He traced a finger up my belly and over my sternum until his hand rested flat against my thudding chest. “If you think your heart is racing now, imagine what it’ll feel like when my cock is buried deep inside of you. When I’m in so far and buried so deep, there’s nowhere else for me to go. When you’re so full of me you think you’re going to break apart. Imagine what it’ll be like when you’re down on all fours in front of me and I’m slamming into you, my balls smacking against your pussy and my handprint glowing on your pink, heated flesh. Imagine how fast your heart will beat when I lay you out like a feast and dine on your exquisite cunt, when I nibble on that beautiful little clit of yours until you you’re not sure if you’re in heaven or in hell. Imagine how hard it’ll beat when I take you farther than you’ve ever gone before.”
As Ash spoke, the sound of his voice calmed the angry fire burning inside of me and stoked a wholly different one back to life. With just his words, my desire raged to the fore, the skin of my thighs prickling with awareness, with memories. I’d felt his head between my thighs once before, his beard abrading that sensitive skin. I knew what it was like to have him feast on me, like he was a dying man and I was his last meal. Between his words and my memories, my lust built, my stomach clenched, and my pussy quivered.
I don’t know what Ash saw on my face in that moment, but whatever it was, it pleased him. “Yeah, just like that,” he crooned. “Let go,” he commanded as he rolled his hips beneath me, the friction of his wool trousers against my exposed center rough and tantalizing. “Remember what it was like when I fucked you before, when you fucked me back,” he encouraged, slipping a long, thick finger inside of me, brushing up against my g-spot, pumping fast.
I screamed for my life as my orgasm hit. “Holy shit, I’m coming.” The words came out as a roar as the massive wave—a tsunami of feeling—washed over me and then crashed to shore, leaving me shattered like a million pieces of sand scattered at Ash’s feet.
When I opened my eyes, he was licking my juices from his finger. “So fucking sweet.”
I collapsed against him in a fit of exhausted giggles.
Having spent most of my life on stage, I didn’t regularly feel exposed under the watchful gaze of an appreciative audience. If anything, I reveled in being the center of attention. And yet, as Ash and I sat across from each other on the private jet to Portland I ducked my head and stared down at the book in my lap, letting the fall of my hair shield me from his gaze.
What had happened in the car—what I’d let him do to me—kept coming back to me. Obviously, I wasn’t a prude about sex, but I struggled with how I’d literally begged him to let me come. How I’d let him reduce me to nothing but a needful bunch of nerve endings. He’d commanded me, and pushed me past my limits. He’d made me feel out of control; like I had back when I would have done anything for my next drink. In his lap, I would have done anything for my orgasm.
And I couldn’t ignore the way he’d needed to control the situation, to control me. There was something about him and his needs I didn’t understand, and until I did, I would be wise to tread carefully. I’d never been with a dominant man—the idea had never appealed to me—and now, having glimpsed what that might be like, I wasn’t sure I liked that side of him. Or me.
Physically speaking, for as relatively tame as it had been, it had also been one of the most erotic experiences of my life. But, given how carefully my sobriety needed to be managed, I couldn’t give up the reins of control the way he’d want next time. I’d spent far too long being out of control that the idea left me unsettled. And yet, my body still thrummed with the memory of the way he’d played me like a finely-tuned instrument.
“I can see the wheels turning in your head,” Ash remarked.
I closed my book and set it aside. Folding my hands primly in my lap, my legs crossed at the ankles, I decided to attack the problem head on. Hiding from things, or staying quiet and hoping something would change on its own, was never a smart idea. We needed to discuss the situation like mature, level-headed adults.
“You pushed me back there.”
“I did.”
“I’m don’t know if I liked it,” I continued, keeping my eyes trained on his face, looking for a glimmer of emotion.
Ash rested his elbows on his knees and made a steeple with his fingers. Propping his chin on the point, he studied me, his shrewd eyes raking over my face, then down my body, and back up again. “Your body said otherwise.”
