Chapter 17 #3
“Not bad, Rock Star. You’re a fast learner.”
“Oh, you have no idea, baby,” I said at the same time I pulled her into me and moved us both to the sound of Womack and Womack’s, ‘Teardrops.’
I kissed along the curve of her neck and whispered into her ear, “Come home with me?”
“No,” she replied.
I kept us moving while trying to think of what I could say or do to get her back to my place. It wasn’t just the fact that I really wanted to fuck her, even though she was the reason for the painful hard-on I’d had for most of the night. It was because I just didn’t want the night to end.
What the fuck was happening. I sounded like a big fucking girl.
I looked over Ashley’s shoulder and around for my brothers, or Maca.
I spotted them all together, but it looked like George and Maca were arguing.
He stormed off, grabbed one of the women that was all over him earlier and started dancing with her.
“What’s the matter? You lost interest coz I’ve knocked you back?” Ashley asked.
“No, baby. I’m just watching my sister and best mate argue.” She turned her head in the direction I was looking.
“Shit, George will kill her,” she stated as we watched the woman put her hands all over Maca, before going in for a kiss.
“Looks like she’s about to,” I said.
We watched as Georgia grabbed the woman by the hair.
“Oi, you’re taking the piss now, love,” Georgia shouted at the woman. I was surprised when she gave up without a fight. She called something out over her shoulder, but my sister and Maca seemed to be oblivious to it as they stared at each other like the pair of weirdo’s that they were.
Gloria Estefan’s, ‘I don’t wanna lose you’ started to play and Maca and G started to dance.
“Looks like they made up and no blood was spilt,” Ashley said.
I looked down into her blue-brown eyes. I slid my palms over her hips and up to her armpits, back down and over her arse.
“Come home with me, Ashley. Not to fuck … well, not unless you force me, but just to talk.” She gave me the sweetest smile, kissed my cheek and said into my ear, “Get me drunk, Rock Star, and I might think about it.”
Two hours later, I was holding her hair back as she threw up in my toilet.
I’d got her drunk, all right. So drunk, in fact, that I had to carry her from the club, out the emergency exit, and into the car that Dave, one of our drivers, was waiting outside for us in.
About halfway home, Ash threw up all over me, herself, and the car.
Dave helped me get her up to my place, but I made him leave before I stripped her out of the little silver dress she was wearing. I grabbed a T-shirt of mine and pulled it over her head as quickly as I’d pulled her dress off … almost.
What? She was braless and only wearing a black thong underneath. I’m a bloke, for fuck’s sake. Of course I had a little look … twice … or twelve times, but who’s counting?
Once the T-shirt was in place, I’d taken off her thong, purely because as good as it looked, that thing had to be fucking uncomfortable. I pulled a pair of my boxers up her legs and managed to get them in place without copping an eyeful once, despite how hard I’d tried.
I laid her on my bathroom floor with her head resting on a towel while I stripped out of my clothes and jumped into the shower. I dried myself quickly when I got out and pulled on a T and boxers myself.
I was just done with loading all our clothes into the washing machine and turning it on when I heard her heaving. By the time I got back to my bathroom, she’d thrown up all over herself and my bathroom floor.
I ran my hand over my head and then over the stubble that was forming on my chin.
“What the fuck am I gonna do now?” I said to myself out loud.
I didn’t want to be in this position. I had an unconscious girl in my home and I’d already stripped her clothes off once, and now I was gonna have to do it again, but this time I was gonna have to shower her too, as it was in her hair and every fucking where.
I paced for a few seconds, then decided to call Jim. It might be four thirty in the morning, but I’d rather listen to Jimmie complain that I’d woken her than be accused of something I hadn’t done … again.
I got the phone off my bedside table and dialled their number while stepping back inside the bathroom. I folded a clean towel and put it under her head, wedging the phone between my ear and my shoulder as it rang.
I had this overwhelming feeling of panic creeping up my spine.
I wasn’t sure if I was worried about being accused of something, or if it was the fact that I wanted to look after her.
No, fuck that, I didn’t want to, I needed to; me, Marley Layton.
I’d lived my life following the two F rule.
I fucked ‘em and forgot ‘em, and as much as I wanted very much to fuck Ashley, the fact that I needed to make sure she was okay was overriding any horny thoughts I was having.
Len answered on the fifth ring with, “This better be a fucking emergency.”
“Len, its Marls.”
“Oh fuck, what’ve you done?”
“Fuck you, arsehole. I haven’t done anything.”
