“Come!” I roared out, shoving my thick, fat, long cock deep into her wet hole, filling her completely. “Come on my cock!”
She did as she was told, good girl, screaming and shuddering, her pussy clenching and milking my cock as she came long and hard.
“Yeah, like that.” I fisted my hand in her hair and gave her a tug, letting her know who was riding her, who was fucking her. I was her man and I was giving it to her hard. I didn’t let her rest after her orgasm. I didn’t give her a second to catch her breath. I was a relentless man and I had needs. Just then, I needed to feel her come again.
“How’s that feel, my cock in you, bare? You like that?” I started fucking her hard and fast, wet and getting sweaty, my balls slapping against her clit as I pounded into her.
“Ugh! Uh!” Her guttural grunts were all I got in response. Her hands and ankles tied together, she couldn’t grab at me or kiss me. I towered over her, fucking her relentlessly, and she took it, every inch.
I’d never felt anything so good. If someone had asked me my name right then, I wouldn’t have known it. All I knew was Ana, her scent, her sounds, the way she fit me so perfect, the way I could feel the tension building, mounting, rising within me. How it would feel to let go, spill my seed deep inside of her, filling her up the way I’d wanted to do from the second I’d met her.
“I’m going to come in you!” I roared, pulling on her hair, grasping her hip hard with my fingers. I knew I was being rough with her, but she needed to feel it, how much I owned her, how much I possessed her. How much she belonged to me. How she always would.
“Are you going to take my come?”
“Yes! Yes!” she screamed, begging for my come deep inside of her. I came in one long, strong thrust, gushing hot come so deep inside of her it felt like my world came apart. Her screams mingled with my roars and I felt her come again, her shudders and slick juices blending with my pulses as my come shot out again and again.
“Ah! Fuck!” I couldn’t stand up any more, my knees buckled and I braced myself on the bed, folding over her, my chest to hers. I wanted her like that, like a cave man, I wanted to stand over her and hold her to me naked in our snowed-in shelter.
Somehow, I found the coherence to reach down and untie her restraints. First one side, then the other, then I drew her to me tight, bringing us both up to the top of the bed. We sank down onto the pillows, not even bothering with covers. We were too heated up, anyway, slick with sweat and our own fluids, panting and completely spent.
I think Ana might have fallen asleep before her head touched the pillow. I’d heard that expression before, but never seen it in action. She pretty much passed out, but I will say that she had an extremely satisfied smile on her face. I’d fucked my woman good.
I drew her to me, scooping her softness against my hardness, my eyes closing as well. Because she was asleep, I could whisper my confession to her. Something I didn’t think I’d said once in my adult life. Seemed like a good place to start, with the other party fast asleep. She couldn’t hear me. So, lying in the darkness, the snowstorm raging outside, I could tell her.
“I love you,” I whispered into her hair just before I joined her in sound sleep.
§
The next day, I woke to Ana’s soft ass pressing into my thigh. Yeah, that was a good way to wake up. Lazy, I circled my arm around her waist, drawing her closer to me. She sighed in her sleep, and we dozed off again for who knows how long.
Later on, we both opened our eyes and had no idea what time it was. Ana’s stomach let out a loud growl.
“Sorry!” She burst out laughing, bringing her hands down to her stomach.
“No, I’m hungry too!” I felt bad. Here I was starving her, all in service to my lustful needs. I reached over and turned around the clock on the bedside table. Close to noon. What day was it again?
“Is it the third?” Ana asked. Clearly she was feeling the same disorientation.
I nuzzled into her neck. “I think so. You want pasta or eggs?”
She laughed again. I liked the sound of her laughter nearly as much as her desperate screams when she came. Nearly. “You know I could probably make us something. Maybe some pancakes. And bacon.”
“Bacon? Do you know how to cook bacon?” Just when I thought she couldn’t get any better.
Her laughter pealed out once again. “It’s not hard.”
