscene image of me bending over the barre, my legs spread wide, my breasts bared, and my thighs slick with my juices.

My clit pulsed at the dichotomy.

If any of my old ballet teachers could see what we were doing in this studio…

Asher’s steps echoed against the polished wood floors. He returned to his spot behind me, his gaze taking me in with such intensity that I blushed again.

“The music is in case someone from the household staff wanders downstairs.” His velvety drawl slid over my skin as sure as a caress. “Wouldn’t want them to hear us.”

With that, he shoved my dress up around my waist, hooked his thumbs into my underwear and yanked it down, exposing the glistening evidence of my need.

“Fuck, you’re dripping.” He dragged a finger through the wetness. I whined and squirmed again, my entire body flushed. His chuckle brushed my back. “Does this turn you on, sweetheart? Getting bent over and played with while you wait for my cock?”

I was too aroused to be embarrassed. “Yes.”

“Hmm. I thought so.” He removed his hand, ignoring my cry of protest. “You’ll have to wait a little longer, but don’t worry, darling.” A wicked grin slashed across his face as he knelt between my legs. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

That was the only warning I got before his tongue touched my clit, and my world splintered into fragments of pure lust.

I cried out, my hands gripping the barre as Asher ate me out from behind. He lapped up my juices and swirled his tongue over my swollen clit before he thrust it inside me. The piano music mingled with the sounds of his tongue fucking in and out of my pussy in delicious, rapid strokes.

Firm hands manacled my thighs, holding me steady while I shook and sobbed, the pleasure so intense it brought tears to my eyes.

He released one of my thighs and rubbed his thumb over my clit. He thrust his tongue deep inside me at the same time, and that was it.

I exploded, my orgasm rocketing through me and taking possession of every single muscle while I drenched his face with my come.

He groaned, the vibrations sending mini shockwaves up my core before he pulled back and stood.

I heard the metal rasp of a zipper coming undone and the rip of foil, but I didn’t get a chance to ride out the final waves of my orgasm before he was inside me, filling me up until I gasped.

I was still sensitive from our earlier activities, and the single thrust sent a second, smaller orgasm chasing after the heels of my first one.

It was my first set of back-to-back orgasms ever, and I was so lost to the sensations, the want, that I could only hold on tight while Asher fucked me into a state of sobbing, mindless delirium.

He was typically gentler when we had sex, but this? This was raw and hard and everything I didn’t know I needed. We were swept up in the needs of the moment, our troubles drowned beneath an ocean of desire and expelled with each cry and groan. Still, despite the brutal rhythm of our coupling, he intermittently slowed down to check on me.

I appreciated the sentiment, but I was fine in this position—more than fine. And I didn’t want him to hold back. I wanted him to fuck me harder.

“Right there.” I gasped. “Harder, deeper…yes.”

His balls slapped against my skin with each thrust, underscoring the speed and force of his rhythm, but it still wasn’t enough. I wanted more.

Asher slowed again to accommodate me when I straightened, raised one leg, and stretched it out along the lower barre. I wasn’t quite as flexible as I’d been before my surgeries, but the height of the barre and the way he held me alleviated any pressure that would’ve incited a flare-up.

It actually felt good to stretch out my leg. Most importantly, the new position allowed him to fuck me deep, deeper than any position we’d tried before.

“Fuck,” Asher hissed, his body tensing at whatever sensations he felt. His skin gleamed with sweat, and his fingers dug into my hip as he drove into me again.

He quickly matched his previous pace, only it felt even better like this, with me stretched out and him buried to the hilt.

I squealed when he hit a spot he’d never hit before, and my mind blanked from sheer pleasure.

I’d never had sex like this before. Rough and unrelenting and passionate, where he fucked me like he couldn’t get enough of me, and I knew for a fact that I couldn’t get enough of him.

It was the kind of sex that could ruin a girl for life.

My breasts bounced wildly from the force of the pounding, and my mouth hung open, unable to speak, unable to think. I was a sweaty, dripping mess, but I didn’t care.

In fact, it only spurred me on. It was so unlike me, so opposite the careful control that I exhibited in every other area of my life, that it was a turn-on.

I didn’t have to be Scarlett. Instead, I could be this wanton creature who dealt in pleasure and carnality, who could slip out of herself and enter a world of fantasy.

“Look at the way you’re taking my cock.” Asher reached up and gripped my chin with one hand, forcing me to look at him in the mirror. To watch the way his cock plunged in and out of my drenched cunt. “Every inch buried inside you, and your pussy still can’t get enough.”

I whimpered, my pussy clenching around him in shameless agreement.

“So fucking tight.” He lowered his head and sank his teeth into the curve between my neck and shoulder. “So fucking mine.”

Another, more savage thrust scattered any coherence that might’ve formed in my short-circuiting brain.

I was nothing but a giant raw, exposed nerve. Even the brush of air against my skin was unbearable in its sensuality. Add in the dirty words, the lewd sight of him pounding into me in broad daylight, with the innocent music playing in the background…and it was too much.

The piano score hit a crescendo, and my third orgasm of the afternoon detonated from deep inside me. I screamed, waves of pleasure mushrooming from my core to engulf my entire body. My back bowed, and fresh tears pooled in the corners of my eyes as I lost all sense of space and time.

I was a thousand pieces of sensation, broken apart and put together again.

My come was still dripping down my thighs when Asher lowered my leg off the barre and turned me around. He sat me on the wooden beam and hooked my legs around his waist before he continued fucking me, his grunts growing deeper and more guttural as I convulsed around him.

I was still flying high on the last wings of my orgasm when he came with a final deep thrust. His cock twitched inside me as he groaned loudly, the lines of his face drawn tight with pure bliss.

The music was still playing as we held each other, me on the barre and him standing in front of me, our limbs intertwined in a sweaty, exhausted tangle during our come down.

“That’s one way to do cardio,” I panted. “Congrats, Donovan, you passed your final training test.”

His hoarse laughter vibrated from my head to the tips of my toes. “I expect a gold medal commemorating the moment.”

“Of course you do.” I rested my head on his shoulder, closed my eyes, and breathed him in. Some people were comforted by the smell of their childhood or their mother’s cooking, but I was comforted by the scent of him. Rich, earthy, masculine.

It was the scent of home.

“How are you feeling, darling?” Asher stroked my hair, the gentleness of his touch a complete one-eighty from the way he’d just fucked me. “That leg on the barre move…”

I giggled at the mix of awe and concern in his voice. “I’m okay. The position wasn’t uncomfortable, and the lower barre helped.” I lifted my head and gave him a teasing smile. “That’s one of the perks of dating a dancer. We’re very flexible.”

His eyes glittered with relief and a fresh touch of heat.

“I see that. I can’t believe it took us this long to use the studio properly.” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “What have we been doing?”

“Less fun stuff, unfortunately.” I sighed, drowsy but satiated. “But it’s a good last day, isn’t it?”

Asher’s face softened. “Yeah, it is.”

We held each other for a few more minutes until our breathing returned to normal and we finally, reluctantly disentangled. We turned off the music, cleaned ourselves up, and sanitized the studio, but we were still holding tight to the day while it lasted.

Because come tomorrow, everything would change.