I push deeper, each drive harder than the last as I kiss her, tasting her sweet breath. Her hands race down my back to my ass. She whimpers then, it's so faint, but it's there.
I pull back needing to pump harder, my body's desire to fuck clouding everything. It's primal, real and overwhelming.
"Does it hurt?" I ask through a deep groan even though it would kill me if I have to stop if she says it too much. I will though. I'll take it slower. "Tell me I'm not hurting you."
"Don't stop." Her voice is low and filled with need. "I'm close."
I lick my thumb before I reach down to press on her clit, honing in on that swollen nub of nerves. That's all it takes. Her eyelids flutter, her lips quiver and as her pussy clenches like a vice around my cock, I rut into her with quick and solid thrusts until I climax saying her beautiful, beautiful name.
CHAPTER 21
Falon
I've been awake for close to an hour now. I haven't moved from this spot though. It's morning. I don't know what time, but judging by the way the sunlight is casting a shadow almost to the foot of my bed, I think it's already past nine.
If I had a shoot this morning I would have shook him awake, but I don't have to be at my studio until noon. I'm in no rush to leave. I'm not even sure I can walk after last night.
Asher took me with a passion I haven't felt from a man before. I was raw after he fucked me the first time, his cock larger than I'm used to. It filled me so completely that when he pumped hard, there was pain I've never felt before.
It was seductive and addictive and later, after we ate some fruit and drank some water, he took me again. The second time it was against the wall, with my legs wrapped around him while he chanted my name over and over again.
He's asleep now. I've studied every line of his face, memorizing it so that when he leaves I'll remember this night for the rest of my life. Maybe Maya was right when she told me that this will be an experience I'll look back fondly on when I'm too old to remember exactly what it felt like to be pressed against his skin or to hear him say my name as he came.
I look past his shoulder to where my camera is resting on a chair. When I first woke up I was tempted to pull myself free from his grasp so I could take a picture of him like this. I never would have showed it to a soul. I would have kept it all to myself but it felt too intrusive.
After watching him hedge his way around his fans, I don't want to be one of those who steals a picture of him just because I can.
I rest my cheek against his, listening to the sound of his breathing, watching his chest as it rises, and then falls.
His mouth curves into a soft smile as his arms pull me tighter. "Are you awake, Falon?"
That voice. It's deep and delicious, the tone muddled by the edges of sleep that are lingering still.
"I'm awake," I whisper against his cheek. "I haven't been awake that long."
"You should have woke me." He licks his bottom lip as his eyes squint open. "Why didn't you?"
I can't tell him the reason. I don't want to sound like a pathetic girl who is already developing feelings for a man she met less than a week ago. I'm not going to toss that burden on him. He must sleep with several women per month, if not per week. I refuse to turn into that girl who begs him to see her again. I won't do that, even though a tiny part of me wants to right now.
I ignore the question. "Are you hungry? I can cut up more fruit or we can order something in."
He pushes my hair back from the side of my face. "I don't want to eat."
I nod. There's no time for that. He probably has a place he needs to be. I'm surprised his phone hasn't been ringing off the hook with people searching for him. Can someone as famous as him just stay the night with a virtual stranger without anyone looking for him?
"Do you have to go?" I sigh, even though I don't want to. "I have a shoot in a couple of hours so I should probably get ready for that."
"Are you kicking me out?" He playfully taps his toes against my leg. "You're not throwing me out, are you? Is that how this works?"
I laugh loudly as I run my hand through my hair. "I need to shower. I look terrible and I have an important client coming in at noon."
"You look beautiful." He pulls himself up until he's resting on his elbow. "You could walk into your studio right now and wow whoever the hell you're meeting at noon."
They're the words of a man well fucked. He's satisfied. I felt it last night in the way he held me after he came. I heard it in his voice when he said my name as he was drifting off to sleep. I made him as happy as he made me. That's all I could ask for. It's more than most women will ever get with him.
"I should get ready." I suddenly feel the urge to get out of bed. "You can shower first if you want."
"Can we shower together?" He grazes his lips across my cheek. "I can wash you; help you come again before I go."
It's so tempting. There's no reason for me to say no, so I don't. "I'd like that."
"What are we waiting for?" He kicks the bedcovers off us both, tugs my hand into his and leads me straight to the washroom.
***
I rest my forehead against the cool tiled wall of the shower. The water is beating on my back. It's warm now, the heat chased away by all the time we've spent in here.
I took him in my mouth first, out of a desperate need to taste him the way he tasted me. His cock was smooth and slick as I took it as far as I could into my throat. He bucked and circled as he fucked my mouth slowly, so slowly that I was afraid he wouldn’t come.
He did. He pulled himself from me, told me to look up and as he fisted his cock I waited for his release. It came like a flood, covering my face, my hair and my tongue. I closed my eyes as I swallowed what I could. It was a gift, a gift he'd given to me in this tiny, cramped shower.