I met his challenging stare with one of my own, my eyebrow cocked. “I’m not denying that I came. What I’m telling you is that I didn’t enjoy the overall experience. I didn’t appreciate you dismissing my wants.”
“Is that what you think happened?” he asked, and I could see he was truly perplexed.
“I wouldn’t have said so otherwise.”
He sat back and rubbed his hand over his beard. “I …” He paused, and then, thinking better of whatever it was he’d intended to say, cleared his throat. “My apologies then.”
“I don’t want you to apologize,” I huffed, exasperated. “I want us to talk about it.”
He shrugged, the gesture meant to be nonchalant, but Ash wasn’t the only one who could read people, who knew how to interpret body language. He wasn’t as comfortable as he wanted me to believe. “It’s not a big deal. If you didn’t like it, it won’t happen again.”
“You’re lying,” I challenged, and this time I did get a reaction. A small one, but the slight widening of his eyes and the tightening of his jaw said I’d struck a nerve. “Look, I’m just going to put this out there, and then we can drop it if you’d like. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together—probably more than I’ve spent with anyone, save Charlotte—and we’ve proven we’re not great at keeping our hands to ourselves. So … I’m just saying that I think it’s important that we figure out how this is going to work.”
“You didn’t enjoy yourself, but you want a repeat performance?” Ash’s brow furrowed.
I tried switching tactics. “Before, in Boise, were you bossy like earlier?”
“You really don’t remember that night, do you?”
“Not all of it,” I admitted. “I see flashes of it, snippets really, but nothing concrete.”
The line of his shoulders tightened, and he rubbed the pad of his fingers over his lips. “I didn’t intend to go back to your hotel. If I’m being honest, when I approached you with that shot of bourbon, the most I was hoping for was a quick blowjob in the bathroom or something.”
He paused, as if waiting for me to argue over the indelicacy of the scene he painted. He’d be waiting a long time, if that was the case. I loved giving blow jobs. It was one of the things I missed most about my self-enforced celibacy. There was just something so fucking primal about being down on your knees with a big, thick, pulsing cock in your mouth. Primal, and powerful.
“Right,” he continued when I didn’t balk. “If I’d known you were so drunk you wouldn’t remember me in the morning, I wouldn’t have gone home with you. I’ve done a metric ton of bad shit in my life, but taking advantage of a woman who is incapable of making wise decisions isn’t part of the deal.”
I regretted that my honesty made him feel as if he’d taken advantage of me. Since that wasn’t at all how I remembered my time with him, I said, “You’re not responsible for my shitty life choices. If it sets your mind at ease, I definitely remember some things. Walking into the hotel lobby, kissing in the elevator, stumbling to my room with another bottle of Jack clenched in my fist. The drunken removal of clothing. It’s just what comes after that is fuzzy.” I smiled weakly. “I wanted you in my room. I made that decision.”
I fell silent, the only sound the whirring of the jet’s engine.
Eventually, Ash clasped his fingers over his abs. “Alright, if you say so.”
“I do,” I nodded. “So, about what happened next …”
“Are you sure you want to know?” he asked, his eyes flicking between mine with
concern.
I nodded. “I need to.”
Picking up his glass of soda water and lime, Ash took a long drink, set it down, and studied me for a few seconds before speaking. “You kept begging me to make you feel something. Anything but the numbness, is what you said. At one point, you slapped me across the face and yelled at me to just fuck you already. I thought about leaving because it was clear you had issues, but … I didn’t.” He rubbed his index finger over his lips again. “I couldn’t.”
“Were you …” I paused, looking for the right words. “Did you try to control me then, too?”
“I’m not always like that,” he said, his admission startling in its rawness, its vulnerability. “I prefer it that way, but I don’t need it. But you? You needed it that night.”
I sucked in a breath of surprise as he continued.
