by J. L. Perry
“Ordering an Uber.”
Ashton reaches over my shoulder, snatching the phone from my hands. “I don’t think so.”
“Give that back!”
Turning, he starts heading toward his car. “If you want a ride, I’ll drive you.”
“I’d rather go with a stranger.”
He abruptly swings around, and the anger I see permeating off him stops me in my tracks. “Get in the fucking car, Emma. Now!”
“No.” I cross my arms over my chest. I’m sick of him bossing me around. Who the hell does he think he is?
He exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. We both stand there in silence for a few moments before his heated glare meets mine once more. “Have it your way,” he says, closing the distance between us. My heart starts to hammer in my chest.
In one swift motion, he picks me up, hoisting me over his shoulder. “Put me down you… you big brute.”
His hand comes down on my ass, hard. “No!”
Before I know it, I’m being deposited in his car. Ashton leans in, dragging the seat belt across my body before clicking it into place. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay put.”
“Jackass,” I mumble under my breath as he slams the door closed.
Once he’s seated in the driver’s side, he takes off at high speed. My hands clutch around the seat belt holding on for dear life. Thankfully, a few moments later, he slows down to a reasonable speed. I feel immediate relief. As horrified as I am about the goings-on tonight, I’d still rather get home in one piece.
Minutes pass before he finally speaks. “Why did you run away from me?”
“You expect me to answer that?”
“Yes.”
“I just told you I pleasure myself with a fake penis.”
When he doesn’t reply, I hesitantly look in his direction. I want to punch him when I see him grinning.
“Do you know how many times I’ve jacked off to the image of you over the past three weeks, Emma? I’m surprised I still have skin on my dick.”
I gasp at his admission. “You’ve… umm… jacked off to images of me?”
“Yes.”
His eyes briefly dart to me.
I’m pretty sure my mouth is hanging open right now.
“You’re lying.”
“Why would I lie about something like that?”
“To make me feel better.”
“There’s nothing wrong with masturbating, Em.”
“It’s a sin,” I say, although I’m not even really religious.
“And so is fornication, yet you’ve still participated in that.” He’s right, and I’m pretty sure it’s not the only sin I’ve committed.
Christ, I probably should go to confession.
“Can I ask you something?” he says, breaking the silence.
“As long as it doesn’t include Bob, sure.”
Ashton smiles again, and my cheeks heat up. This night won’t be one I forget in a hurry. “How many times have you had sex?”
“None of your damn business.”
“We’re friends, right? Friends talk about this kind of stuff.”
“We’re not friends.”
“Yes, we are,” he grumbles. “You even said so yourself moments ago.”
I huff before replying, “Two and a half.”
“What?”
“You heard, two and a half times.”
“With the same man?”
“No, three different men.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“It does to me.”
“Enlighten me then. How in the hell do you have sex half a time?”
“You’re a smart man, Barclay, figure it out.”
He goes quiet for a moment, pondering my reply. “I have no idea. Wait, a midget. It was with a midget, right?”
“No,” I say, giggling. “I’m pretty sure that would still count for a full time… well, as long as it went the whole-hog.”
“Ah… now we’re getting somewhere.”
My gaze moves to him. “I don’t want to talk about this with you.”
“Too bad, we’re going to.”
“Ugh!” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Was the half time your first?”
“No,” I refuse to talk about my first time with him. Some things are too painful to relive. “I don’t want to talk about that time. Ever!”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t.” His brow furrows, but I don’t care. “It was the second time. My half time… I was in college.” I clam up after that. It’s all the information he’s getting.
“And?”
“And nothing.”
“Emma!”
“Fine. Jesus, you’re relentless. This guy was a study buddy. In the beginning, I wasn’t interested in his advances, my first time had kind of put me off sex. I’d pretty much sworn off men.”
“Why?”
“I just had.” As I said, I’m not going into this with him. “The more I got to know him, the more I liked him. I thought he was one of the good ones.”
“Like me,” he says, smirking. When I don’t justify his comment with an answer, he continues. “And he wasn’t?”
“No. One night we ended up back at his apartment. He said his roommate was out for the evening… one thing led to another.” I wave my hand in front of me. “I’m sure you don’t want all the juicy details, let’s just say he never got the chance to dive right in… he was… umm, splashing around in the shallows when we were interrupted.”
“Splashing around in the shallows.” He laughs at my analogy. “I’m still not sure if that counts as a half.”
I roll my eyes. “In my book, it does.”
“So you never revisited things with guy number two?”
“No.” I sigh. “I purposely left out the part that despite his roommate coming home, he wanted to carry on. I may be a lot of things, but an exhibitionist isn’t one of them. Just being there that night was huge for me, and there was no way I was going to have sex with an audience.”
“Wow.”
“Wow is right. I found out months later that this was something they did often. Sick bastards.”
“And the third time?”
“Jesus, you’re nosey.”
