Though Ash hadn’t known what to expect after her teasing question had been proposed, she hadn’t thought that Devon would disappear in what felt like a trick of her eyes. She had seen only voluptuous intent in the steel of his gaze when it had settled on her as she’d emerged. The hairs on the back of her neck had prickled, her hackles raised in the influx of instincts roaring to life in what seemed like a mere beat of the heart. Then he was behind her, the press of his muscles, the heat of him, the clean and complicated and beautiful scent that he carried, the hard and unmistakable length of him against the curve of her rear. His hands were spreading fire to her belly with every touch, imprisoning her in a skillfully woven, hedonic spell, and she allowed it, invited it openly. Sighed when his lips found their way against her skin, suppressed a shudder of pure, lascivious pleasure when he spoke. Her body was splendidly scorching, blossoming artfully beneath his slow, torturous touch.<br/><br/>Then his teeth were on her neck and Ash inhaled sharply, a shiver cascading along her spine, ending low in her belly. Perfect primality bloomed in her chest, filled with animalistic need, coupled with the hunger and lust already present. She was acutely aware of him, of herself, of needs and wants - to be sated, to sate him. She ached to have him, needy and persistent, tempered only by reason and patience and the devotion to making him absolutely breathless.<br/><br/>“Oh?” She’d managed to articulate when he’d made his declarations about other women, mind otherwise buzzing with the focus on his naked fervor. The thought of others hadn’t truly crossed her mind. Perhaps only briefly when she’d pinned him as a man who was fluid and honest in his trysts, a charming and polite savant with only willing and knowing participants. She hadn’t minded the preconception of him and engaging him even then - she had known it would be impossible for her to be a half-recalled memory. It wouldn’t matter how many or how few women he’d been with, she knew he’d think of her on lonelier nights. If what he said was indeed true, however, he’d made an interesting first choice.<br/><br/>Those wonderful hands stopped agonizingly short. Devon was entwining words like a bewitchment, an intricate braid of fever unraveling in her chest. He was tantalizing the covetous edges of her body as he did so and she physically staid herself from moving her form in attempts to draw him closer. When he was busy talking, she was busy devising the ways that she was going to take him, that she was going to pay him back for his hardly-innocent love bite and the torment of her body. The kiss behind her jaw, his final word, was all the push she needed, softly moaning in response to the strings of liquid lightning that snaked themselves down into her core. She pushed back against him so that she did not require her arms to support herself against the counter any longer, their figures an impeccable meld. “Let me show you how it’s done, then,” she replied, voice ravenously soaked with carnality. Her hands captured the back of his own and she placed each where he’d been taunting so much. One on the plush contour of her right breast, and the other between her legs, where her body was molten, and drowned with pleasure at the curl of his fingers over her jeans.<br/><br/>After giving him a taste of the feel of her, Ash pulled his hands from her body, half-sorry to experience the absence once she’d found herself lavishing the touch. Not at all sorry when she’d turned and was against him again. She pushed his back flush against the wall behind him and in one fluid movement, one arm had slid securely around his body and the opposite hand had slid up the back of his neck. Her fingers intertwined with his short locks and she bared his neck. She sank her teeth against his flesh, possessively, affectionately, and she tasted salt and earth and storms, wonderfully envenomed by the flavor of senses he had to offer her. Her lips were on his again, each stolen breath a labored pant, the lapse of her tongue a river of the sweetest hell. Still painfully slow, still passionately adept, laving him with her hard-won ardor.<br/><br/>Ash paused only to give them both air, to untangle the dizzying, exquisite tumult in her mind. “I don’t know if I can believe that there were none before,” she spoke with a humored laugh, leaving it unsaid that he knew too well how to play her body. “Not that I mind either way. As long as it’s my name you’re saying.” Her lips, kissed and swollen and rosy, curved into an alluringly mischievous grin. Her hands moved to the edges of his jacket, this time to coax it from his body, desperate to see how his skin would feel against her own. If it would be as perfect as their chemistry suggested it would be. She had a feeling it was an edge that she could never turn back from.