Chapter 40 - Allie
ALLIE
I pinch the skin under my eyes, noting the dark circles still residing beneath them.
I feel like I’ve aged ten years in the last twenty-four hours.
Between my dad showing up and everything with Ashton, I’ve barely gotten a chance to sleep.
He ended up coming back last night after work.
We talked. A lot. About everything we had been holding back.
Everything we were afraid of. He admitted that he’d been in love with me for a while, and I told him I was pretty sure I had been too.
Then he kissed me stupid, but he wouldn’t go any further.
We eventually went to bed but continued to talk until his eyes turned glassy and finally fluttered closed.
Mine didn’t. There was still something that was gnawing at me.
Of all the choices that were made, my dad’s to leave, Ashton’s to keep the truth from me, there was one that had no honor behind it.
No benevolent intentions. I wasn’t going to let that choice go unnoticed.
I must have drifted off at some point because when I woke up, it was with a jolt.
I ripped the covers off of me, got dressed, and before Ashton could wake up, I was gone.
The guy at the front gate eyed me suspiciously, but when I told him I was there to see my grandparents, he held a phone up to his ear, nodded a few times, and then let me in.
I stormed into the elaborate estate like a bull charging red.
My grandparents were sitting in their dining room having a leisurely breakfast. I ignored Celeste’s gasps and my grandfather’s irritated frown.
I didn’t let them speak. They didn’t deserve it.
I simply told them in no uncertain terms that if either one of them ever contacted my mother or me again, I would file a restraining order and expose everything they did.
Then I turned on my heel and left. Maybe their actions warranted more punishment, but I didn’t have the energy for that kind of revenge.
I wanted them out of our lives, plain and simple.
They may have been the catalyst for many of the hardships in my life, but it doesn’t mean I can blame them for everything. We all made our choices.
Shaking the thoughts of them away, I brush some mascara over my top lashes and swipe a clear layer of gloss on my lips.
I remind myself that life has highs and lows, and mine is finally starting to trend upward.
I even got another call from Ashton’s dad.
It turns out my mom’s abusive ex was into some really shady shit and won’t be released any time soon.
When I told my mom she could still press charges, she dismissed the idea.
She’s not ready to tell her story publicly, and that’s okay.
In the meantime, the bastard is rotting in prison.
I finish with my gloss and apply some liquid blush to my cheeks.
I’m going understated for our first date tonight.
Just some light makeup, black cut-off denim shorts, and a light blue ruffle-layered tank top.
My hair is down, and when I’m done with my eye makeup, I put my glasses back on.
Not to hide anything, but because they’re part of who I am.
I slip on black wedges and am heading to the living room to wait for Ash when my phone vibrates with an incoming text.
Nick: Here’s his number if you ever want to reach out. I can give him yours too if that’s okay with you.
The text is followed by a contact for Colt Hawkins.
My half-brother.
I couldn’t bring myself to enter ‘Dad’ as his contact name.
We’re not quite there yet, but I did meet with him again today after the visit with my grandparents.
It was hard, but I wanted to hear about his life.
He told me that he met a woman and got married in between tours overseas.
She found out she was pregnant shortly after he left for his second deployment, and when he finally got word, he vowed this tour would be his last. He didn’t want to leave another child without a father.
My heart cracked at that admission. I was the collateral damage of the lesson he had to learn.
I reminded myself that it was an impossible decision.
He was being threatened, and he was young.
Younger than I am now. It doesn’t make it hurt less, but it helps soften some of the anger.
After he retired from the military, one of the songs he had written overseas was discovered, and he became a professional songwriter for—of all the genres in the world—country music artists.
He swore to me that he still listens to every single one of the bands plastered on that old guitar, which he insisted I keep.
It somehow managed to sustain only a small dent from when I dropped it.
Anyway, it only took my dad a few months of being back home for he and his wife to realize they were better suited as friends.
They had both used each other to heal, but when all was said and done, the passion just wasn’t there.
