Torn

by Deborah Bladon

  I cup my hands over his, savouring the way it feels to be this close to him. "I do love it here. I think about moving to London sometimes though."

  "London?" He runs his cheek over my hair, his lips settling next to my ear. "What's in London?"

  I have to stop and think before I answer. "Freedom."

  "Freedom?" He tugs on my waist to turn me so I'm facing him. "Freedom from what?"

  I don't look up at him. I can't. I've never admitted this to anyone before, not even Maya. She's suspected. I haven't confirmed it to her, or maybe even to myself, because it borders on abandonment in my eyes, and in my heart. "My family."

  He sucks in a short breath. "I think I might understand. There was a time, not that long ago, when all I wanted was freedom from my family."

  "You don't want that now?" I look up at him even though I know I might see disappointment or judgement in his eyes.

  "All I want now is to belong to them, all of them."

  ***

  I don't press for more. I want to. I can tell by the way he releases me and takes a step back that he's trying to shield himself from whatever he's feeling. I don't know any of his family, although he was right earlier, when he joked that I might have been at a Nar-Anon meeting with his brother. I was. It wasn't the brother he mentioned though. I saw Caleb Foster at three meetings when I was in college. I didn't realize it until the other day when I was searching for Asher facts online and saw a picture of him with his two brothers.

  Only a few people from the meetings have rooted up residence in my memory the way Caleb has. When he spoke in one meeting about his younger brother's addiction he cycled from bitter anger to inconsolable sadness. He was scared of losing him. It struck such a deep and resounding chord in me because I saw myself in him. I was terrified of one day waking up to the reality that Shirley had overdosed. I still feel a pang of anxiety each time I see her and she has that faraway look in her eyes.

  "How long have you lived here?" I ask the question solely as a means to break the thick tension in the room.

  He scrubs his hand over the back of his neck. The motion pulls the blue t-shirt he's wearing taut across his muscular chest. "I guess it's been about six years now. I'm not here a lot anymore, but I like it. I feel comfortable here."

  My eyes drift from his face to the room we're standing in. It's an open concept living and dining room. It's not overly large, but there's more than enough space to entertain a large group of people at one time.

  It's decorated just as I suspected it would be, in deep earthy tones, with expensive art hung on the walls. Anyone entering it would know that someone with wealth lives here.

  "It's a nice apartment," I offer, unsure of what else I can say. It's beautiful, especially the view. If I lived here, I'd stand by this window for hours each day with my camera in hand, capturing the vibrancy of the city.

  "It's a place I can call home." He reaches his hand out to me. "Let me give you a tour. I want to show you my bedroom."

  I dip my chin towards the floor in an effort to hide my uncontrollable smile. "Lead the way."

  ***

  "You're so beautiful, Falon." His eyes rake over my almost nude body. "Every time I see you like this, the earth stops for a minute or two. That's what it feels like."

  I know that I blush from his words. I can feel the rush of heat on my cheeks. I've never been with anyone who was as complimentary as Asher is. I've had men tell me that they like my body, but with him it's different. I can feel it in his words. I see it in the way he stares at me, not with lust in his eyes, although that's there. It's softer than that though. It's need.

  "You make me feel beautiful, Asher."

  He cups his hand over my cheek as he leans down to kiss me. His lips are soft, warm and needy. He pushes them into mine with force. It's tender but there's blatant desire there too. I circle his waist with my hands, running the tips of my fingers over his bare flesh.

  I can feel the heaviness of his erection as it presses against me. I've only taken him between my lips once. It was in my shower the morning after we first made love. I didn’t have the time I wanted to tease him and tempt him. I didn't get to explore every thick vein and ridge of his cock the way I wanted to. I pull back now, determined to drop to my knees on the floor of his bedroom so I can show him how much I crave the taste of him again.

  "No." He shakes his head as his lips rest against mine. "I need to be inside of you. I want your mouth on me so much, but first, let me fuck you."

