Ashlei
The inside of my thighs are tender and slightly bruised by the time I finish my pole session on Friday.
Getting back into dancing? Easy enough, just a little cardio training and getting my body to remember how it feels to move that way. Revisiting climbing the pole and head up tricks? Not too shabby, a little painful, but for the most part, I got this.
But once I got into training my leg hangs and thigh grips again, my body wanted to divorce me.
I’ve spent all afternoon upside down, working on my Extended Butterfly, my Scorpio, my leg switches and hip holds, and God help me, even my Superman. As much as it hurts to train like this, it also feels good, like I’m making progress and finding my passion again.
Besides, I need a break from my brain.
I haven’t stopped turning over what happened between me and Sophie since the Okay, Cool after-party.
It seems no matter how much I try to focus on work or school or sorority events or pole, that night keeps creeping up on me, and I find myself trying to dissect every word she said, every move she made, wondering if I made it up, or if she really was hitting on me.
And if she was… what the hell?
Was she bisexual? Was she just being a bitch, trying to fuck with my head since it’s clear that I’m onto her and the way she looks at Brandon?
Did I make it all up, and it’s me who’s the psycho?
I sigh, peeling my high heels and knee pads off and shoving them into my gym bag with more force than necessary, like it’s Sophie I’m shoving out of my life.
“Hey now,” Karen says, arching an eyebrow as she lowers down to the floor next to me. “It wasn’t that bad of a training session, was it?”
I offer her a smile. “I’m sorry. Just have a lot on my mind.”
“That explains why you asked for two hours of torture instead of just one today.” Karen pauses, watching me. “Ashlei, I know we talked about this a few months ago… but I really think you should consider competing again.”
I swallow, trying to remain calm when I meet Karen’s eyes. “I… I don’t think…”
Karen folds her soft fingers over my arm, gentle and calm. “I know what happened with Kitty Heels.”
I nearly pass out at the mention of the studio I left behind me, that I’ve tried to bury for years. In a flash, I see Leslie, Kya, Hayden, the drugs, the threats, the money, the club I tried to work at to save my ass, Jess coming to my rescue.
Another soft squeeze from Karen saves me from blacking out.
“Leslie has made a name for herself in this industry — and it’s not a good one.
Everyone knows the sketchy shit she pulls, and trust me when I say you were the best thing to happen for her and that studio.
I know she fucked you over… but don’t let her steal this passion from you. ”
My eyes gloss, and I don’t have a single word to say in response.
“You don’t have to make a decision now, okay?
” Karen says, standing and offering a hand down to help me up, too.
“Just think about it. If not competing, maybe you could at least perform. Trust me — if you got on a pole stage?” She shakes her head once I’m standing with her.
“You’d captivate the entire audience — me included. ”
I somehow manage a nod and a smile, and I thank her, grabbing my bag and leaving the studio with my mind whirling with even more thoughts than when I walked in. When I see Brandon’s car on the curb, relief sinks into me like sweet honey, and I smile.
“I like this tradition of you picking me up after class,” I say when I slide inside the passenger seat. I toss my bag in the back. “But I’m starting to think you might have a fetish for sweaty girls or something.”
“I only have a fetish for one sweaty girl,” he corrects, leaning over the console to give me a deep, passionate kiss. I’m breathless when he pulls back, and his golden eyes settle over me in appreciation. “I was thinking we could do dinner tonight.”
“I like that idea.”
“In Chicago.”
I balk. “Chicago?”
He nods on a grin. “There was a last-minute cancellation at one of the most famous restaurants in town, and the owner called me and asked if I wanted the table. It’s twenty-four courses of the finest cuisine you’ll ever have.
” He shrugs. “And then, I was thinking I could fuck you on the balcony of my favorite suite in the city.”
I lick my lips, crawling over the console enough to thread my fingers around the back of his neck and pull him into me for a kiss. “Are we flying commercial?”
“Come on now,” he chastises, nipping my bottom lip. “You know me better than that, Miss Daniels.”
I smirk. “Then you should know better than to think we’ll wait until after dinner to fuck if you’re taking me on your private jet again.” I pause, letting my hand drop to his belt buckle and drawing a soft line over the seam of his dress pants before whispering. “Mr. Church.”
A guttural groan rips from his throat, and then he breaks our kiss suddenly and swiftly, throwing the car in drive and speeding us across town to the airport.
***
I feel night and day better after an evening with Brandon.
Just like I suspected, we’d barely made it through takeoff before Brandon had me pinned against one of the leather couches on the private jet, and once we’d landed in Chicago, we’d spent all dinner staring at each other from across our intimately lit table, my heel tracing up and down his leg under the tablecloth, his eyes devouring me more than the meal.
By the time we get back to the suite downtown, I’m starving for his touch again. It seems I never can get enough.
I’ve never been to Chicago before, and I decide after just one day in the city that I love it.
The architecture is unlike anything I’ve ever seen, buildings stretching up high into the sky and lining the river, the lake, filling the city with lights.
But there are also dozens of parks and recreational areas, so while it’s a city, it’s somehow greener and fresher than Manhattan — at least, in my opinion.
