CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE ASHTON
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
ASHTON
I took her to the private floor that Trace and I usually used when we were at Katya.
There was a small patio-like extension to the side, a bench that sat far back in the shadows.
I knew Trace used to sit and watch Jess when she worked.
She didn’t know, but it was private, and we could still be a part of the atmosphere below.
That’s where I took Molly tonight.
Trace and Jess went to their place, and when he or I were here, we were the only ones allowed on this floor. Elijah was at the door. A few guys were on the other side, my personal guards. Anthony came in, Katya’s main manager, and had a debrief with me quick, but now he was gone.
I was sipping my bourbon, and she was dancing on the end of the patio, overlooking the floor, lost in the music.
She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.
It sounded so fucking cheesy, and it wasn’t something I usually would think, but with Molly Easter, I found myself unable to think anything else.
God. What was I doing with her?
Even I didn’t know, but there was a pulse between us. It grew stronger each day we were together, each touch, each look, each word shared. It was a long tether, growing more powerful until I was so bound to her, if I cut it, it would be to both of our detriment.
Her mom.
My mom.
That was still a mess, something no one knew who was alive anymore. Just me. Now just her. Even Trace hadn’t a clue. I’d never told him. It was too hard, too painful, but I gave birth to it the second I told Molly the truth.
That burned me, deep down.
She hadn’t asked a question since. I didn’t think she thought about it, but maybe that was how she survived? Not thinking about who defined us growing up. Or not letting them define her?
Me. I was defined. I knew it.
I liked the shadows. I lived in the shadows. I excelled in the shadows.
My mom put me in the shadows, what she did, who she was.
Her drug addiction was just the tipping point.
Watching Molly now as she was dancing, seeing she was like sunshine right now—she was the opposite of me.
I was darkness. She was light, though she had darkness in her.
I knew it, felt it. Just like she did. It was another reason we connected.
She and I. We were the opposite, but also the same.
I was cruel. She was ... whatever she was.
She had a switch. Happiness. Half-crazy?
Now she was saying she was the in-between?
Jesus. She was. She could be.
She was exactly what I needed, and I never knew. But no, that wasn’t true.
I had known.
Fuck. All those years ago. I had known. One look at her in that hallway, knowing she shouldn’t have been there, and knowing what was happening—I knew it then. I needed her in a way that I should’ve needed the woman who just died.
The burning was too intense, trying to claw out of me.
Molly didn’t have a care in the world right now.
Everything was put away, shoved down in whatever drawer it was supposed to go.
And for now, her eyes were in a daze. Her body glistened from some sweat.
She never stopped. Her hands were in the air, twirling, creating a spell, and she turned, circling.
She could’ve been in a field, enjoying the feel of the sun on her.
It was the same movements, but more whimsical.
Beautiful. Stunning. Powerful.
She was mine.
I wasn’t letting her go.
She owned me, and god help anyone who tried to take her away from me.
As if sensing my thoughts, something she’d done before, she looked my way before she began coming to me. She was bringing her sunshine to me, lighting up my corner.
I sat back. Waiting.
She moved in, holding her drink.
I opened my legs wider, and she stood between them, looking down at me. Still moving to the music.
The look in her eyes, I didn’t think she wanted to talk, and knowing that pulse was still pulling, I leaned forward, running my hands up the backs of her legs.
She closed her eyes, feeling my touch while I was feeling her. Enjoying her.
She was magnificent.
The need to be deep inside was pounding in me, but I savored this moment, trailing my hands up her thighs, over her ass, pulling her even closer to me.
She came, her eyes still closed, her head now thrown back.
I moved my thumbs to the insides of her legs, finding her clit and gently pushing on it through her jeans.
Her body floated toward me. One of her legs lifted.
I caught it, my other hand running behind it, lifting it so she was half kneeling over me.
Her clit was so close to my mouth.
My mouth was fucking watering, like a goddamn waterfall. I wanted to taste her.
The music was still playing. The neon flashes of light behind her, below us, but we were in the complete dark.
No one else was as high up as we were. No one in another box could look down and see us.
There were no cameras positioned here. Trace and I talked about this place, wanting a corner we could go to be in the club but not a part of the club, to do whatever the fuck we wanted.
This was why. Right here, with just this woman, I was thankful for this corner.
Moving my hands to the sides of her hips, I tucked them over her pants’ waistband.
She stilled, and I unzipped them, pulling them down. Taking them off.