“Does Carla know all this?”
“Of course.”
“Well, hello.” He places his hand on his chest, faking hurt. “We’re friends, too, you know.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “The third time was a few months after I moved here.”
“To LA?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you live here?”
“Two years.”
“So, there’s been nobody since then.”
“Nope.”
“Fuck.” I try to ignore the fact that he adjusts his crotch as he speaks.
“Well, actually, there was this one other guy I dated late last year.”
“But you never slept with him?”
“I tried.”
“What do you mean you tried?” He frowns as he continues to watch the road.
“It wasn’t one of my finest moments,” I say. “I invited him up for coffee after our third date. Everyone knows what coffee is code for, right?” I say, turning in my seat slightly to face him.
“Right, code for sex.”
“Exactly. Well, he came up, and I practically threw myself at him…” I pause. It was the most brazen I’d ever been with a man, and it backfired in my face big time.
“And?”
“He drank his coffee, then left.” We both laugh. “I kind of gave up after that.”
He reaches across the center console, placing his hand on my leg. “Well, he was either an idiot or gay.”
“It doesn’t matter, anyway.”
“It does matter. You need to find yourself a real man.”
“Let me guess, someone like you?”
“You could do a lot worse than me, Emma,” he says with a wink.
Re
aching over, I playfully slap him on the chest, and he laughs.
Thankfully, the barrage of questions cease, and we travel the rest of the way in silence, but he doesn’t remove his hand off my thigh.
I don’t mind, though.
A bit of thigh action is okay.
He pulls up outside my building, and I remove my seat belt. “Well, thanks for the ride.” I just want this evening to be over with.
“Hold on,” he says when I reach for the door handle. “I’ve got it.”
Ashton exits the car before I have a chance to protest.
“Thank you.”
“Let me walk you up.”
“There’s no need,” I say, waving him off.
“It’s late,” he replies. “I’m walking you up, and that’s final.”
Ugh! So bossy.
I clutch my bag against my chest, walking a few steps ahead as we travel down the long concrete path toward my building. I’m still reeling from everything that’s happened tonight, so I need to keep my distance.
As we head toward the stairs, I see Stan, the old homeless man that sometimes sleeps within the confines of our building. He hasn’t been around for the past few weeks, and I smile knowing he’s okay. Carla and I often bring him down food and water when he’s here. On the colder nights, I’ve brought him hot drinks, and one time I gave him a blanket which I can see he’s still using. He doesn’t say much, but I can tell he’s appreciative. His light blues eyes shine against his dirty, aging face. I must remember to grab something for him on the way to the shelter in the morning. That’s if he’s still around. He usually arrives late and leaves early. Probably before the other tenants are up as they are not so giving.
I dig into my bag, pulling out a ten-dollar bill. As I pass, I reach down, gently sliding it into the top pocket of his worn jacket. He’s sound asleep and doesn’t flinch.
“Emma,” Ashton scolds, reaching for my arm.
“Relax, he’s harmless.”
“How do you know that?” he angrily whispers as we climb the stairs.
“Because he’s here all the time. I’ve fed him often.”
I hear Ashton growl from behind me, but I choose to ignore it. I have way more than this poor man ever will, so it would be selfish and downright inhumane for me not to share some of my good fortune with him.
When we approach my apartment, I dig in my bag, fishing out my keys. “Well, thank you for bringing me home and walking me to my door,” I say, turning to face him.
“What, you’re not going to invite me in for coffee?”
“Nice try, Barclay.”
He chuckles. Cheeky shit. “I don’t feel right leaving you here alone, Em.”
“Don’t be silly. Look…” I gesture at the new locks he installed, “… this place is like Fort Knox now.”
He rolls his eyes even though he’s smiling.
I hold out my hand in front of him.
“What?” he asks.
“Can I have my phone back now?”
Reaching into his pocket, he retrieves it. “Just let me program my number in just in case you need me.”
“I won’t be needing you, Ashton. I’m more than capable of looking after myself.”
Flicking my phone open, he disregards my comment. “Who’s this?” he asks, turning the screen toward me.
“That’s Duke. My little buddy from the shelter.” I’ve saved a picture of him on my home screen.
“Right. The one you’re in love with.” He drags out the word love.
“Someone sounds a little jealous.”
“I’m not jealous of a dog, Emma.”
“Of course, you’re not,” I say, smiling. He certainly sounds like he is.
Once he’s finished, he hands back my phone.
“Well, good night, I have an early start at the shelter tomorrow, so I need to get some sleep.”
“Do you mind if I quickly use your bathroom before I leave.”
“Sure,” I say, sighing. If he thinks I’m going to give in and let him stay, he’s mistaken.
I remain standing just inside the doorway to be on the safe side. I don’t want him getting comfortable—he needs to leave.
There’s a shit-eating grin on his face as he exits the hallway, approaching me.
What’s he up to?