  I grab his hands and inch back on my feet towards the bed. When I first followed him into the room it actually caught my breath. The bed is king size, the other furnishings sparse and the lighting is muted. There are three guitars on stands lined up in a corner. It's what I would have expected except for the views. In this room, there are floor to ceilings windows that seem to reach out into Manhattan. I can see the Empire State Building, its tower awash in white light, less than four blocks away. It's large, commanding and a brilliant beacon. He can see it all when he's in bed, staring out at the city.

  He lowers me gently to the bed, his knee between my legs as he kisses me again. This time it's more eager, his tongue like velvet as it strokes against mine. I arch my back, wanting him to tug off my panties. He'd left them on when he undressed me, after I helped him strip off his clothes. I'd giggled when I realized he wasn't wearing any underwear. He laughed and shrugged his shoulders, muttering something about needing to do laundry.

  When he pulls away from the kiss, I moan. I know he hears it, the smile on his face tells me he does.

  "I just want a little taste first, Falon." He nods towards my panties. "I think about it all the time."

  I don't stop him as he kisses a gentle path down my body, stopping to circle his tongue over one nipple and then the other. I squirm under the touch, the sensitive points hardening to an ache when he blows on them.

  "My panties, Asher," I gasp as his tongue dives into my belly button. "Take them off."

  "Not yet," he growls as his hand snakes under my ass to grab the flesh. "I want to taste you through the lace first. I want to know what that's like."

  "It's torture," I mutter under my breath. It is. His tongue is a wonder unto itself. He's eaten me before, his mouth kissing my sensitive folds the same way he does my mouth. It's with patience and pleasure. He took his time, savoring my pussy the way a man might a delicious meal, without any rush or sense of time.

  I came more than once that first night when his tongue was stripping away every ounce of resistance I might have had. He's made me crave it again now and even though I know he's close to giving me what I want, it feels so far away; too far away.

  I buck my hips hoping that he'll sense my impatience. He does. He chuckles as he rests his lips against the lace of my panties. "I can smell you, Falon. I can smell your sweetness. You're my addiction now."

  I almost scream aloud as I tug on the strands of his hair that I've wrapped my fingers around. "Please, Asher. I want to come."

  "I'll make you come." He lashes his tongue over the lace. "I'll make you come again and again."

  I squirm beneath him even though he's now got me pinned to the bed. His strong shoulder has my thigh pressed to the soft blanket, exposing me.

  He curves his index finger under the lace, the very tip of it running over my cleft.

  I close my eyes, breathless, as I finally feel his tongue touch my swollen clit.

  CHAPTER 30

  Asher

  I cup my hands over my nose and mouth, breathing in the scent. It's her. It's the smell of Falon's arousal. I ate her for so long that she quivered in my arms when I finally stopped, her voice no more than a whisper when she told me she needed a minute. That minute turned into an hour and now two. She fell asleep with her head resting on my bicep, her legs entangled with mine.

  I was hard, so fucking hard, that I was tempted to fist my cock until I came while she slept beside me but watching her sleep and listening to her breathe was enough to take th
e edge off. I know I'll have her when she wakes up.

  When she rolled onto her back and away from me, I felt deprived at the loss of her touch. I've seldom spent an entire night with a woman since I've been sober. It's not because I don't allow women in my bed, or I hate sharing the covers, it's just not who I am.

  I crave solitude. I need it to write and to create. The difference now is that I'm at the dining room table, a notepad open in front of me while I jot down lyrics for a song about Falon. I have to express it this way. This is how I feel. I put it in lyrics and set it to music.

  "You weren't next to me when I woke up." Her voice is low and throaty.

  I turn towards the bedroom to see her standing in the doorway, a sheet wrapped around her body. I can barely make out her features in the dim light. I don't need to. I memorized every inch of her face when she asleep.