His hands were gentle as he washed me, taking care to plump my nipples until they were aching. I wanted to come too and when his fingers first ran over my pussy I moaned so loud that the sound echoed off the walls.
A kiss quieted me and as his tongue tempted me, his fingers did the same, circling my clit and plunging inside of me until I came so violently that I lost my footing. He was there pulling me into his chest with soft, reassuring words about wanting to touch me again and loving the way I sound.
He left the shower when his phone rang. I felt bereft as I watched the glass door shut behind him but then I rested my head against the wall, breathing deeply, knowing that soon I'll have to get out, get ready and go to work as if my life is exactly the same as it was yesterday.
CHAPTER 22
Asher
There's only one woman I want to see today. Unfortunately, I had to say goodbye to her just now on the sidewalk outside her studio.
I kissed her there, with people brushing past us, in a hurry to get to wherever it is they need to go. I wrapped her in my arms, wishing I could follow her up to her studio and sit in the corner while she takes pictures of whoever hired her for the day.
Back at her apartment, I'd watched her dress. She knew my eyes were glued to her the entire time but she didn't miss a beat. She pulled her hair into a ponytail, applied some mascara and lipstick and dressed in a modest, light blue dress that was anything but simple on her.
She was stunning, so fucking stunning that I wanted to stand in the doorway of her place and block her from leaving. I never wanted to walk out of there. My body ached to have her again.
I told her I'd call her. The doubt she felt was written all over her face. She thought it was a one night deal. She seriously thought I could fuck her once and walk away. I don't know how a man could do that. I need another taste soon, and then another.
I cross the street as I walk towards my building. I have to change my clothes, pull myself together and somehow have a business lunch with my manager.
She called when I was at Falon's, demanding that we talk about the European dates I cancelled. I can't think business right now. I can't even think about my fucked up family. All I want to think abo
ut is Falon and when I can see her again.
***
"You don't get to decide those things, Asher." She taps her fingers over her phone's screen. "This isn't just about you."
"I'm Asher Foster," I say it just the way it sounds, laced with arrogance. "I decide when I perform."
She puts her phone down an audible thud. "We signed contracts. Those contracts have provisions if you don't show."
"I get that." I lean back, crossing my legs at the knee.
I didn't want to meet in this restaurant. I would have been happy to have this conversation in my apartment but Dita, my manager, insisted we meet in public. I know what that's about. It's not her love for the sea scallops at Axel NY. It's the handful of paparazzi that hang out across the street, waiting to snap the picture of anyone even remotely notable who walks in or out of this place.
Dita is the first to shove me in front of a camera if it means I'll get more coverage in the media. She lives and breathes by the notion that no publicity is bad publicity. She's a fucking fantastic manager, but we butt heads. I wouldn't trade her for anyone else at this point. The woman knows her stuff.
"You think that if we pay the fines for backing out that everything is great." She snatches her phone from the table before swiping her finger across the screen again. "You're going to get a reputation for being a flake. Is that what you want?"
A flake? What the fuck is her problem?
"I backed out of two dates for small venues in Europe, Dita. If we're going to be blunt they were test runs for the real deal. We all considered them dress rehearsals for the tour." I glance at the menu. "This isn't going to make or break my career. We'll reschedule. They'll still get their shows."
She huffs because she can't possibly argue the point. I'm right. I know it. I'll get our social media manager to release a twenty second clip of me playing my new, and still unreleased, song in the recording studio and that will shift everyone's focus from the postponed dates. It's simple.
"I want your family in Europe for the kick off of the world tour."
"No," I say firmly. "That's not going to happen."
"Why not?" She volleys back without even raising her gaze from her phone. "It's a great opportunity to showcase your family bond, Asher. We'll snap a few pictures after the show and they'll go viral. You know how your fans love the Foster family posts."
"My brothers are busy," I lie. "They don't have time to go to Paris for that. It's out of the question."
"I just emailed both of them." She waves her phone in the air, the brightly lit screen dancing in front of me. "Once they confirm, we're all set. Your folks already agreed to be there. I asked them both weeks ago."
I scratch the side of my head just as the server approaches us. "It's my decision whether they're there or not, Dita. You can't keep going behind my back to set up shit like this."
"What's your problem today?" She motions for the server to stay even though he's about to turn and walk the other way. "They're your family, Asher. Why the hell wouldn't you want them there?"
Even though it's a rhetorical question, I answer it. I don't care if she's ready to order her overpriced lunch. I'm the one paying for this fucking farce anyways. "I'm telling them not to come. That's final."
She laughs. "Whatever problem you have with them, fix it now. They want to be there, Asher. That night is as important to them as it is to you. They're your family."
CHAPTER 23
Falon
"Can you tilt your head to the left, Mr. Bishop?" I tilt mine as I study him from behind the camera.
He's a beautiful man. I knew that before he even walked into my studio, forty five minutes late. His face is synonymous with the largest hotel chain in the country. He runs the organization from his office on Fifth Avenue.