“Your emotions were all over the place. One minute you’d be kissing me like I was the last man on earth, and the next you’d be pacing the room, telling me you hadn’t done anything wrong. I asked what you were talking about, but you’d just go back to kissing me, telling me you didn’t want to talk about it. I could tell you were hurting so I asked what you wanted me to do. You told me to make you feel. So I took control.”
I closed my eyes and tried to conjure up a memory of that night. Maybe it was hearing his version of events, but this time, his words brought more to the surface than I’d been able to recall before. “You tied my hands to the headboard,” I breathed out, as a memory of him using two of my scarves to bind me to the posts fluttered to the surface. I could almost feel the fabric snaking softly over my wrists. “And …” I tilted my head, chasing a hazy picture. “Did you make me come up with a safe word?”
I opened my eyes to find Ash watching me. “Always.”
“Pumpkin?” I questioned.
He shrugged. “You were pretty set on it. I figured if it was something you felt so strongly about, that was a good thing.”
“I can’t remember why I picked that,” I admitted, wondering at my strange choice. “What happened next?”
He smiled wolfishly. “Then I ate your pussy until you came all over my face. I kissed your soaked cunt like I was a dying man, and you were the last woman on earth.”
The cunt in question pulsed, and I knew if I touched myself—if Ash touched me—I’d be wet for him.
“And then?” I asked breathlessly.
Ash leaned forward and his eyes bored into mine. He licked his lips, as if he could still taste me there. “And then I fucked you.”
My eyelids dropped as I willed the memory to the surface. When it didn’t come, I wanted to sob. When I opened my eyes, Ash had scooted to the edge of his seat, our knees practically touching. His eyes flicked between mine and then held for a few beats. “And when you came, screaming my name—a name you didn’t remember the next morning—you told me it’d never been that good, that you’d never come that hard before. You admitted you liked being tied up and told what to do.”
“I did?” I asked, skeptically. That didn’t sound like me at all. If anything, when I’d been sleeping my way across Route 66, I’d been the aggressor, the one calling the shots. I could believe I’d begged Ash to make me feel something I’d been going through life numb. But I had trouble imagining I’d given myself over so completely to a virtual stranger. I’d never even done that with Ford.
He nodded. “So, you can imagine why I’m confused about you saying that’s not what you like.”
Ugh. No wonder Ash was confused. I’d done one thing, and now I was saying another. “What a mess.” I shoved my hands in my hair and tugged at the roots. This was more complicated than I’d thought, and I’d already found it pretty fucking complicated.
I dropped my hands to my knees. “One of the things that I took from rehab was not keeping my thoughts bottled up where they can fester and rot. When I was drunk, I spoke my mind freely. But sober? Well, I haven’t always been great at speaking my mind. When I got out, I promised myself I wasn’t going to be that way anymore.”
At the mention of my stint in rehab, Ash’s eyes dimmed and his face morphed from curious to somber.
“Does that bother you?”
“What? You speaking your mind? Not at all.”
“Then what it is? You don’t want to hear about my time in rehab,” I asked with a defiant lift of my chin.
While Ash wasn’t the great love of my life, the reality was he was in my life—even if I was paying him to be there. Sooner or later he was going to learn all about my past. He might as well hear it from me instead of reading about it on the Internet.
“It’s not that. I’m just surprised. I thought you might keep dancing around it. It’s not like I don’t know already.”
“Yeah, but it’s one thing to read the woman you want to fuck is a drunk, and a whole other thing to hear her discuss it so easily, isn’t it?”
“It’s not that,” Ash said, but he wouldn’t meet my gaze.
“The funny thing is,” I continued despite the ball of nervousness forming in my stomach. I hadn’t been lying. Sober, I hated talking about this shit. “I would have thought you of all people wouldn’t care. You already know what my crazy looks like.”
Ash rubbed his hand across his beard again. I’d realized he did that when he was nervous or trying to suss out a situation he wasn’t entirely comfortable with.
“I don’t give a shit about you going to rehab. We all have our demons,” he finally answered.