They had an amicable divorce and are still friends who co-parent their son together.
Colt, my sixteen-year-old half-brother. Because it couldn’t have been a sister.
No, it has to be another boy in my life who is no doubt going to annoy the ever-loving shit out of me.
Still, I want to meet him. Or at least speak to him.
I save his number on my phone and reply to my dad, giving him permission to pass mine along as well.
Growing up, I had always dreamed of having a sibling.
Someone who I knew would always be there.
I was lucky enough to have found that in Em and even Nate when I got older, but I won’t turn my nose up at the chance to have another one in my life.
A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts.
I open it to find Ashton looking like a male model, arm slung up on the door frame, muscles pressing against his gray button-down, denim-clad legs crossed at the ankles.
His hair is gelled, freckles on full display, and a hint of the dimple on his right cheek appears as his lips turn up into a full grin.
“You look—”
I smile back. “Thanks.”
“Damn, this is going to be hard,” he mutters.
“What is?”
“Not mauling you in the car on the way there.”
“No one is saying you can’t.” I stick my ass out as I sway to the passenger side of his BMW.
He rushes over to open my door. “Not until after our first date.”
“Sure,” I say, sarcasm lacing my tone as I enter the car.
Ashton refused to tell me where we’re going on our date, but when we don’t get on the highway, I assume it’s here in Emberfield and not in another town.
By the time we pull up to Olleto’s, my heart is in my throat.
On the one hand, I know this restaurant is special to him, but he has taken all his other dates here.
I know I’m more than just another date to him, so why would he take me here?
Then there’s the fact that Ashton thinks there’s some sort of love voodoo within these walls.
What if I don’t live up to the magic he’s expecting?
Sensing my hesitation, Ashton takes my hand. “I thought it made sense to take you here since I’ve taken all my other first dates here.”
My brows knit in confusion.
“You’re the last one,” he says, bringing my hand to his heart. “My last first date.”
The uncertainty in my belly melts into a thousand tiny butterflies that dance and sway inside me.
I bring my free hand behind his neck, pulling him close so I can press my lips to his, and the butterflies go wild.
“How do you want me?” he rasps, running his hands up the inside of my tank top. “Submissive? Bratty? A dominating alphahole?”
I roll my eyes. I never should have taught him that word. But, also, yes. That one. That’s what I want.
I don’t even have to say anything. Ashton can see it written all over my face. He spins me around, gently grasping my chin and turning my head to look straight ahead. “Get on the fucking bed, Allie.”
His words send an electric current straight to my throbbing pussy.
It’s been almost two weeks since I’ve had him, and I can’t wait another second.
I know this isn’t how first-date sex is supposed to go, but I don’t give a fuck.
We can say we want to start fresh and take it slow all we want, but the truth is we know each other.
We know our bodies, what turns us on, what makes us tick.
Ashton can read my sexual energy like a damn book, so why waste any more time?
Lost in my own thoughts, it takes me a second to respond. Ashton lets go of my chin and slaps my ass. “Did that sound like a request?”
Holy, shit.
I love playing these games with him. I walk over to his bed and bend in half, pressing my cheek to the mattress so my shorts ride up and my ass hangs out. He chuckles, deep and condescending.
Leaning over me so I can feel his hot breath against my ear, he rasps, “Did I say to bend over or did I say to get on the fucking bed?” Then, without warning, he flips me over, pops open the button of my jeans with his thumb, and yanks them down along with my underwear.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think the simping little puppy of a man I met at the bar that night would have such a dominant side, but I love it.
I love that he can play both roles. I love that he can be exactly what I need and that I can do the same for him.
I had a feeling this was the mood he would be in.
All throughout dinner, he teased me. It started off romantic and a little emotional, especially after his admission in the car.
Then the air shifted and crackled, and before I knew it, I was shoving food in my face so we could get through dinner and go back to his house.
It made me laugh to think that Theo ordered dessert to prolong his date, while I was doing everything in my power to cut ours short.
