“Close?” He smeared the head of his cock and the bead of precome over her lips and she licked it off, making him grin.

“Yes.” Her voice was a little shaky. She was trying to hold back, but he was making it harder and harder.

He wasn’t into orgasm denial. It wasn’t his kink. He wanted her coming often and hard.

He bent, pressing his lips to her ear. “Go on then.”

She made a strangled sound and he straightened, taking in the sight of her, flushed and tousled, thighs spread, fingers stroking over her clit. So raw and carnal.

He caught that moment when she tipped into climax, when her gaze blurred and her lips parted.

He went to his knees then, moving her hand, licking hard and fast as he took her from one orgasm into the next.

It was too much. Every part of her was brilliantly, blindly soaring, her inner muscles clutching around that egg as he licked her hard and fast.

Her nipples throbbed as she came so thoroughly it seemed to seep from every pore.

She slumped when he finally backed off, kissing her thigh, slipping the egg free.

“Up.”

He helped her to her feet, guiding her back to the bed.

Taking her hands, he guided them to the post. “Hold on here.”

She’d never expected to like the flogger, but by that point he’d used them on her enough and with plenty of variety and she could proclaim it her favorite.

He started slow. A caress of the leather against her skin. Gentle. Rhythmic. Down her back, over her ass and thighs. Against her shoulders. He took care around her nipples, brushing the curves of her breasts instead of direct stimulation.

And then the first strike on the meat of her ass cheeks. He did it again and again. Moving subtly so the heat built carefully. He created pleasure like he worked on cars. Meticulously and with great creativity.

She closed her eyes, resting her forehead against the wood and letting herself fall away and become all sensation.

He’d be looking at her, watching the pink on her skin. Making sure he wasn’t going too far, but getting harder and harder at the sight. Loving that precision.

He trailed the tails over her hip. “So beautiful. Jesus.”

There was more heat and the soothing cool of his breath as he blew over her skin from time to time.

And then he tossed the flogger to the mattress. She roused at the sound of the condom wrapper tearing.

He kissed her neck. “Come on with me.” He led her to the bench at the foot of his bed and sat. “On your knees, brace your hands on the footboard.”

She obeyed; all the while his hands caressed.

“Close your eyes.”

She did, and then there was an intense rush of sensation when he took the clamps off. There was no chance to gather her fraying wits because in one thrust he was inside her, fucking her hard and deep, and all she could do was gasp as she hovered on the edge of climax in one very long wave of pleasure.

He was so damned deep and she still pushed back, using her grip on his bed to leverage herself against him each time he thrust. The backs of her thighs stung as they brushed against the hairs on his thighs. It didn’t matter.

She wanted him. All of him. Every intense thing he made her feel.

And he gave it.

This was making love. It didn’t have to be sweet in a traditional sense. It was sweet for Asa and PJ. He loved her and cherished her, and the way he touched her, like he’d never get enough, humbled her to her toes.

Love did that. Laid you bare. Broke you open and opened you up. It made you want to be better.

He reached around her body, molding his body to her back, the heat of him against the skin he’d flogged, his fingers finding her wet and ready to come again.

And she did. Around him as he came too.

He pulled out and they both made their way to the mattress, her on her belly, him splayed out at her side, their fingers tangled as they got their breath again.

Chapter Twenty-five

“You’ve got like eleven billion roses out here,” Julie called out.

PJ had been in her bedroom trying to figure out what to wear to the car show that night when the doorbell had rung and her sister went out to deal with it.

PJ pulled on her lotus robe and headed into the living room. “I think eleven billion might be an exaggeration.”

She skidded to a halt as she took it all in.

Julie said, “Probably. But five dozen. That’s close enough.”

“Sixty and eleven billion? Not so close if you meant tacos or people, but roses? Yeah, that’s close enough.”

Her sister handed PJ two cards. “I think it’s safe to say these are from Asa. But open the cards before I pass out from not knowing.”

“I’m really glad you don’t overstate things or exaggerate.”

“Me too. God, what a drag that would be.” Julie motioned to the cards. “Open.”

They were in Asa’s handwriting, which made her smile. He’d gone into the florist to do this himself that morning. “How lucky am I?”

She opened the card he’d marked with a 1 in the lower right corner.

My wild rose, you’re going to wow everyone tonight. I love you, Asa.

She read it to herself before she tucked it back in the envelope. “They’re from Asa.”

“No lie.”

The second card said, There’s some language of flowers stuff that says what color roses mean what things. So I got you all the colors of roses they had because you’re everything.

Julie poked her arm. “Oh my god, you’re blushing and you look a little sniffly. What does it say?”