Chapter 11 #2
Ash breaks the kiss, a slight blush tinging his cheeks. His hand wraps around my wrist to stop me. “We should talk about how you're feeling—”
My voice is rough. “I don't want to talk. I want you to fuck me until I forget his name. Hell, until I forget my own name.” I squeeze his dick slightly, making him bite the inside of his cheek. “I want you filling me up and the only thing I can focus on is your thick cock tearing me in half.”
Ash is breathing heavily. I can see the fight on his face. Protect me or fuck me.
A thought makes itself known in my brain. A Hail Mary. “Please, master.”
Ash shoves me into the tile, his body crushing me against the wall. His tongue is in my mouth. His hands hiking my thighs up to wrap around his waist.
I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him back just as fiercely. His large cock rubs against my ass, making me moan.
Ash pulls away, licking my neck, sucking the skin between his teeth until it hurts. “Say it again.”
I lean my head against the wall, enjoying his mouth. “You're a freak.” A finger slips into my ass. “Fuck!”
“Your freak.” Ash licks my adam's apple, pushing the finger in deeper.
“Say it.” A demand.
A second finger presses in, spreading me wide. “Yes, master.”
Ash groans, biting my shoulder as he fingers me.
A high pitch moan comes from my throat that undoes him. He pushes me against the wall to keep me lifted, his free hand reaching behind him to open the curtain. He accidentally tears a few rungs from the fabric in his haste. The shower is left on, forgotten.
He carries me out of the shower and drops to his knees on the rug in his bedroom.
“Are you okay?” I yelp.
But he's a man possessed. His mouth closes over mine, pushing me down onto the floor. I try to say his name, but he just swallows it. He kisses down my throat, my chest, my hips, leaving me cold without him shielding me.
Then my cock is in his mouth.
“Jesus Christ!” I throw my head back as his tongue works over the head. He sucks gently as his fingers press into my hole once more.
“Oh. Fuck. Ashford.” I cover my face with my hand.
He tears my arm away, giving me a look that says: Let me see you.
Three fingers are petting me from inside. My hands are tangled in his hair as he bobs his head up and down around my dick.
His broad, strong shoulders glisten in the faint setting sun streaming through his blinds. And in this moment, I feel like a god is worshipping me.
Pressure builds and builds in my core.
“I'm gonna come.” I grip his hair tight in my fingers. “Fuck.”
Ash reaches his free hand up to pinch one of my nipples, sending me over the edge.
I come in his mouth, with his name clawing up my throat.
When my vision comes back, I see Ash pulling away from me. He sits back on his heels, his cock red and angry. Veins straining on his shaft.
He keeps his eyes on me as he spits my cum from his mouth and into his hand. He slicks it over his dick, licking his lips. Tasting me.
“Beg for it.”
I spread my legs, my hands dragging up to tweak my nipples. “Please fuck me, sir. Please, I need you.”
Total pathetic devotion melts across his face from my words. He lines up with my hole, pressing one of my legs up to my chest.
We groan together as he presses in. It doesn't hurt anymore, just pure pleasure. The thought crosses my mind as Ash pulls me closer by my hip.
Ash plows into me, like he can't wait anymore. A yelp pulls from my throat.
“You feel so good,” I moan.
“Don't stop.”
“Yes, right there. Right there!”
“Ash, oh fuck. Aaasshh.”
Ash fucks me rough and raw until I'm sure I have rug burn all over my back. His eyes are crazed. His teeth finding any spot to mark me, bruise me.
He pulls me up, so I'm balanced on his lap. I move myself, bouncing on my knees so he can take a break and just feel me.
“Fuck, you're so good for me,” Ash mumbles against my throat. “Perfect, perfect, perfect.”
He keeps saying perfect like he can't think of a single word besides that. Then his teeth sink into my shoulder so hard I think he drew blood.