  "I'm writing." I tap the seat of the chair next to me. "Come and sit with me."

  "You could come back to bed," she coaxes. "We can finish what we started."

  My cock hardens at the palpable need in her voice. I love that she can't get enough of me either. "We will. You'll sit with me first and then I'll fuck you on this table."

  "On the table," she repeats quietly as she walks toward me before lowering herself, and the sheet that's covering her into the chair.

  "I'm writing a song." I tap the point of the pencil against the paper. "I write best at night."

  She bites her bottom lip as her eyes drop from my face to the paper. She edges forward on the chair, twisting her neck slightly. She's trying to read the words I've jotted down.

  They're fragmented thoughts that aren't fleshed out yet. They wouldn’t mean a thing to her so I spin the paper around so she can read it.

  She arches her brow. "May I?"

  "Be my guest." I drop the pencil and lean back on the chair, crossing my arms over my bare chest. I'd put on a pair of dark sweatpants after I left the bed, but I didn't bother with a shirt. The air conditioning is on high, but it's still warm in here. Besides, I like the way she studies my tattoos when I'm shirtless. I'm waiting for the day when she asks me what they mean.

  "Do you usually write the lyrics or the melody first?" She pulls a hand through her hair. It does nothing to calm it. I'm glad. I love it like this. It's as wild and uninhibited as she is when she's in bed with me.

  No one has ever asked me that. I stop to think. "It depends on the song. Sometimes a melody gets stuck in my head. It feels like it runs on repeat until I get it out. I'll play it on my guitar or my piano first. I usually record it on my phone so it doesn't slip away."

  "Other times it's the lyrics?" She touches the edge of the notepad before she tugs the white sheet tighter around her breasts. "Are these the lyrics to the melody you played for me in your studio?"

  I lean my elbows on the table. "They're not. I haven't found the right lyrics for that melody and these lyrics don't have a melody yet."

  "Why don't you combine them?" She steeples her fingers before she weaves them together. "I just helped you write a song."

  I look at her. Her brows are perched, her eyes open wide. I cover the notepad with my hand as I laugh. "That's not how it works. This song is special. I need just the right melody."

  "The one I heard at the studio isn't the right one?"

  I shake my head. "When I find the right lyrics for that, I'll know."

  She leans her chin on her hand as her elbow rests against the table. She studies me, her gaze floating over my entire face. "This will be a hit song, won't it?"

  "It doesn't matter if this song is a hit or the one I'm working on at the studio, because every song I'm writing is for you."

  She swallows hard, her hand reaching out to touch my cheek. "You sure know how to take a girl's breath away."

  "You took mine when I first saw you." She did and I never want it back.

  ***

  "I can't believe the table didn't break." She walks back into the bedroom with a chilled bottle of water in her hand. "Where do you buy a table that can withstand that much force?"

  "Why?" I reach out to take the water from her so I a swallow a mouthful. "If you want to be fucked on a table, Falon, I'm your man."

  She crosses her arms over her bare breasts. "I'd say you're the Master, but that's not my scene."

  I motion for her to get into the bed next to me. I fucked her so hard that I'm actually exhausted. She crawled onto the table when I went into the bedroom to get a condom. By the time I came back she was naked on her back, her pussy glistening wet.

  I put on the condom, pulled her legs over my forearms and fucked her hard and fast. I had more stamina than even I expected and when I finally did come, it was brutal, the force too much. I cursed through the entire thing, yelling her name, my hands clawing at her hips.

  I fell onto her and she soothed me with her fingers on my back and whispered words in my ear. I would have stayed in that position all night but she was thirsty and with a push on my arm, she slid out from underneath me.

  When I walked into the kitchen to check on her, she was leaning against the counter, her head bowed in deep thought, her face buried in her hands. I didn't want to disturb her. I turned on my heel and went back into my bedroom.

  "What time do you have to be at your studio today?" I wrap her into my arms, pulling her against my chest. Her nipples instantly furl into hard pebbles. My cock stirs.