Leaning in, his lips brush with mine as he rushes out the door. “Good night, sweet-thing.”
“Good night.”
“Dream of me.”
“Don’t count on it,” I say to his retreating back, and I hear him laugh as he heads toward the stairs.
“We both know you will.”
And I hate to admit that he’s probably right.
Smug bastard.
Chapter Eleven
ASHTON
I feel the minuscule bump as I run over it with my car. I laugh to myself at the absurdity of this situation. But it needed to be done. I refuse to compete with a toy.
I saved my number on Emma’s phone under ‘My ridiculously hot friend’ and quickly sent myself a text without her knowledge, so I’d have her number as well.
Pulling it up, which I’ve saved under ‘Sweet-thing,’ I start typing my message.
My ridiculously hot friend: Dearest Em, it’s with great sadness and the heaviest of hearts that I have to inform you of the tragic accident I witnessed just now.
R.I.P. Bob.
I quickly snap an image of her mangled ex-silicone-lover who’s lying underneath the front right tire of my car and attach it.
The smile on my face is huge when I press send. It’s hands down the most outrageous thing I’ve ever done. I used the ruse of needing to use her bathroom before I left, but in reality, I snuck into her bedroom and snagged that fucker out of the bedside drawer beside her bed.
I don’t share.
I wait a few moments for a reply, but when one doesn’t come, I presume she’s already gone to bed. Such a shame. I was looking forward to her reaction once she realized what I’d done.
I quickly type another message, adding fuel to fire, wishing the whole time I could be a fly on the wall when she wakes to see the look on her face. I can pretty much guarantee she’ll be furious.
My ridiculously hot friend: I’m more than willing to come back and console you in your time of need, after all that’s what friends do for each other, right?
P.S. All your future orgasms belong to me now, sweet-thing.
You have my number, call me. ;)
I’m feeling somewhat let down by the time I arrive back at my place. My time with her was limited, and I was hoping I’d get a reply sooner rather than later. I’m not ready for my night with her to end.
I should stay away, especially now that I know how innocent she is, but if I’m honest, it only makes me crave her more. I usually like my women seasoned, but her inexperience is alluring, to say the least. I’m enjoying having to fight for it for a change. The fact she’s not making it easy is hot.
I can’t deny there’s something between us, something I haven’t found with any of the others. I’m captivated by her, but I’m unsure why. Is it the challenge? The thrill of the chase? Or something entirely different? It’s a riddle I’m yet to decipher.
All I know is I want to be the one to show her what she’s been missing, to be the man who gives her the ultimate pleasure. When I’m around her, I feel good inside. Considering my past, that in itself is huge for me.
Sweet-thing: YOU ROTTEN BASTARD!!!!!
I throw back my head and roar laughing when I wake to her reply. She’s so fucking amusing.
My ridiculously hot friend: You wound me Em. Sounds like someone is a little frustrated this morning. Do you need me to come and rectify that?
Her reply comes through almost immediately.
Sweet-thing: Bite me, Barclay!
My ridiculously hot friend: With pleasure!
I lie in bed grinning like a fool, awaiting another response, but it never comes. Despite that, I’m still in an exceptionally good mood
this morning.
Flicking back the covers, I rise, heading to the bathroom.
Once I’m showered and dressed, I make myself a coffee and move to the back deck overlooking the ocean. I enjoy my downtime and the solitude this place brings me, but today, I’m feeling antsy like I need to get out. Maybe Grayson is still interested in getting a dog, although I know he only said that to lure me to Emma. I want to see her again.
I slip my phone out of my pocket and type him a message.
Ashton: You up?
He replies a few minutes later.
Grayson: Yeah. Getting my laundry ready to drop off at Mom’s. Granny Edwards is visiting for the weekend, so I’ll probably hang out there for a while.
I love his grandma. I remember many times wishing I had one just like her. My parents are stuffy, and unfortunately, my grandparents are even stuffier.
Granny Edwards was around a lot when we were growing up, especially after her only son, Grayson’s father, died. She even moved in with them for a while to help his mom with the kids. His parents had no health insurance and threw everything they owned into his treatment when he got sick, including selling their home. Unfortunately, he succumbed to the disease anyway. Grayson was only ten when he passed, and life for his family changed dramatically after that.
The first thing he bought when we started our company was a home for his mother and younger sister.
Ashton: Pick me up on your way through.
Grayson: Okay. I’ll be there in ten.
“Where’d you disappear to last night? Did you take Red back to your place?” he asks the moment I’m seated in his car.
“Nah, I dropped her home. You know I don’t take women back there.” Although I already know I would’ve if she let me.
“You’re different with her, though.” I shrug, as my gaze moves to the passenger side window. “I take it you two didn’t get it on then?”
“I told you, we’re just friends.”
“Sounds like you’re losing you touch, Barclay.”
I blow out a long breath. He’s right, I am. I’m not used to women not wanting me. “Can we talk about something else?”
