Chapter 8 Asher #2
“Here we are.” I step inside and wave my arm at my childhood room.
The queen-sized bed is made with its same emerald comforter, the woodwork throughout the room is polished, but still shows signs of scratches and dings, and my same old furniture sits where it always has, holding my trophies, collectibles, and childhood photos.
“It’s like a little king’s room,” Ella muses.
“A little king’s room?”
“Yes. It’s large enough to have its own sitting room, and you have an en suite bathroom and walk-in closet.
The bedroom I grew up in was a fraction of this size and had a tiny closet.
But then you are the heir, so a little king’s room is apt.
” She winks at me and continues her perusal.
Then she suddenly whirls to face me with a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Did you ever sneak a girl in here?”
“A few times when my parents were away.”
“Why only a few times?”
“It was hard to get them past Harold. And I had to bribe and threaten Declan and Sterling within an inch of my life to keep it secret.”
She laughs. “Were you a ladies’ man, even back then?”
“It was hard not to be when women and girls started throwing themselves at me by the time I was fifteen.”
“Women?”
I nod. “Women. Money and power can blur many lines of propriety.”
“Fucking hell. And did you . . . I mean, were you with any women when you were a boy?”
“No. I was sorely tempted a couple of times, but my bodyguards put a stop to it.”
“Thank god for that.”
She runs her hand along the dresser and shelves, taking in all my embarrassing photos and trophies.
“I could never have snuck a boy into my bedroom at home,” she says, absentmindedly.
“It was too close to my parents’ room. They would have heard everything, and I would have been grounded until college. ”
“So, no trysts at home for you?”
“No. Not for me. No trysts until I was an adult and in college.”
“Now that we’re speaking of trysts, you have my mind working in wicked ways, Ms. Hale.”
She stops and turns to look at me again, one brow lifted. “And just what do you mean by that?”
I take three steps and lock the bedroom door, then prowl toward her.
“I mean that when I was an idiot teen, I had no idea what the fuck I was doing with girls. My efforts in this room were laughable at best. And you know how much I hate to perform below anything but exceptional standards. I think it’s time I remedied that. ”
“Your parents and brother are downstairs.”
“Yes, and they’ll stay there. As you said, this is a mansion with plenty of space. No one will hear.”
“Asher . . .”
“Ella . . .” I mimic. “Since I’ve done so well with our games of truth or dare, I would like to start another one.”
She bites her lip to hide her smile.
“I gave you a truth. You asked if I brought girls here, and I told you yes. So, it’s my turn. And I choose dare. I dare you to hop up on my dresser.”
Her breaths quicken, and I know she wants to, but propriety is warring in her mind. Perhaps I’ll just help her make up her mind.
I walk toward her, and she steps backward until she bumps into the dresser.
Two of my old trophies and a picture tip over, clattering against the wood surface.
Ella yelps as I lift her and set her on the dresser, hiking her dress up near her hips.
Her green eyes burn with lust, but I can still see the war of indecision in them.
I slide my hands up her dress, my palms grazing over her inner thighs.
She sucks in a breath when I run my thumb along her center.
I bend down to whisper in her ear. “I dare you to open your legs for me, baby.” A beat later, I almost purr with satisfaction when she does. “Good girl. Now lift your hips for me.”
She leans back on her hands and lifts her hips, and I slip my hands back beneath her dress and grab her panties.
I slide them down her legs, and when I bend down to slip them off her heels, I get the perfect view of her spread legs beneath her dress.
I stop for a moment and just enjoy the view.
Her pretty pussy is already wet for me. Fuck, yes.
“I could never tire of staring at your pussy open and bared for me,” I say as I stand back up.
I bend down and nip at her neck. She lets out a little breath that has my already hard cock straining against my pants.
Our lips crash together as I unzip the top of her dress and slide the straps down until the top of it sits beneath her bra, then I yank her bra down, baring her tits.
I knead them in my palms, growling against her mouth.
God, it’s only been since this morning that I touched them, since I was inside her, but that’s too fucking long.
I pull away from her lips and take each of her tits in my mouth as she leans back on the dresser, wrapping her legs around me.
“Asher,” she whimpers.