When I was contacted by the marketing department of Bishop Hotels to do headshots for all the executives I was excited. Not only did it mean more than fifty individual sessions, it meant my savings account would have an actual balance in it.
I took the job without question and I've spent the better part of the past two months, fitting in these headshot sessions whenever one of the Bishop Hotel executives were available. Julian Bishop, the CEO and owner of the company, is the last.
Once this is done, and I've delivered all the proofs, I'll get the remaining half of my fee.
"Is this what you want?" He arches a dark winged brow, flashing me a smile. "You're making me look better than everyone else in the organization, aren't you?"
I wouldn't have to do a thing to accomplish that. He's tall, his thick hair almost black, his irises a shade deeper blue than my own. His face is strong with high cheekbones and features that are striking. He's been dubbed the sexiest man of the year twice by a magazine that caters to women my age.
He's older than me though. I read his bio when I got the job. He's twenty-eight, the very same age as my brother Bobby. That's where their similarities end though. Julian grew up in a world of private schools and luxury, not lifting bags of flour and sweeping floors in a bakery in Brooklyn.
"That's perfect." I press the shutter on my camera, capturing the look in his eyes.
"Has someone talked to you about interior shots, Falon?" He brushes a piece of lint off the thigh of his navy blue suit trousers. "We have a few new properties and we're looking for someone with a fresh eye to take pictures."
"Interior pictures of the new hotels?" I ask for clarification.
"I take it no one has discussed this with you?" He shifts his position on the circular wooden stool I gave him to sit on before he glances down at his silver wrist watch. "We're looking for someone who can travel to Vegas, Atlanta and Miami. It's a big job but you're at the top of the recommendation list."
I need to thank whoever it was that put my name there. I haven't done a lot of corporate work like that, but what I have done was well received by my clients.
There was absolutely no hesitation on the part of the marketing department at Bishop Hotels when I quoted them a fee for the headshots. They wanted me and they were willing to pay my price. A job, as involved as the one he's telling me about, will require more equipment, an extra assistant and I'll have to devote a lot of time to it.
The pay will be ridiculous, and the shots I'll have for my portfolio will be a great investment in future potential work.
"Who should I talk to about it?" I walk towards him. "I'm going to change out the gray canvas for a lighter one. It will only take a minute."
He stands and turns as I pull on the canvas behind him, drawing it across a series of rods I had installed near the ceiling when I signed the lease. My landlord gave me carte blanche to do whatever I wanted with the space since it's too small to rent as an apartment and it's in a part of the city that doesn't cater to those looking for an office.
The room itself is triangular. I've cordoned off a section with a custom built temporary wall for clients who want to change their clothes mid-shoot. I have a small desk in the corner for my computer, a sitting area with two large leather chairs, and an area for make-up and hair. It may be odd shaped and useless to anyone else, but for me it works like a charm.
As long as I repair any holes, and repaint the walls a plain beige color when I vacate, I'm allowed to make it my own, in every way I can. I've slowly been doing that.
"Do you need help? I assumed you had an assistant." He reaches towards the edge of the lighter grey canvas, tugging it into place. "You know that I'm only yours for the next thirty minutes, right?"
I know his time is valuable. His assistant called to remind me of that twice before he got here. I wanted to snap back at her that he wasn't respecting my time by showing up late, but he's the one signing my check. The money is too good for me to be anything but cordial and accommodating.
I could have sped up this process by having Remy here but she's at a shoe store taking images of the inventory that just arrived. It's for a client I've had since I first opened my own studio and when I asked her if Remy could s
tep in for me today, she was fine with it. Being double booked is stressful but we made it work.
"That's plenty of time. My assistant is at another shoot right now." I motion for him to sit back on the stool. "Can you turn your body more towards me and dip your chin?"
He follows my instructions to a tee. "I'll arrange for you to meet with the hotel marketing team so you can do some test shots at our Tribeca location. If I like those, we'll talk about you taking on the job."
I try to hide my smile behind the camera. "That sounds great."
***
Asher's standing in the doorway of my studio as I turn around. I'd propped the door open after Julian left hoping it would help cool the space down. The air conditioning stopped working again. It happens at least twice a week and after a call to the super, it's usually fixed within a couple of hours. Since I only called him three minutes ago, I have, what feels like an eternity, to wait until it cools back down.
"I brought you white roses."
I smile at the sight of the two, wilting roses in his hand. "They're lovely?"
He laughs. "This is all the flower store around the corner had left. I ordered more in. They'll be here tomorrow."
I don't have to think twice before I lessen the distance between us and gather his t-shirt in my hands. I kiss him on the mouth, fully, softly, my tongue fluttering against his. "Thank you for the two dying roses, David."
I feel his grin against my lips. "Every time you call me that, I like it more and more. I don't know why, but I do."
I pull back to look up and into his face. He still hasn't shaved. There are fine lines around his eyes. He looks tired but since I'm to blame for that, I don't mention it. I'd keep him awake every night if I could feel pleasure like that. "I like it when you show up here like this. It's a nice surprise."
Torn Page 9