I’m appreciating the view from our balcony and the crisp, cool air when Brandon joins me, wrapping his arms around me from behind. I rest my head back on his chest as he lets out a deep, content sigh.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he whispers in my ear.
I nod, letting my eyes trace over the city lights glittering like stars, the river reflecting their glare and making for the most picturesque backdrop.
“You know, it’s been almost a year since the first time you took me on that private jet,” I remark.
Brandon chuckles, kissing my cheek. “It has, hasn’t it? God, I wanted you so bad. I’m surprised I made it that long before touching you.”
“You were trying to do the right, moral thing and not fuck your intern.”
“Looks like I sold my soul to the devil, then.”
I turn in his arms, threading mine around his neck. The way the lights reflect in his eyes warm my chest, and I trace his dark features, falling even more for him every second that we’re together. “I’m so happy we found each other.”
He nods, knuckles brushing my jaw. “Me, too. I can’t believe you thought we weren’t exclusive all that time, until you asked me in the spring after we told everyone at the agency about us.”
“It’s hard,” I argue. “When you’re my age, everyone plays games.”
His eyes are darker when they meet mine again. “Do you know now that I don’t?”
I swallow, nodding, leaning into where his hand frames my face.
“And do you know that I love you?”
I close my eyes, fighting back the tears those words drew from me the moment he said them. It’s nearly impossible, though, for the joy that strangles me, the relief, the terror and otherworldly ecstasy that consume me at once.
“I do now,” I say, opening my eyes and looking into his. “And I love you, too.”
Brandon’s lips are on mine as soon as I finish speaking, and I breathe in the kiss, the man holding me, the night around us, the moment I’ll never forget.
I’m so lost in the way his hands feel on my waist, and the way his lips move in time with mine, that I barely register him lifting me into his arms and carrying me inside.
The windows that surround the suite are floor to ceiling, still showcasing the breathtaking city view as Brandon deftly turns out every light and guides me to the California king bed.
My knees hit the back of it once he sets me back down on the floor, and I press my hands into his chest, smiling against his kiss.
“I thought you said you wanted to fuck me on the balcony?”
I’m ready for him to give some smart ass comment in response, or to haul my ass back outside, but instead, he swallows, pressing his forehead to mine. “Not now,” he husks. “Now, I’m going to make love to you in this bed.”
My heart swells in my chest, my throat tight as I run my fingers back to hold his neck and draw him back to my lips. The kiss is gentle and sweet and unlike any other that I’ve had from this man, and I melt into it, resisting the urge to pinch myself to make sure this is all real.
He takes his time undressing me, peeling my little black dress over my head before reaching into my hair and slowly pulling out each bobby pin that holds it in place.
Next, he unclasps my bra, and helps me step out of my heels before slipping my panties down over my ass, my thighs, my ankles, leaving them on the floor.
Between kisses and touches and sighs and licks, he undresses himself, too — and then his arms wrap around me, guiding me down on top of the plush comforter of the bed, the down pillows giving way to the weight of my head.
I don’t realize I’m shaking until Brandon holds himself over me and my trembling fingers wrap around his thick, bulging biceps.
I hold onto them as an unsteady breath slips through my lips, and Brandon kisses me gently, spreading my legs wider with his.
Our bodies are hot where they touch — chest to chest, his arms surrounding me, and mine holding onto him, his thighs between mine, his shaft warm and hard where it slicks between my wet lips.
“Do you remember when I told you on my yacht that the only place I held any power over you was in the office?”
I nod, still holding onto him for dear life with my heart racing in my chest.
“Well, I’ve decided that’s now a lie.” He shakes his head, eyes flicking back and forth between mine. “In every possible way, in every place that exists, you are my everything. You hold the power, Ashlei, and I am yours — to bear or to break.”
Tears flood my eyes, and this time I don’t try to stop them. I have never felt anything in my life like I feel for this man, and I succumb to the feeling of him surrounding me — all of me — now and forever.
“I will never break you,” I whisper, reaching up to press my lips to his. He answers me with a passionate kiss in return, and then with a flex of his hips, he’s inside me.
I feel him all at once, all-encompassing, the bare length of him filling me up.
I gasp into his mouth, and his hands wrap around my shoulders, giving him a better grip to thrust inside me again.
Each time he withdraws and pummels in, his pelvis rubs my clit, and I spread my legs even wider, chasing the building fire ready to catch.
Brandon’s mouth roams all over me — my neck, my jaw, my chin and lips and ears and breasts. I feel him everywhere, and I run my nails down his back, kiss his skin in return, praying that he feels me just as much.
How can it be that this strong, powerful, successful man wants anything to do with me? How can it be that out of all the women falling at his feet, he chose me to stand by his side, to be his queen, to say the three words every woman wants to hear?
This time last year, I was fighting every urge that begged me to give into my lust for him, and now, he’s making love to me in a city halfway across the country, and everyone knows about us, and nobody dares to tell us we can’t have each other.
I could never break him, I realize, because we’re unbreakable.
As long as we’re together, we can’t be stopped.
Trembling and holding onto each other with slick, hot hands, Brandon makes love to me for hours in that bed.
And before we leave the next morning, he makes good on his promise to fuck me on the balcony, too.