Ash grunts as his cock twitches inside of me. I throw my head back as I feel his warmth slicken my hole. I don't stop bouncing until Ash has to beg me to stop before he passes out. Ash lies back on the carpet, pulling me on top of him.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. The apartment is quiet except for our breathing and the rain tapping softly against the windows. Somewhere in the distance, traffic hums through the city, muffled by the walls of Ash's condo.
I slowly push myself upright. Every muscle in my body reminds me exactly how the last hour unfolded, but the ache doesn't bother me. If anything, it feels grounding. My mind has finally gone quiet.
Ash remains stretched out on the floor, one forearm thrown over his eyes as he catches his breath. A lazy smile tugs at the corner of his mouth when he hears me moving, but he doesn't open his eyes.
I slip into the bathroom to turn off the shower we'd abandoned earlier. Steam still hangs in the room, fogging the mirror until I wipe a hand across the glass.
My reflection stares back at me. My hair is a mess. My cheeks are still flushed. Dark marks bloom across my neck and collarbone, disappearing beneath where a T-shirt would sit. A vivid bite mark stains one shoulder, surrounded by bruises that will take days to fade.
For a second, I barely recognize the man staring back. He looks… Alive.
I reach up and brush my fingertips over one of the bruises. Ash's fingerprints. Ash's mouth. Evidence that, for a little while, my entire world had shrunk to one room and one person.
No William.
No blood.
No reporters.
No guilt.
Just breathing.
Just him and me.
My shoulders slowly loosen. Maybe this works. Maybe this is enough. Then Noah's face flashes through my mind. The peace evaporates so quickly it almost makes me dizzy.
I grip the edge of the sink. I close my eyes.
Not now.
Please.
Not now.
I force myself to inhale.
By the time I open the bathroom door again, Ash is sitting up against the bed with one knee bent, watching me quietly. He studies my face for barely a second before he knows.
The silence is gone. The thoughts are back.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
I shake my head. “No.”
He doesn't push, just simply waits.
The words leave my mouth before I have time to think about them. “...Again.”
For a heartbeat, he just looks at me. Then the smallest smile appears.
“Whatever you want, prince.”
He stands and crosses the room. When he reaches me, he doesn't ask questions.
Ash spent the next several hours using me how he saw fit until the sun had set and the night was full of thunder from the rain and his bedpost. Words are exchanged that can only be said with the drunkenness of lust.
“Look at me while I'm inside you.”
“Ash, don't stop.”
“Kiss me.”
“Harder.”
“Such a pretty boy.”
“Fuck me. Use me. Please.”
When we finally finish for the fourth time, Ash is breathing hard face-first into his pillow.
He falls asleep astonishingly fast. One moment he's murmuring something half coherent about practice tomorrow. The next he's gone.
His arm never leaves my waist. Even asleep, he keeps me tucked securely against him.
I lie awake listening to the rhythm of his breathing.
For the first time in a very long time, the silence doesn't feel threatening. It feels peaceful. I know this is dangerous. I know I'm walking toward something that could break me if it disappears.
Ash isn't medication.
He isn't therapy.
He isn't supposed to become the only place where my mind feels quiet.
And yet that's exactly what's happening.
Every day, I find myself looking forward to seeing him a little more.
Every night, I dread going home a little more.
He's becoming an addiction. Not because of desire.
Not because of what happens behind closed doors.
Because when I'm with him, I can breathe.
Because when he wraps a hand around the back of my neck and tells me to look at him, the panic listens.
Because when he looks at me, I almost believe I'm worth saving.
I should stop this now.
Before it gets worse.
Before I start needing him.
Before I convince myself someone like Ashford Grant could ever want someone like me for reasons that have nothing to do with distraction.
Instead, I settle a little closer against his chest. Just this once. I'll allow it.
Tomorrow, I can worry about boundaries.
Tomorrow, I can remember all the reasons this is a terrible idea.
Tonight, I let the steady beat of Ash's heart lull me to sleep, and for the first time in two years, the nightmares arrive too late to catch me.