by J. L. Perry
Chance clears his throat beside me. When I turn to him, he’s smirking like a motherfucker. “You so have lover balls, Barclay.”
“Whatever.”
“Just be good to her,” he warns. “She’s a sweetheart that one. And as much as I like you, dude, I’d hate to have to rearrange your pretty face if you hurt her.”
“I’d never intentionally hurt her.” Although I seem to have already done that.
“Good.” He looks at his watch. “I’m gonna take off soon. We left CJ and Pixy with the babysitter, and I’m missing my boys.”
Chance pats me on the back a few times, handing me the barbecue tongs before walking away. I shake my head, still finding it amusing that he refers to that damn goat as his kid.
“See ya around, Bateman.”
“Text me, and we’ll meet up,” he says, glancing over his shoulder.
Chance pulls his wife into his arms, placing a chaste kiss on her lips. The look in her eyes when she draws back is one of pure adoration. Tonight is the first time I’ve met Aubrey—they’re a good match.
Everyone seems loved-up.
An old song starts playing on the jukebox, My Boogie Shoes. Grayson pulls Carla closer, dipping her back. When his body moves over hers, he sings the first few lines of the song.
He’s fucking smooth, I’ll give him that.
The chemistry between these two is off the charts. I’ve never seen him so taken with a woman before. He’s a good guy and deserves the best. Watching them together makes me happy, albeit a little envious.
My eyes move back to Emma, she’s observing their interaction as well.
When Grayson stands to full height, he lifts Carla off her feet. She wraps her legs around his waist, crossing them at the ankles, and I divert my eyes when their lips meet in a scorching kiss. Seconds later, he starts toward the house with long determined strides, and I know we’ve lost them for the night, or the interim, anyway.
Lucky bastard.
I’m in the midst of a dry spell, compliments of the spitfire that sits on the opposite side of the deck. She’s in my head, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to get her out. My attraction to her is irrefutable. I’ve jacked off so many times in the past few weeks—to visions of her—I’m surprised I haven’t developed carpal tunnel.
I need to get laid.
My attention involuntarily moves back to my girl. My girl? She’s now sitting on her own since her friends have left. I give her a small smile when her eyes meet mine, tapping my open hand on my leg, encouraging her to come sit on my lap. I chuckle when she narrows her eyes.
Hey, it was worth a try.
I get to my feet to go to her when one of Grayson’s neighbors approaches me.
Christ, not now.
“Hey, Ash.” Her fake tits push into my chest as she runs her long fingernails down my abs before hooking them into the waistband of my jeans.
Fuck.
I take a step back as I wrack my brain trying to remember her name. “Hey… umm…”
“Simone,” she quips, unimpressed that I don’t remember. After all, I did let her suck my cock last year at one of Grayson’s many parties. As lame as this sounds, she accosted me in the hallway and took advantage of me when I was drunk. I’ve been ignoring her advances for years, she simply caught me at a weak moment. Simone’s attractive, but she knows too much about me for me to ever go there with her. My rules are in place for a reason.
“Simone, yeah, right.”
“You looked lonely, so I thought I’d come over and give you some company.”
“I was just moving,” I say. “There’s someone I need to see.”
I busy myself, scooping the food off the barbecue and placing it on the tray before turning it off.
“If you’ll excuse me.”
Her eyes narrow to slits as I place the tray of cooked seafood in her hands and step around her, but my heart drops into the pit of my stomach when I realize Emma’s gone.
Chapter Ten
EMMA
I walk further along the beach before finally taking a seat on the sand. I bring my legs up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them.
I’m trapped here.
I wish I brought my car. Carla’s probably in Grayson’s bed getting her brains screwed out, and Ashton? Well, I couldn’t sit there and watch him being mauled by Malibu-Barbie. She looked like she was ready to feast on him. They seemed very familiar, and it made me wonder if he’s been with her in the past. We’re friends, kind of, and I have no claim over him, but it still sucked to see her fawning all over him. I think what bothers me most is she’s more his type—beautiful, rich, skanky. I’m kidding myself if I ever thought I’d be in his league.
At least I know Carla won’t be spending the night, so I’ll get home eventually. I have another early start tomorrow at the shelter, so I’m hoping it’s not at some ungodly hour.
Closing my eyes, I rest my chin on my knees as I let the cool sea breeze and sweet, salty air permeate my senses. The soothing sounds of the waves as they crash into shore fill my ears, relaxing me somewhat. I didn’t grow up around the ocean, so it’s one of my favorite things about living in California. That, and the warmer weather. Winters in Utah can be brutal.
“There you are,” a voice says, pulling me out of my trance. I don’t have to turn around to know who it is. “I was worried. You should’ve said something before wandering off.”
“Sorry, Dad. You were busy with Malibu-Barbie.” My words come out spiteful, and I don’t like this side of me.
“Malibu-Barbie,” he says with a chuckle, coming to sit down beside me. “Good one, very fitting.”
I shrug my shoulders, unimpressed.
“What are you doing down here?”
“Waiting for Carla, so she can take me home.” I keep my gaze focused straight ahead.