It didn’t help that Ashton put his foot up on my chair at one point and pressed between my legs with the toe of his boot. I might have shamelessly started grinding on it until he briskly pulled it back when the waiter came with our food.
And don’t get me started on the ride home. I nearly attacked him and would have, but we swerved and decided it was best that we both remain alive. Needless to say, I’m now desperate, willing to do whatever he says to get what I want.
Ashton tosses my shorts and panties aside and shoves my tank top up over my head.
I’m not wearing a bra because it doesn’t work with the tank top, so I’m now completely naked while Ash is fully clothed.
Bringing his palms to my thighs, he spreads my legs, positioning himself in between them.
Then he reaches down and pushes a finger into me, smirking when he feels how wet I am.
“Desperate little slut,” he chides. “Always ready for me, huh?”
“I’ve been ready since the fucking restaurant,” I rasp. “Just fuck me already.”
He removes his finger, and my whole body sags in frustration.
“You know that was the wrong thing to say, right?”
I pin him with a glare.
“If you act like a brat, I have to treat you like one,” he goes on, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “We all know brats don’t get to come.”
I let out a noise somewhere between a growl and a screech, but he ignores it as he continues his task, undoing the last button and tossing his shirt to the side.
My eyes run hungrily over his flexing abs until they get to the V that disappears into his jeans.
I lick my lips as he flicks the button open.
He snickers. “So needy, baby. What am I going to do with you?”
God, I love that condescending tone. Outside of this room, I would dropkick any man who spoke to me like that, including Ashton, but here?
In private? It makes my goddamn pussy weep for him.
I reach out to touch myself if only to soothe the ache for a moment while he finishes his little withholding act, but he pins me with a glare and my hand freezes in place.
While we’ve played around with some light bondage before, it’s always me tying him up or gagging him.
He prefers to control me with looks and words alone.
I start to remove my glasses so they don’t break, but he stops me.
“Don’t you dare take those off,” he demands. “I want you to see every little thing I’m about to do to you.”
I let go of them, bringing my hands to my side. As much as it’s in my nature to be a brat, I really want to come.
“Good girl,” he praises, shoving his jeans and boxer briefs down his legs and kicking them away.
He fists his hard length, smearing some precum that’s gathered at the tip, then leans forward, bracing himself with a hand next to my head while his other one cups my breast. His thumb brushes over my nipple and I shudder, my eyes rolling back, earning me another smirk.
He loves my reactions. I’m pretty sure it’s the noises I make when I come that get him off.
He cups my chin, gently forcing my eyes back up to his.
“What am I?” he asks, his tone softer now.
I look into those caramel eyes, dripping with lust and love and everything in between. “Mine,” I whisper.
I feel the crown of his cock nudge my opening.
So close.
“And what are you?”
“Yours.” It isn’t a question or even an admission. It’s the bare naked truth. One that has always existed in the universe, even before we ever locked eyes. I was always meant to be his.
With that one word, Ashton’s pupils bleed out, black engulfing any remaining amber like an eclipse.
His first thrust is necessary. It’s fresh rain on dry, scorched earth.
His second is healing, and I cry out, tears pricking my eyes.
As he lifts my hips, draping my legs over his shoulders to go even deeper, the tears fall freely, staining my cheeks and salting my lips.
Seeing my tears, he freezes, raising an eyebrow, as if to ask a silent question. I nod and push up to encourage him to keep going. And he does, rocking his hips as he brings his thumb down to rub my swollen clit where we’re connected.
He keeps going until I’m screaming, and he follows shortly after, pulsing deep inside me.
We both fall onto the bed, panting as he pulls me into him, wrapping his arms around me from behind.
He doesn’t let go, and I don’t attempt to get up.
Not when our breathing evens out. Not when I feel his cum sliding down my leg.
Not when my eyelids grow heavy and sink past my stinging irises.
I’ve spent too much time running away from love.
I won’t ever leave him sleeping alone in the sand again.