“What the fuck d’ya want then? The birds are fucking singing here and I’ve only just got to bed.”
“I’ve got Ashley here at my place.”
I heard him exhale, or inhale, I wasn’t sure which, but it went on for an exaggerated length of time.
“Marls, I swear to God, if you’ve upset that girl, George, Jim, and Mother will have your balls.”
“Mother? What the fuck has she got to do with anything?”
“Ash works for her and Georgia.”
Well fuck, she hadn’t mentioned that.
“I haven’t upset her. She’s out cold on my bathroom floor right now, covered in her own spew.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Len uttered his favourite response to most things I told him. I could hear Jimmie asking who it was in the background.
“Len, put Jim on. I need to talk to her.” The anxiety that was snaking its way up my spine was starting to bubble in my chest and I paced as I heard Len pass the phone over to Jim.
“Please don’t fuck my friend, Marls. She’s had a tough enough life as it is, she doesn’t need you doing your usual fuck and run and breaking her heart.”
“Jim, she’s been sick and it’s everywhere. I don’t know what to do. What if she wakes up and she thinks I touched her? They won’t believe me again, Jim. I’m not a rapist, but the papers won’t care, they’ll write shit about me again.”
I felt like I’d been hit with a ton of bricks.
The panic, hurt, and anger I’d felt at the comments made in the press and by others in our industry when Haley White made her accusations came clawing their way to the surface.
I’d shrugged it all off at the time, had another drink, snorted another line, but it hurt.
It fucking hurt and I didn’t want to feel like that again, not ever.
“Marley, calm down, babe—”
“I’m not a fucking rapist, Jim. She spewed up over her party frock so I took it off her and put it in the machine.
I put her in one of my T-shirts and a pair of boxers, but she’s done it again and it’s all in her hair this time.
It’s fucking everywhere, but I never touched her, Jim. I swear I never touched her.”
I was crying like a fucking princess.
What the fuck was that all about?
“Marls, listen to me. You’re not a rapist, and no one thinks that. She doesn’t think that. Now calm the fuck down.”
I took a few deep breaths. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. I could actually feel my balls and dick shrivelling and being replaced with a vagina over my breakdown.
“I love you, Marley Layton. You’re a good person, and don’t you ever forget that. Now, go run a shower, get Ash in it and wash the puke out of my friend’s hair. If you have to take her top off, try and do it in a non-pervi way.”
“Jim, she’s out fucking cold—dead to the world. I might like things a bit kinky, but I’m not into fucking girls who are passed out, I can assure you.”
“That’s good to hear, Marls. Now, go turn on the shower. I’ll stay on the line in case she wakes up and freaks out.”
After putting the phone down on the side of the sink, I turned on the shower and lifted Ashley up and sat her down again in the corner to let the water run over her.
She tilted her face up into it and mumbled a few things that I couldn’t understand.
Leaving the boxers on, I pulled the T-shirt over her head and washed her hair, her arms, and her legs.
Her tits were staring me in the face. My arm and even my hand brushed against them a couple of times.
I had a hard-on the whole time and felt like the worst person on earth.
She was fucking gorgeous. Even in this sorry state of hers, she did things to me.
I wrapped her in the biggest towel I could find and carried her out to my bed and laid her down.
“She’s clean. She woke up a bit, but wasn’t making any sense.” I told Jimmie when I got back on the phone.
“Okay, well done. Put her in another one of your T-shirts. Give her hair a comb and tie it back if you can find an elastic band, and keep her lying on her side. She’s gonna be mortified in the morning so go easy on her, Marls.
She puts on a big brave front, but she’s soft as shit and has a heart of gold under that mouthy bird she makes out to be. ”
“Jim?” I whispered quietly.
“What Marls?”
“I like her. I mean, like … I really like her.”
My mouth felt as dry as a nuns mildred as I tried to get the words out. (Sorry God, nuns, and all you religious types, but you get what I’m saying here, right?)
“I know, Marls. I knew it as soon as I saw the way you looked at her in the club. Don’t fuck this up. Now go sort her out and get some sleep. Love ya.” She hung up before I said any more.
I went and found a comb and combed her long blonde hair as best I could, then dressed her once again in a T-shirt and boxers of mine.
I laid her on her side, facing me, and watched her sleep as my thoughts raced, my stomach churned, and my heart? My heart did not have a clue what had just hit it.
The little blonde thing had gotten to me. I’d looked after her, washed and dried her, made sure she was safe, and I wanted nothing more in return, other than to get to spend more time with her.
And that scared the shit outta me.