“Yes, bacon. Man wants bacon.” She swatted me and sadly pulled away and into the bathroom. This was all so new for me. Somehow overnight I’d gone from the guy who kicked everyone out ASAP to the guy lying in bed smelling the pillow where his girl had just laid her head.
OK, now. Time to get a grip. I sat up and gave my head a shake. When she headed out of the bathroom, I headed in, pausing to put a regretful hand on her covered shoulder.
“What’s this? A robe?” Did she really have to bother with clothing? Seemed a shame.
“Naked cooking.” Ana shook her head no, making a face as if she were tasting something sour. “Bad idea. But…” She looked up at me, a teasing light in her eyes. “You can take it off of me after we eat.”
“Deal.” I’d settle for that. And spring wood at the mere suggestion of getting her naked again. I had it bad.
In the kitchen, Ana hummed and bustled about, her hair up in a messy bun, tendrils escaping around her shoulders. The robe parted nicely along her chest, giving me glimpses here and there of her generous curves and swells. I insisted on brewing coffee and scrambling eggs. A man liked to feel useful.
She used her magic wand to make us blueberry pancakes and bacon. She kept exclaiming with delight over her finds in the pantry and fridge.
“Organic heavy cream!” She’d pull something-or-other out and cluck over it. I guessed our caretaker had done a good job stocking up.
“I mean, who has fresh raspberries to make it through a snowstorm in January?”
“Nothing but the best for you, my dear. I promise you shall always have fresh raspberries in the middle of January storms.”
She smiled at me, shyly, then turned her attention to flipping pancakes. Sooner or later, we were going to have to talk about it. The fact that this was all supposed to end in a week.
But outside the snow still came swirling down. It looked lighter today and I could see some blue in the sky, but the wind blew strong, creating massive drifts. The entire landscape looked transformed, as if we were in an arctic ocean, a ship adrift amidst the snowy waves. We still had more of this, together, more time outside of time, where reality couldn’t touch us.
Because reality might bite. Out on a stage, in front of the cameras, I had all the swagger money could buy. Here with Ana, the thought of asking her how she felt about us, about me? I didn’t like to admit it, but it scared the shit out of me. This might all be a romp for her, a walk on the wild side and nothing more.
I couldn’t imagine how destroyed I’d feel if she wanted to end things. So, instead of worrying about that outcome, I devoted myself to seduction. A win/win. I’d get more of Ana. She’d get more orgasms. It was a match made in heaven.
We ate together on a loveseat in the den, looking out into the snowstorm that would not end.
“I hope everyone’s safe in all this.” She looked out into it with a worried frown on her lovely face.
“You are a much better person than I am.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I’m selfish. All I can think is I hope it never stops.”
“You don’t really mean that.” She shook her head, looking away.
“I do.” I set my plate on the floor and wrapped my arm around her, drawing her close. We sat like that, looking out into the storm, each of us lost in our private thoughts. But slowly I could feel whatever tension she’d been holding relax from her as she settled back against me.
“How do you feel today?” I asked, running my hand along her arm. I circled my fingers along her wrist, remembering how I’d bound her yesterday. “Are you sore?”
“I feel good, but, um, yeah, I am kind of sore.”
“You need a bath.” I stood up, cursing myself that I hadn’t thought of it sooner. I should have made sure she was all right last night even before she went to sleep, but we’d both passed out so completely.
“It’s nothing to worry about.” She blushed, looking awkward. She must be remembering all we’d done last night. What I’d done to her. What she’d let me do and loved.
“Come on.” I grasped her hand firmly in my own and helped her up. I didn’t want her sinking into anxiety or embarrassment over what we’d shared. She shouldn’t regret a second of it, and I’d do my best to keep her at ease. “I’d take you into the hot tub, but it’s still coming down out there. Let’s draw a bath in the tub.”
I had it filled quickly, warm steam rising from the surface. I eased the robe down off her shoulders and saw faint bruising on her hip from where I’d sunk my fingers into her last night. I was a bastard. I needed to make her feel better.
