“There she is!” He pointed at me and I froze like a prisoner caught in a searchlight. “Come on over, luv!” Someone pulled at me and others pushed at me until I found myself right up next to Connor’s leering, drunk face. “Want to get the party started, Ana?”
He trailed a finger along the side of my face. I looked over toward the door, only a few feet away but he stood between me and it. The crowd seemed to close in on us, pressing forward, watching, waiting to see what would happen. They seemed to know Connor liked to put on a show.
Connor brought his hand down to his belt buckle. “You’ve seen Ash. Now you want to see how a real man is built?” He started to undo his belt.
“Why do you get all the fun?” Porn star girl to the rescue! Angry, pushy and no longer in her tube top, the woman who’d dragged me into this mess now shoved me out of it. “I want to suck your cock!” she yelled, dropping down to her knees in front of Connor and taking over where he’d started.
“Yeah! That’s it!” He brought his hands to her head. I saw my opening and took it, literally running out the door.
The car ride home seemed to take forever, the stretch between Santa Clara and San Francisco oozing slowly out mile after mile. Shaken, I took the time to sober up and calm down in the back seat. My phone buzzed a few times but I needed some time to just breathe and feel grateful I’d been able to slip out of that party.
Thank God I wasn’t likely to see much more of Connor. The Blacklist only had one more show on my PR Romance agenda, on New Year’s Eve. After that, there would be no reason to spend time with that creep ever again. This whole deal was hard enough without him harassing me. The library, I reminded myself. If I kept this up for a month Ash would fund the library for the next twenty years. I could do this. It was worth it. I just needed to avoid Connor.
Finally, I pulled out my phone. Ash had been trying to get ahold of me. He’d texted:
Where are you?
and
Let’s go to my place.
Then
Are you at the party?
Then
You OK?
I texted him back that I was fine. I told him I was heading back to my hotel. Then I put the phone away.
He’d wanted me to join him back at his place, not at the Santa Clara party suite. Well, maybe the misunderstanding was for the best. Had I met him alone back at his place, I knew where things would have led. It was better this way, I told myself. Better to be alone, sobering up and crashing down hard in a car by myself. Tomorrow I’d go back to New York and have a few days to detox. The Ash Black detox program. Kind of like those crash diets where you cut out all the good stuff, no alcohol or caffeine or sugar or bread. It was supposed to reset your system and make you never crave the bad stuff again. Only my experience was after the initial high, it just made my cravings worse.
And tonight, I didn’t even go through the initial phase of abstinence. The second I climbed into bed, what did I do? My fingers found my naughty sex and slipped right in, remembering what Ash had done to me on that piano bench.
He’d pushed me back, taken my ass in his hands and devoured me like a panther with a fresh meal. I had no idea it could feel so good. I’d always wondered, of course, but couldn’t imagine how I’d get past feeling self-conscious. The few times it had come up with Stan, he’d acted like we were talking about him eating a poisonous fish. It had been hard to imagine enjoying it when the act had obviously been so distasteful to him.
But Ash. He’d clearly loved every second of it. He’d breathed me in and lapped me up and made me feel like a rare, exquisite flower that offered life-sustaining nectar. My fingers down between my slick folds, I worked myself, remembering how he’d played with my clit, knowing exactly how and when to push, when to tease. He’d sensed my body’s responses even better than I did my own, taken me where I hadn’t even imagined reaching.
I loved how he got a little rough with me, spreading my legs wide, so wide it almost hurt. He brought out something in me, some sensuality, a deep desire to feel possessed by him. To serve and submit.
My breathing quickened. I brought a hand to my breast, massaging, pinching down on my nipple the way he had the other day. Pressing deep into my hole, then down on my clit I worked myself up, up and over. As the ecstasy bucked through my body, it was his name I called out into the dark recesses of my hotel room.
CHAPTER 6
Ash
I sat on the couch in the hotel suite, one girl on my lap, a second to my right, and a third to my left. A few more danced in front of me, putting on a show, hoping I’d watch. But all I could think was ‘damn it.’ I wanted to see Ana again after the show. I wanted her.
I’d headed to the after-party after I couldn’t find her and didn’t hear from her. Then my phone had buzzed with rejection. She was in a goddamned car heading back to S.F. When was the last time I’d been rejected? I had to search my memory for that one. It had to be thirteen or fourteen, the years when I’d first met Connor at boarding school in England. Those upper crust aristocratic Brits had wanted nothing to do with either of us. At my full height with none of my adult bulk and muscle, I’d rattled around that cold campus like a ghost. Seemed the only time people noticed me was to sneer or shove. Thank God for Connor. Had we not met and started playing music together, I don’t know what I would have done.