I unbuckle my belt and unzip my pants. “Now, I dare you to take my cock in your cunt like a good girl, in my childhood room, and make all of my boyhood fantasies come true.”
I grab her by the hips and scoot her toward me, pulling her legs open wider.
Her dress is now only around her torso, with the top pulled down and the bottom pushed up past her hips.
Delicious. I shove inside her in one thrust, and she bites down on my shoulder to keep from crying out.
I take deep breaths to calm my over-excited dick because good fucking hell, there is no better feeling than being seated inside her.
I could live with my cock inside her and want for nothing else.
“Lean back and let me take you, baby.”
She puts her weight back on her arms, and I start moving, using my hands on her hips to help her move.
I slam into her over and over, not caring that the wood of the dresser squeaks and groans with our movements.
Not caring that my family is in the house a floor below.
I’m so lost in the feel of her, at the sight of her tits bouncing as I take her, and the obscene sound of our pounding skin, to care.
Ella is everything I want and fucking her in my childhood room is a fantasy come true.
“Asher,” she whispers. “Oh, god, yes.”
“That’s it, baby. Take it. This is why you’re perfect for me. A lady on the outside, but a whore in the bedroom. Do you like being my perfect little whore?”
“Yes,” she breathes. “For you. Only for you.”
“Fucking right. This cunt is mine. And I’ll take it when I want. And you’ll give it to me like my good little whore.”
“Yes.”
I’m so fucking turned on, I’m close. I press my thumb to her clit and bite down on her nipple. “Come for me.”
“I’m close.”
I press harder on her clit. She moans but bites her lip to keep the sound muted. “Come on, Ella. I want to feel you come on my cock.”
Seconds later, she comes with a gasp, biting down on her lip again to muffle the sound. I thrust two, three more times before I follow, spilling into her. I bury my face against her shoulder to keep my own cries at bay, and we move together until the last waves of our orgasms fade.
I straighten up and pull back from Ella, watching my cock slide out of her with indecent satisfaction.
My cum oozes out of her, running down her thighs and onto my old dresser.
Ella gasps softly when she notices it, and when she looks at me, her green eyes still burn with lust and want, then her full lips part as she breathes heavily.
“We should clean that up,” she says.
“No. I hope it stains the wood. Nothing in this room has changed in the last seventeen years; it’s due for an update.”
I lift Ella off the dresser, making sure not to smear the cum, and toss her onto my bed. I grab some tissues that the housekeepers still stock in the room for reasons unknown and clean up Ella’s pussy.
“How thoughtful of you, Mr. Langford,” Ella purrs, smiling up at me.
“Oh, this isn’t altruism, Ms. Hale. This is purely selfish. Although, you’ll enjoy it, no doubt.”
I drop to my knees and pull Ella to the edge of the bed, wrapping her legs around my shoulders.
“You want to do that now? Your cum is still all over and inside me.”
I smile deviously. “I’ve never been one to want to taste cum. But tasting my own because it’s inside your pussy? I can get on board with that.”
“You’re insatiable.”
“You have no idea.”
I lower my head, take her cunt in my mouth, and feast on her like she’s my own personal goddess.
Because yes, I can fucking get on board with this.
How I’ll go without this for ten days on my business trip, I don’t know.
I’m sorely tempted to kidnap Ella and take her with me.
But I don’t think that would do me any favors.
All I can hope for is that she misses me as much as I’ll no doubt miss her.
Ella comes with another muffled shout, but her voice is drowned out as loud, furious knocks, bang on the door.
“Asher, you need to get downstairs, now,” Declan barks through the door.
Ella’s eyes lock with mine and we both freeze for a second, caught off guard to have my brother pounding on the door during such an intimate moment.
When the shock wears off, I help her right her clothes, and we both scramble to our feet.
Declan no doubt knows exactly what Ella and I have been up to in my room, so for him to interrupt in such an abrupt manner means something is wrong.
“What is it?” I ask Declan as soon I open the door.
“A package was just delivered here. For you.”
I clench my jaw. “Me.”
“Dad already opened it.”
He doesn’t elaborate, and Ella and I follow him downstairs to the sitting room off the foyer where my father and mother are seated on a couch, staring down at a box on the coffee table. Their faces are solemn, and my father’s eyes are tinged with a deep hurt I rarely see in him.
