Chapter 25

Asher’s hands slid beneath the loosened velvet of her gown, his palms warm against the bare skin of her hips. The golden sparks from his touch hummed against her flesh, melting away the last of her tension until all that remained was a heavy, aching want.

“You are so beautiful, Lydia,” he whispered against her jaw, his breath hot and steady. “Every time I look at you, it’s like seeing you for the first time.”

He moved over her, his large frame casting a protective shadow against the firelight. His kisses travelled from her lips to the sensitive curve of her neck, slow and deliberate, making her breath hitch in her throat. Lydia’s hands wandered up his back, her fingers digging into his muscles as a soft moan escaped her.

“Asher,” she breathed, her voice trembling with anticipation.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low growl. “Always.”

His hands slid higher, the emerald fabric bunching around her waist as he peeled the gown away from her body. The firelight danced over her pale skin, and Asher’s breath caught at the sight of her. He worshipped her with his mouth, his lips tracing the line of her collarbone, then lower, lingering over the swell of her breasts until Lydia’s back arched off the furs.

“Asher, please,” she urged, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. The heat between them was building, a heavy, pulsing need that made her legs tremble.

He moved back up to her face, his eyes dark with a hunger he didn’t try to hide. “I want you to feel every bit of this, Lydia. I want you to know you’re mine.”

His hand slid between them, his fingers finding her already slick and warm. Lydia gasped, her hips tilting instinctively toward his touch.

His thumb circled her slowly, a deliberate pressure that made her toes curl into the furs. Lydia’s head fell back, a broken sound escaping her lips as the sensation radiated through her entire body. The golden sparks from his touch seemed to flare brighter now, pulsing in time with the thrumming heat between them.

“You’re so ready for me,” Asher murmured, his voice thick with praise. He leaned down, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, his breath hot against her.

Lydia’s hands gripped the furs beneath her, her knuckles white. “Asher—I can’t—”

“You can,” he countered softly, looking up at her with eyes that burned like the hearth fire. “Just feel it. Feel me.”

He moved back up, his body hovering just inches above hers, the heat radiating from him like a physical weight.

He slid his hand down her stomach, his palm flat and warm, guiding her thighs apart. Lydia’s breath came in short, shallow gasps as she felt the friction of his skin against hers. The heat was almost unbearable now, a pulling tension in her lower belly that demanded more than just his touch.

“I want to be inside you,” Asher whispered, his forehead resting against hers. “Tell me you want it, Lydia.”

“I do,” she breathed, her voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire. “Please, Asher. I need you.”

He didn’t make her wait. He positioned himself between her legs, his hands gripping her hips to hold her steady. As he pushed forward, slowly and deliberately, Lydia’s eyes fluttered shut. The sensation was overwhelming—full, stretching, and impossibly warm. A soft cry escaped her lips as he filled her completely.

“You’re so tight,”

“You’re so tight,” he groaned, his muscles locking as he held himself still for a moment, savouring the way she felt around him. His hands tightened on her hips, his thumbs digging slightly into her skin. “God, Lydia.”

He began to move, a slow, steady rhythm that drew a long, shaky breath from her lungs. Each thrust was deliberate, designed to make her feel every inch of him. Lydia’s hands found his shoulders, her nails scratching lightly against his skin as the pleasure began to build—a mounting warmth that started low and radiated outward until her whole body felt alight.

“Asher,” she gasped, her hips rising to meet him instinctively. “Don’t stop.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, his voice ragged. He picked up the pace, his movements becoming more urgent, more primal. The golden sparks seemed to dance across their joined skin, fuelling the fire between them.

Lydia’s body arched beneath him, her voice breaking into a high, needy sound. “Asher, please—faster.”

He obeyed, his thrusts lengthening and deepening, each one driving a fresh wave of heat through her. The sound of their bodies meeting filled the quiet room, a rhythmic slap that matched the pounding of her heart. Asher’s breath was hot against her ear, his words nothing more than low, guttural growls of her name.

“You’re mine,” he muttered, his teeth grazing her shoulder. “Every inch of you.”

Lydia felt herself unravelling. The pleasure was building too fast, too intense, a coil tightening in her gut until she thought she might snap. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, wanting to close every millimetre of space between them.

“I’m—I’m close,” she cried out, her eyes snapping open to meet his.

Asher’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he saw the look of pure surrender on her face. “Then take it,” he commanded, his voice dropping to a raw, gravelly tone. “Take all of me, Lydia.”

He drove into her harder, his pace turning frantic as he felt her body begin to tremble around him. The friction was electric, every movement sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core. Lydia’s head tossed from side to side against the furs, her breath coming in ragged sobs that were half moan and half cry.

“That’s it,” Asher groaned, his own control slipping. He leaned down, capturing her mouth in a bruising kiss to swallow the sound she was making. His hands slid under her back, lifting her slightly to meet his thrusts more deeply.

The climax hit her like a wave—sudden and violent. Lydia’s body convulsed beneath him, her internal muscles clamping tightly around him in a rhythmic pulse that nearly broke his own control. A sharp, broken cry escaped her throat against his lips, her entire frame shuddering as the pleasure washed over her in waves.

“That’s it, Lydia... just like that,” Asher rasped, his voice thick and strained. Seeing her unravel like this—completely undone by him—sent a surge of heat through his veins that he couldn’t contain any longer. He gripped her hips tighter, his knuckles white, and increased the pace until his movements were almost desperate.

He was right on the edge, his vision blurring at the corners. Every sensation was magnified—the softness of the furs beneath them, the heat of her skin, the way she called his name like it was a prayer.

“Asher—I’m—!”

“I’m right there with you,” Asher groaned, his voice breaking. He gave three more deep, powerful thrusts, his body tensing like a bowstring pulled to its limit.

The sensation of her clamping around him was the final straw. Asher’s head fell back, a low, guttural roar tearing from his throat as he came, his entire body shuddering with the force of it. He pressed himself deep against her, holding her there as the waves of release washed through them both.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was their heavy, synchronized breathing and the soft crackle of the dying fire. Asher collapsed slowly onto her, his weight warm and comforting rather than crushing. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin—rain and winter pine and something uniquely Lydia.

“You okay?” he murmured after a while, his voice still rough, his lips brushing against her collarbone.