Stepping into the bath, I raised my hand to her and helped her in as well. It was a giant tub, more than big enough for the both of us. Resting against the back of the tub, I settled her between my legs and drew her back against my chest. She exhaled deeply, closing her eyes, sinking into the warmth. With a soft washcloth, I began caressing her limbs, working slowly, working any tension out of her, soothing every inch of her with my touch. I moved gently, wanting to make her feel cherished, cared for, adored.
“Tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.” Her words rose light like the steam around us.
“What?” I knew I sounded tense while she sounded playful. But what did she want me to tell her?
She repeated herself. “And I mean it, something you’ve never told anyone before.”
Huh. I rested my head back against the tub. I’d done lots of bad, stupid shit in my life. But that didn’t feel like what I wanted to talk about right now. It wasn’t that I wanted her to think I was perfect. Far from it. I wanted her to know me, really know me, like no one ever had before.
That was it. I cleared my throat. “So, you know why I became a musician?”
“No?” She sounded delighted by the question.
“Well, it’s because I sucked at absolutely everything else.” She laughed, assuming I was joking. “No, really,” I continued, remembering myself vividly back then as an awkward, skinny, un-athletic thirteen-year-old. “I was a train wreck.”
“Really?” She twisted around to look up at me, as if she half-expected me to break into a smile and tell her I was just kidding around. I had to be crazy to not do just that. I’d devoted a lot of energy to leaving those days behind me, way, way behind me. But with Ana I wanted to tell her everything, let her get to know the real me. Not the image, not everything that had been carefully cultivated. The me I tried desperately to hide. I’d been so worried when I’d first became famous about photos circulating, ones from middle school. So painfully awkward.
“At 13 I was almost this height, but I weighed about 50 pounds less.”
“No.”
“Yes. And we moved to England, after my parents divorced.”
“You lived with your grandmother?”
“Yes.” I couldn’t help it. I could feel my voice grow tense even as I wanted to talk with her about all of it.
“Why didn’t you live with your mom?”
I fell silent for a moment. I never talked about this shit. I mean never. I sort of didn’t know how to begin. So I just began. “When I was around 11 it came out that my dad had cheated on my mom right after she’d had my older brother, Colton. She found out he had a son from the affair, with some woman out in Montana. It wasn’t the first time my dad had cheated on her, but that was it. She was done. I didn’t know what was happening so much at the time, but she basically had a breakdown.”
What I remembered most was the silence, how quiet our house got. Where before it had always been filled with the noisy chatter and play of four kids plus mom and sometimes dad, after he moved out it was like all the lights and sound got turned down real low. She always had a migraine. We always had to whisper. She leaned on Colton the most.
“Anyway.” I pulled myself out of the pain, remembering I was supposed to be talking to Ana about it.
“You don’t have to tell me if it’s too painful.” She placed a comforting hand my wrist.
“No, I want to. So, my father left, my mother fell apart and the four of us were packed off to my grandmother’s in England. I was 12 when I got sent off to boarding school and I sucked at everything.”
“Not everything.” Ana shook her head.
“Yeah, everything. I couldn’t sit still in school. I could barely read.”
“You’re dyslexic,” she protested on my behalf.
“Yeah.” I laughed without humor. “That wasn’t so much something British schoolmasters cared about back then.”
“Well, I think they suck.”
I kissed her on the head, grateful for her indignation on my behalf. “I absolutely agree. But, back then, I sucked at school. I sucked at sports. I looked like a praying mantis.”
“Ash,” Ana chided me, thinking I was being too hard on myself.
“It’s true,” I insisted. “I hated everyone. Everyone hated me. And then I met Connor. He played bass and one day he invited me along to this storage shed at the back of campus where he had a couple of amps and a spare guitar.” I shook my head, remembering that day. It had felt as if, after a lifetime of being surrounded by people speaking a different language, I’d finally found the right words.