“I can take you home, Em.”
“That’s okay, I’ll wait for Carla.”
There’s a brief silence before he speaks again, “I’m not interested in Simone.” I presume he’s talking about the bimbo.
“So what if you are, it’s none of my business,” I reply. “You’re free to be with whomever you choose.”
“The only person I’m interested in tonight, or any other night over the past three weeks for that matter, is you.”
I turn my head to look at him. It’s been three weeks today since we met. What’s he trying to tell me, that he hasn’t been with another woman since then? I find that hard to believe. I know his type, a typical manwhore. God’s gift to women. He’s probably had more women than I’ve had hot dinners.
“It’s the truth.”
Ashton leans toward me, bumping his shoulder with mine.
“Don’t let me hold you back, you’re free to go back to the party and have sex with her.”
“Maybe it’s you I want to have sex with.”
I roll my eyes, of course, it is. Then tomorrow he won’t want anything to do with me. I know how it works.
Been there, done that.
“I’m not having sex with you, Ashton.”
“I said maybe, I didn’t say I actually want to.”
A smile tugs at my lips.
Asshole.
“I’m fine with that, I just wanted to make it clear.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “Can I ask you why?”
“Why what?”
“Why you don’t want to have sex with me.”
“Simple,” I say, turning my head to look him in the eye. “I don’t sleep with hot guys.”
A grin forms on his face. “You think I’m hot?”
“Of course, that’s the only thing you got out of that sentence.”
“So what are you saying, you only fuck ugly guys?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I could get someone to mess up my face, would that help?” His comment makes me laugh. “You have a pretty laugh,” he says. “You should do that more often.”
“I laugh all the time.
”
“Not around me.”
“That’s because you’re bossy, smug, and insufferable.”
“And hot, Em. Don’t forget hot.”
“And hot. God, your head is so big I’m surprised your body has the strength to carry it around all day.”
“Is that so?” Ashton lunges toward me and wraps his arms around me as he pushes me back into the soft sand. We’re both laughing as he hovers over me. “Haven’t you seen my muscles? I’m plenty strong enough.” While placing all his weight on one arm, he lifts the other in the air, flexing it. “See, they’re huge.”
He’s right, they are, but I already knew that. Not that I was looking. “I bet you look in the mirror and kiss them, too,” I say, laughing.
Ashton stares down at me for the longest time until the smile drops from his face. Something shifts between us like the universe presses the pause button, and he’s all I can see. As much as I’m fighting this, I’m drawn to him. There’s no denying that.
“I’d rather kiss you.”
Everything in me wants to agree, but I know it isn’t a good idea. I’m still reeling from the last one. With that in mind, I place my hand on his chest, halting him before he gets any closer. “We’re friends, remember? Friends don’t kiss.”
He grins. “We’ve already discussed this, Emma. Friends kiss, and I’m glad we’re friends again.”
“We’re not, and we can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because why? You’re going to have come up with something better than that.”
“Because …” I pause, thinking of something witty to say. But, when he leans down, running his nose across my jawline, it’s almost impossible for me to string two words together. He stops, his mouth lingering against my ear. “You know you want to. Stop fighting it.” His warm breath on my skin makes it pebble with goosebumps.
Ashton draws back slightly, his eyes meeting mine once more. I don’t say anything, and neither does he. And when his lips inch toward mine, I’m powerless to stop the inevitable. All my inhibitions and self-control vanish when he’s near.
His lips lightly sweep against mine in feather-like kisses.
Once.
Twice.
And by the third, a soft moan falls from my lips.
Damn him and his sexy mouth.
Sliding my hand around his neck, I reel him in. I need to feel his lips on mine again. He’s like crack, and I want a hit.
“Em,” he groans at both my forwardness and enthusiasm.
His tongue thrusts inside my mouth, his passion is intense as he takes control dominating the kiss. I sink further back into the sand when his body shifts to cover mine, his hard, taut frame pressed against my softness. Our kiss goes on, seemingly endless, until he rolls over, bringing me with him.
My legs straddle his waist as he threads his hands into my hair, connecting our lips once more.
“You drive me wild,” he murmurs. I can feel his erection digging into my sex.
He drives me wild too.
Ashton’s hands slide down to my hips, coaxing me to grind against him. He rolls his pelvis forward, the rough fabric of his denim gliding deliciously over my thin cotton underwear.
I whimper, fighting the urge to move right along with him. After my shameless leg humping at the club that night, I need to play it cool.
His fingers skate down over my outer thighs before moving under my dress. One of his big strong hands cups my ass while the other moves in between us, skimming across my abdomen and sending fire shooting through my belly. My body quivers as I intake a sharp breath.
I’m conflicted.
I want him to touch me, but I’m scared he’ll get the wrong idea.
As much as I’d like to let my resistance go, I can’t have sex with this man.
I just can’t.
Before my mind even registers, his fingers dip beneath the band, sliding through my slick heat.
“Fuck, Em, you’re so wet.”
It feels so good.
It’s been so long since someone has touched me like this. I tilt my head back and moan as my hands come to rest on his shoulders.