“Stay right here,” I order Ella as I cross the room and look down at the box. A note sits on top.
I do believe these were Edward Langford’s favorite
A small jewelry box sits open beneath the note.
My grandfather’s gold Langford cufflinks sit inside.
My heart pounds in my chest as I take in a small smattering of blood still on one of them.
He’d been wearing these the night he was murdered, but they were not on his clothes when his body was recovered.
They’ve been missing for twenty-five years.
Again, that night comes roaring back to my mind.
Grandpa’s limp, dead body is hauled from the ground by the first two masked men.
They shove him into the back of his car.
The third man picks me up and throws me over his shoulder.
I fight, kick, scream, but he punches me in the ribs to shut me up and keep me still. My breath is knocked out of my chest.
I’m thrown into the back of the car on top of Grandpa’s body.
I roll off him, screaming, panicking. What’s happening?
Where are we going? Why hasn’t someone come for us?
Grandpa pressed his alert button when the masked men pulled us from the car.
That was a long time ago. Where is security? Why didn’t they come?
The door shuts, and the car darts away, tires squealing.
Only one of the masked men is in the car.
He’s driving grandpa’s long limo recklessly.
The faint lights outside the dark window blur by faster than I’ve ever seen them as the driver speeds up, swerving, and I fly off the seat, landing on the floor next to Grandpa.
“You must always wear a seatbelt, young Mr. Langford,” my security guard’s words ring through my mind. Mr. Henley is always pushy about my seatbelt.
In a haze, I wriggle my way back up to the seat with my bound hands.
I can’t reach the over the shoulder seat belts, but the center seat only has a lap belt.
I shimmy onto the seat, grab the lap belt, and toss it, trying to throw it over my lap.
I try one, two, three, four times before it works.
I turn my body and grasp for the buckle with my bound hands, but the driver veers, knocking me onto my side.
I inch my way back up to sitting, frantic.
Too fast. We’re driving too fast. I look behind me, over my shoulder, trying to get the lap belt into the buckle.
My hands shake as I try to fit the buckle together.
The two pieces clink against one another, but don’t connect.
I try again, and again. Each time I’m close, the car hits a bump or swerves.
Clink, clink, clink. No connection, just the two pieces hitting against each other.
The car engine revs, and we pick up more speed.
The driver starts to shout out a Catholic prayer in a hysterical, manic voice.
I try again. Finally, click. The seatbelt is fastened! I use my teeth to grab the excess length, and pull it as far as I can, tightening the belt.
The fabric of the belt barely leaves my mouth before the boom of the crash.
Everything goes dark.
Ella sidles up beside me. “What’s going on, Asher?” she whispers.
I flinch, coming back to myself.
Ella looks down at the package in my hands and gasps.
Lumped in the bottom, beneath the cufflinks, are dozens of photographs.
I pluck them out, and my hands begin to shake, ever so slightly.
From fear, from rage. The photos are candid shots of me, walking into work with my security, of Declan playing golf, but most of them are of Ella.
Of her heading in or out of work, at the Vericom launch, out to dinner with her friends.
I toss them back into the box.
I’ve hesitated to tell Ella the entirety of the threats levied against me because I didn’t want to scare her.
I knew I couldn’t keep it from her for much longer, but I wanted to give her time to process the fallout of what happened with Kyle first. I didn’t want to shove a new problem in her face, but now that’s out of my hands.
I set the box down and turn to look at her.
“Our family is being threatened. That threat is mostly directed at me, but since you’re with me, it’s being directed at you as well.
” My voice is dead, emotionless. I hate to give her this truth.
But I know that keeping her in the dark about how dangerous this situation is, is no longer an option. Not when the threat is this overt.
“We need to talk,” I say, resigned. Maybe now she’ll understand my hesitance about our relationship.
It’s not about her. It’s about this. It’s about whether I want to pull her into this for the long term.
I have no control over the short term, the board made sure of that.
But I don’t know how to bring Ella, and maybe someday a family, into my world when this is a part of it.
That’s what keeps me hesitating. That’s what I need to lay out for her, so she understands the truth.
She needs to know that if she stays with me, she’ll always be a target.