“And the rest is history,” Ana supplied for me.
“The rest is history.” I wrapped my arms around her tight.
“I’m so sorry you ever felt so worthless.” She circled her arms around mine and turned to kiss me on the shoulder. “You’re so amazing.”
I rested my head next to hers, at a loss for words. Until I decided that she owed me.
“OK, your turn.”
“What?” She looked up at me.
“Your turn to tell me something no one knows.”
“Hmmm.” She brought her hand to her chin. “OK. But it’s not really as dramatic as yours.”
“That’s all right.”
“It’s pretty nerdy.” She hesitated.
“I just explained to you that deep down I’m a huge nerd.”
“Well,” she began hesitantly. “When I was in high school, I used to lie to my parents.”
“That’s unacceptable,” I teased her, shaking my head.
“Ash.” She swatted my knee.
“No, I’m sorry,” I continued. “Everyone has their limit and that’s mine, lying to your parents. You just crossed it.”
“OK, shut up.”
“All right.” I happily agreed.
“So, Wednesday afternoons in high school I would tell them I was going to this literature club at school.”
“Yup, sounds believable.”
“I said we read Russian classics. Tolstoy, Lermontov, Dostoevsky.”
“But you weren’t really doing that, were you?” I had a feeling I might like this story. Naughty Anika.
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Are you blushing?” I twisted and leaned forward to look at her face. It was hard to tell in the warm water of the tub, but she looked flushed.
“Maybe,” she consented.
“I’m so intrigued. What did naughty teenage Anika do when she told her parents she was reading Russian literature? Smoking in the girls’ room?”
“No.”
“Trying on slutty clothes at your slutty girlfriend’s house? And sometimes, when it was just the two of you—”
“Sorry, Ash,” she cut me off. “No girl-on-girl action in this story.”
“Damn it.”
She laughed. I loved how her breasts jiggled when she did it. I felt my cock stir, so I shifted to the side. I wanted to hear her story.
“Don’t tell me you had a se
cret boyfriend who took you riding on his motorcycle?” I asked, not liking the idea one bit.
“No.”
“Good. I’d have to beat the crap out of him.”
“I was too scared of those kinds of guys.”
“Until you dated me and completely wrapped me around your little finger.” I picked her hand up out of the water and kissed her pinky. Then her palm. But, wait, I wanted to hear her story. “So what were you doing instead of literature club?”
“Right, so,” She shook her head, as if my kisses had distracted and clouded her thinking as well. I loved how easily we revved each other up, so quick to spark. “I told my parents I was reading great literary works from our Russian heritage. But really I’d sneak to the town library and go down to the basement and read romance novels.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I’d even wear a baseball cap when I snuck into the library so no one would know it was me.”
“Did that work?”
“No, I’m totally sure the librarians knew it was me. I was there every Wednesday and we had a town of a few thousand total. But it added to the clandestine drama.”
“I don’t know what clandestine means.”
“Secret. Hidden.”
“Right.”
“Oh, Ash, it’s such a gorgeous library. It’s the fourth oldest in the state of New York!” Man, I had fallen for such a nerd, and I loved it so much.
“Let me get this straight,” I said. “You lied that you were in a book club so you could go read books.”
“Yeah, but not good books. Trashy books.”
“You’re so naughty,” I whispered down into her ear. “Tell me about these kinds of books you liked.”
“I liked naughty kinds.” She laughed, sounding slightly nervous.
“Hmm. Now I like this story more.”
“I loved historical romances with pirates and warriors.”
“Shirtless pirates and warriors,” I confirmed, thinking of the classic dime store romance novels I’d seen growing up. I pictured that long-haired model on the cover. Was his name Fabio?
“Absolutely. You wouldn’t put a shirt on these men. It would be a crime.”
“I don’t wear shirts.” What, was I feeling jealous of romance novel heroes?
Undone: A Fake Fiancé Rockstar Romance Page 36