But what was I doing sitting at an after-party literally covered in pussy thinking about those dark days?
“You were amazing tonight.” A girl with candy-red hair and lips whispered into my ear.
“Thanks.” I have her waist a squeeze. But then I eased them all off of me and stood up. The dancing girls lit up with excitement. Was I joining them? But I disappointed them all, heading through a bedroom with three or four people making good use of the bed. Not surprisingly, Connor was one of them, snorting coke off of a boob. Again?
“Where you going, old man?” He called out, a devilish grin on his face, a trace of powder on his chin. He’d taken to calling me that lately, with an edge. I didn’t like thinking about it. He and I had always been so close. But more than once over the past year I’d wanted to ask, Aren’t you getting tired of this?
I mean, take snorting coke off of a boob. It wasn’t so much that it had gotten boring, but it wasn’t exactly like the first time, now was it? I hadn’t done coke in a couple of years. I didn’t like how paranoid and edgy it made me. And I could think of much better things to do with breasts. But Connor didn’t seem to be slowing down, not one bit. In fact, the more I did, the more he seemed to speed up, as if daring me to say something.
I waved him off and headed into the bathroom, splashing some cold water on my face. Drying off, I looked at myself in the mirror. I squared my shoulders and studied my reflection. Broad chest, I filled out a t-shirt well enough to get girls wet even before I picked up a guitar. I’d come a long way since those scrawny, lonely, adolescent days. Hadn’t I? I thought Ana had enjoyed herself tonight. I certainly had. And I couldn’t have been more clear, I wanted more of her. A lot more. My fingers twitched and itched to be on her skin again. I could still taste her, feel her quivering on my tongue.
I knew she’d felt it all so intensely. With Ana, there wasn’t a moment of fake. I wondered if she’d ever faked a moment in her life? Until she’d met me, of course. Now I’d entangled her in faking everything for a full month.
But I brushed aside that pang of guilt with remembering taking her on that piano bench. How sweet, how pliant, her thighs opening for me. Those sounds she made, the pants, the start of her moans. Then when she really lost it and grabbed my hair, mashing her pussy into my face. It had gotten me so hard I’d felt like I had a freaking jackhammer pressing into the zipper of my jeans. If we’d only had more time, I would have driven it home, taken her right there on the bench while she was dripping and still shaking from her intense orgasm. I’d have ridden her fast and hard right into another one, and another. She was like a drug, this woman, and right now I felt like an a
ddict in dire need of another hit.
But addicts weren’t exactly the best decision makers. I’d signed a no-sex clause over her. What a stupid move. It hadn’t seemed like such a big deal at the time. She’d wanted it in there and I’d wanted my image restored. And now regret didn’t change reality, so maybe it was better that Ana had headed back up to the city. Breach of contract and all that.
But now what was I going to do with my massive hard-on? Where had that been a few minutes ago when I’d had semi-naked women draped all over me? Then, nothing. Now, from just thinking about Ana, I sported some fantastic wood.
I could take myself in my hand. It wouldn’t take long. It would feel good, grasping my long, hard shaft in my palm and giving myself release. But what the fuck? I was in the bathroom hiding from groupies thinking about jerking myself off?
God damn it. There was only one thing to do. And it wasn’t standing around by myself in a bathroom. I wasn’t supposed to head back to New York until Monday. I was supposed to give out a few scoops about how much I missed Ana and then after the weekend I’d go and “surprise” her at work. Cue adorable reunion. Click.
But why not really surprise Ana in New York a day early? Who knew, we might even steal some time together without anyone finding out? I might get Ana to myself, all to myself, far away from the cameras and prying eyes. I could think of a few things I’d like to do to her. She had a lot more orgasms in store.
§
Six o’clock Sunday night I stopped by Ana’s apartment. I had her address from the reams of legal documents we’d both had to sign. She lived in a seedy section of Brooklyn. I didn’t like the idea of her walking around there by herself at night. I didn’t exactly see men with guns holding people up, but it seemed like at least even odds it would happen at some point on her block that evening.
“Who is it?” I didn’t recognize the female voice speaking to me through the intercom.
“I’m a friend of Ana’s.” With a name like mine, you didn’t throw it around. It could go off like a hand grenade, and I wanted my entrance to have much more stealth.
“Yeah? What’s her favorite color?”
What? “Um…” We hadn’t exactly had that discussion. What colors had I seen her wearing? Lots of black, come to think of it. “Black?”
“Brrrnt. Wrong.” The woman gave me the buzzer sound. Then I heard some rustling and a few muffled words exchanged.
“Hello?” Ana now spoke, and I smiled at the sound of her voice.
“Hey, Ana. It’s me.”