She looked down, her eyes now open, looking drunkenly at me. That was the lust since she’d barely touched her drink.
I settled farther back, tugging her over me so she was kneeling on the seat to the side of my legs. Smoothing my hands down her sides, to her ass, I pulled her even closer, hooking over her panty straps.
She swallowed, her throat moving, and she parted her lips. Her chest was rising, deep and slow. Carnal pleasure looking back down at me.
This woman. She drove me crazy, but she was mine. Just mine.
I moved my mouth, closing over her clit first and sucking.
She gasped, her body leaning into me even more.
I ran a hand down her ass, my thumb circling her before I leaned in better, a different angle and I was tasting her. My tongue moved inside of her as her body rested against my shoulder. I could hear her moans, the vibrations through her body.
I could die worshipping her body. Touching every inch. Tasting her curves.
I’d never get enough of her. That pull, it was unbearable but undeniable, and I couldn’t fight against it any longer. From hate to want, to need, and now something more. I didn’t know. I didn’t want to know—I just needed to have her.
I kept tasting her. Over and over again. Moving inside of her, licking, caressing until I felt her body rip apart in my mouth, her hands digging into my shoulders. Her head was resting against the back of the booth behind us, her entire body trembling.
I still took my time, enjoying this.
The buildup. The desire. The touch. The crescendo. Then the peak, the climax, and the aftereffects. How her nails were cutting into my skin, but I loved the pain. I needed my own release, but this, smoothing my hand back over her ass, her stomach, shoving her shirt until I could touch her nipple.
I could do this every day and night and return for seconds.
A goddamn heavenly dip.
When she could breathe steadily, her eyes peeled open, and she grinned down at me. A small but crooked grin. I reached up, tugging at her bottom lip. She drew me in, sucking me. After that, I held back, waiting to see what she would do.
She could go back to dancing. She could pull my pants down and suck me. She could do anything she wanted.
I just wanted to see what she was going to do, this woman I never intended to want.
A soft and playful grin teased at her mouth, and she ducked her head, as if shy, before she settled farther down on me. She’d done this in the bed, our first time, and I leaned back, my pulse skyrocketing to my dick as she skimmed a hand down my chest, moving to my belt buckle.
She moved her mouth to my ear, tugging open my belt buckle at the same time. “I like this.”
“Yeah?”
She undid my zipper, opening me and reaching in, finding my cock. She smoothed a hand over him, pulling him out, stroking.
I swallowed, my hands sliding to her hips before moving up, pushing her shirt with them.
She leaned back and took her shirt the rest of the way off. Her bra was next. I reached for her breasts, her nipples, and leaned in, taking one in my mouth.
She kept stroking my cock, squeezing, smoothing over me, cupping me too.
My teeth grazed over her nipple, went to the other, and I ran my tongue around her, suckling.
Her body trembled, and she was breathing heavy in my ear.
Even this, just tasting her, having her stroking me, I could do this for hours and relish it. Who the fuck was I becoming?
She moved her mouth back to my ear, panting, “I need you.”
I growled, her words my undoing, and grasped her hips, tugging her over me. I was at her entrance, a brief pause as we lined up, and then I yanked her down as I thrust up into her.
She gasped in my ear, her whole body plastered to me. She wound her arms around my waist, holding tight as she rode me while I was driving up into her. I was holding her hips down so hard, pounding up so I wasn’t sure who was riding each other more.
Up. Higher.
The need. The pleasure.
Lust.
I loved this.
Pleasure shot through me, and I couldn’t stop thrusting into her. It wasn’t enough. This angle, none of it. I moved us. Her back on the seat, and I moved into her from above, and now my body was plastered to her. Reaching over her, I grasped onto the seat’s handle and lifted, getting a deep angle.
It still wasn’t enough.
Christ.
She’d be the death of me, but I needed more.
I ran a hand to her back, to the arch, and then spread down, lifting her up, higher for me, and I sank in. I sank as low as I could, bottoming, and she was writhing underneath me.
There. Right there.
My strokes were lined up, perfection.
I could see every emotion on her face. Her mouth opened, a cry forming, but she was right there with me—and then her body convulsed, exploding. A sensual masterpiece. I wanted to record that, watch it over and over again, but then my own release was coming.
It hit me, shattering me, and I let out a guttural roar before holding still, waiting as the waves went through me.
Jesus.
Watching her watching me, I needed to taste her mouth again.