  She moves slightly. "You're getting hard again, Asher. I want to be on top this time."

  I seal my mouth over hers for a deep kiss before I pull back. "I can barely move, Falon. You'll have to be on top and you'll need to do all the work."

  "I'm up for the challenge." She dips her chin. "Apparently you are too."

  My dick brushes against her hip. "Give me a minute to catch my breath before you ride me. I might need two minutes."

  "I can give you that." She rests her head against my chest. "I need to leave soon though. I want to go home and shower. I have an early shoot today."

  I have no sense of what time it is. I'm surprised that she does. She must have checked her phone in the other room before she came to bed. "What time is the shoot?"

  "I want to be there by nine." She taps her fingers one at a time on my bicep. "I'm doing some shots of the Bishop Hotel in Tribeca."

  "You got a job shooting that hotel?" I shift slightly, my cock finally settling down even though her body is pressed snugly against mine. "That's a pretty big deal."

  She kisses my chest softly. "Today is just some test shots. I don't have the job yet. I want it though. If I get it, I'll be traveling all over the country shooting their new hotels. It would be a huge job for me. It could change my career."

  I dig my hands into her flesh, tugging her even closer. I'm happy for her. I want her to have everything life has to offer. She deserves all of that and more. I just know, in my own fucked up, selfish mind, that when this runs its course and she leaves to pursue her dreams, that I'll have to face my life head-on.

  She's not a distraction anymore. It may have started that way but it's shifted to something more and the thought of watching her walk out of my life scares the fuck out of me.

  CHAPTER 31

  Falon

  "You've actually met Julian Bishop?"

  I'm beginning to seriously wonder if Maya should be my assistant, instead of Remy. Maya called me early this morning to see if I wanted to do lunch today. We don't get together as often as we used to what with each of us dedicating so much time to our careers. She's also busy with Jason and if I'm being honest, it's been incredible to spend as much time as I have with Asher.

  This morning after he fell asleep, I tried to rouse him so I could say goodbye but he was out cold. Instead, I grabbed his notepad from the dining room table, wrote him a quick goodbye letter and then I slipped out. I went home, showered, dressed in a conservative white sundress and pinned my hair up before I double checked the batteries for my camera.

  "I took his photograph in my studio." I
pull on the handle of my camera case. Technically it's a black, fabric suitcase with fucked up wheels. I added some padding inside to hold my camera, lenses and a few clamps. It's not ideal, but it does its job right now.

  Maya heaves the canvas case with my lights over her shoulder, pulling on the strap. "Is he going to be there today? I swear I'll ring your neck if he is. I didn't dress up for this."

  I stop mid-step to turn to look at her. It's not even nine yet and she's got on full make-up and an adorable light blue dress. When I told her Remy bailed on me yet again, she offered to help me with the shoot. It's not the first time she's come to my rescue. I know it won't be the last either.

  "You look fantastic, Maya. You look better than me which an assistant is never supposed to do."

  She laughs. "I have a meeting this afternoon, Fal. I'm dressed for that. If I knew there was a chance I'd meet Julian Bishop today, I'd have worn something that he'd drool over."

  She's more drool worthy than she realizes. "He'll drool if he's there. I don't know a man who wouldn't."

  "Asher Foster wouldn't."

  That stops me again. I move to the right to make room for a man walking three dogs. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  She sets the case of lights on the sidewalk. "I saw a picture online of you kissing him. Holy shit, Falon. I know you said he was interested, but that looked like a prelude to a fuck kind of kiss to me."

  "We have," I admit through a shy smile. "More than once. A lot, actually."

  "You slept with Asher Foster?" she crows, causing more than a few people to look our way.

  I press my finger to my lips. "Technically we did that too. I stayed at his apartment last night."

  "You slept in his bed?" Her eyes widen. "You fucked him last night then?"