He slips a thick finger inside me, and I cry out with pleasure.
“So tight,” he groans.
My head is screaming, stop this before it goes too far, but my raging libido has other ideas. I buck into his hand, encouraging more. Ashton adds a second digit, and I feel tears sting my eyes as the pleasure takes over. Nobody has ever made my body feel this good before.
Nobody.
Not even Bob.
He flips me onto my back before plunging his fingers deeper inside me. I arch off the sand as he takes me higher and higher.
“I need to taste you,” Ashton says, suddenly drawing back.
He kneels back on his haunches as he bunches my dress around my waist. When his thumbs slip into the waistband of my panties, my heart begins to thunder in my chest. It’s only then that his words register.
I need to taste you.
“What are you doing?” I ask, horrified, pushing my body into a sitting position.
“I have to taste you, Em. Fuck, I bet you taste sweet.”
“No,” I say, fumbling to push my dress back down in a panic. Heat flames my cheeks when I realize how ridiculous I must look. I’m a grown woman for Christ’s sake. Digging my heels into the sand, I use them as leverage to move my body out from underneath his.
“Emma.”
I quickly look away.
“Hey.” Ashton leans forward, placing his finger under my chin and bringing my gaze back to him. I close my eyes as humiliation sweeps through me. “Are you okay?”
My eyes remain shut because I can’t bear to see the judgment I know is coming. “I just… I… I can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“I can’t let you do that.”
“Do what?”
My humiliation intensifies, and I’m thankful it’s dark, so he can’t see how red my face has flamed.
“Please don’t make me say it,” I plead.
“Look at me, Em.”
I shake my head.
“Please.”
“No.”
He cups my jaw. “Open your eyes,” he commands.
God, he’s so bossy.
“Emma.” Sighing, I let my eyelids flutter open. “Tell me.”
I stare at him for a few moments before I finally speak. “Umm… you know… I can’t let you do that,” I say, pointing toward my nether regions.
I’m so lame.
“You mean go down on you?” A smile plays at his lips as his eyes bore into mine. “Hasn’t anyone ever done that to you before?” I look away again. “Answer me, Emma.”
“No… no, they haven’t.” My words are spoken so softly they’re barely audible.
“Are you a virgin, sweet-thing?”
“God, no.”
Ashton clears his throat. “So, you’ve had sex, but nobody has even eaten your pussy.”
“Geez. Do you have to be so crass?”
He chuckles at my scolding. “You don’t like it when I talk dirty to you, Em?”
I shrug my shoulders because I don’t mind it, I’m just not used to it. Nobody’s ever been so upfront with me before. It’s kind of sexy.
“Tell me this, has a man ever made you come?”
I bury my face in my hands. This conversation is getting worse by the second.
“Did you forget that I dry humped your leg at the club?”
“So, that’s the only time you’ve ever orgasmed?”
“By a man, yes.”
His eyebrows pinch together. “And by a woman?”
“God, no. I’m not a lesbian if that’s what you’re implying. I mean… not that’s there’s anything wrong with that if I were, I just…”
I like dicks.
“How else have you orgasmed? Do you touch yourself?”
Sweet baby Jesus.
I wish the groun
d would open up and swallow me whole. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with him.
I shrug my shoulders.
“Emma, answer me.”
“I don’t want to talk about this with you.” I stand, but only manage to take a few steps before he leaps up and grabs me, turning me around to face him. “Let me go.”
“Not until you answer me.”
“I don’t want to,” I say, bowing my head.
“Em.”
Gah! I hate it when he says my name so sweetly.
“Bob, okay… Bob is the only other thing to give me an orgasm.”
“Thing?”
“Yes, thing.” It’s not like I can say he’s a person because he’s not.
“Who the fuck is Bob, Emma?”
“My vibrator. Battery-Operated-Boyfriend.”
He’s taken aback by my response, so I use the brief distraction to shrug out of his grip. Turning, I start running back toward the house.
Somebody kill me now.
“Emma, wait,” he calls out, but I don’t stop. Tears blur my vision from the mortification. He must think I’m a total nut-job.
I didn’t even buy the damn thing, Carla did. She said since I wasn’t getting any real dick, I may as well get a bit of action from a fake one.
I hurdle the small concrete wall that lines the Strand, and I’m thankful I don’t land flat on my face, embarrassing myself further. I slip through the gate at the back of Grayson’s property, taking the stairs that lead to the deck, two at a time. I ignore the partygoers who are milling around, dashing past them and through the house. I exit via the front door and don’t stop running until I’m further down the street.
My hands are shaking, and I’m struggling to draw air into my lungs as I dig in my bag for my phone before pulling up the Uber app. I should’ve done this in the first place. The truth is I didn’t want the extra expense, but I’d drain my entire bank account if I could erase the conversation I’ve just had.
“Emma.” I turn to see Ashton marching toward me.
“Go away,” I say.
“Not fucking happening,” he snaps, continuing his approach.
Within a matter of moments, he’s beside me, so I turn my back to him as I frantically scan through the available cars in the area and their estimated costs.
“What are you doing?”