“I wouldn’t hold it against you if that’s it and you’re trying to spare my feelings. Not everyone can accept the idea of a woman hitting rock bottom. But if you say it’s not that, I’ll believe you. So, what’s got you bothered?” I notched my head to indicate his hands fisted at his sides.
Ash’s jaw ticked, but before he could open his mouth to answer, the stewardess approached. “Excuse me Ms. Griffin, Mr. Devereaux. The plane will be landing shortly, so I’ll ask you to fasten your seatbelt now for the remainder of the flight. Once we land, the pilot wants you to know we’ll have a long taxi since we’re not heading to the usual wing.”
My eyes flicked to Ash, questioning.
“Just a precaution,” he said, answering my silent plea.
I nodded and turned back to Amy. “Thank you. For everything.” I handed her my empty water so she could take it with her into the galley at the front of the plane. As she passed, she smiled down at Ash, her eyes lingering on his mouth. The look of naked desire on her face was so clear even a blind man wouldn’t have missed it.
I wasn’t a jealous woman. After all, I had no real claim on Ash, but I didn’t relish the idea of discussing not remembering our night together while locked in a flying tin can with someone who could recall exactly how Ash liked to fuck and be fucked. I liked Amy, but I hated her too for knowing for certain what I could only claw at.
Chapter Nine
Rae
“This whole damsel in distress thing isn’t nearly as sexy as it sounds in the books,” Charlotte said into the phone as she also munched on a carrot stick.
I laughed. “What books are you reading? Because I’m not sure hiding out from a deranged killer has ever sounded sexy.”
“I don’t know,” she answered. “Aren’t there a bunch of stories where a strong, handsome prince rescues the wayward princess from the clutches of an evil mastermind?” She sighed, as if she could use her own handsome prince.
“I take it Gage isn’t living up to your fantasies?”
She huffed. “He acts like I don’t even exist. We’ve spent zero time together since we got here. I think he might be avoiding me.
I scribbled a random doodle in my notebook as I stared out the windows at the Sitka spruce that seemed to stretch from here to eternity. “I’m tempted to ask where ‘here’ is, but since you’re not supposed to know where I am, my guess is the same rules apply to your location.”
She chuckled, and then sighed. “Let’s just say the BBQ doesn’t live up to the hype.”
“So either Texas, Tennessee, or North Carolina,” I guessed.
“I sometimes forget how serious you are about your meat.”
“You know I never joke about meat,” I told her, picturing Ash as he’d walked from his home gym to the back of the house, his sweat-soaked chest glistening and his muscles rippling with each step he took. “Hot, juicy, mouthwatering meat.”
As if she could read my mind, Charlotte asked, “Speaking of, how are things going with Ash?
“About the same as you. I already told you what happened in the car on the way to the airport, and then on the plane.”
“You don’t know that he’s slept with her,” Charlotte countered. “I mean, maybe she was just appreciating his fine masculine form.”
“No, she’s slept with him before. A woman doesn’t look at a man like that unless she knows exactly what he’s working with.”
“Awkward.”
I nodded, but then remembered she couldn’t see me. I’d been worried what it would be like to be separated from Charlotte, but we talked at least once a day so I hadn’t had a chance to miss her yet. Sometimes I forgot she wasn’t sitting there next to me. “The worst of it is while I’m sitting there wracking my brain trying to remember that night, she’s sizing him up like she can’t wait to repeat the experience.”
“Ugh, I’m sorry.”
I sighed. “It isn’t even that she fucked him too. I can hardly complain about that. I’m just jealous, you know?”
“And you haven’t talked again? It sounds like you were making headway with each other and for him to just drop it seems odd.”
“Nope,” I answered. “Like I said, I think he’s avoiding me. He does his morning rounds of the property and then he disappears for hours at a time. He ran into town yesterday to pick up a huge grocery delivery. When he dropped the bags off in the kitchen, he confirmed he’d found the paprika I asked for and that was it. Not another word since.”
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