9: In Which She Stops Running

9: In Which She Stops Running

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“Places, everyone,” Teddy hissed, quickly flicking the light off in her living room. She turned to face the small gathering. “He’s coming.”

I fell to my knees and crouched behind one of her huge black leather couches, squashed between a guy dressed as a lumberjack and a girl going as a witch from Buffy. To be honest, I was more creeped out by the lumberjack than I was about the witch. He had a toy axe in hand and wore stark-white lederhosen. Any grown man who went to such lengths for something as idiotic as Halloween deserved to be put in a straitjacket and locked away for a very long time. My only concession to the celebration was a pair of pink Playboy bunny ears on my head. I’d refused to dress up, choosing, instead, to wear a short white cotton dress that made me look ‘adorably innocent’ – Teddy’s words.

The front door was pushed open and someone hissed for everyone to ‘shut the hell up’. It sounded like Teddy.

“Ted?”

I felt a tug in my abdomen at the sound of Ashton’s baritone. I needed to tell my stomach to cool down.

“Mom?”

Light bathed the room and everyone around me sprang into action. I tottered to my feet reluctantly, bracing myself for the moment when Ashton would eventually spot me. No doubt he’d find this whole Halloween-slash-birthday bash utterly stupid but Teddy confessed that Ashton’s childhood was filled with him in Dracula and Egyptian mummy costumes, ergo he’d find his first Halloween birthday party utterly hilarious.

“I never thought to fuse the two things,” Teddy had laughed, adjusting her beehive Amy Winehouse wig on her head two hours before the party. “Isn’t that unimaginative of me?”

For three weeks, we had planned this occasion with simplicity in mind. It was clear to a blind parrot that Teddy West loved her son with all her heart and then some. While phoning up all of Ashton’s friends – courtesy of a contacts book Teddy kept handy – I’d learned more about him than I wished to know. Ashton skateboarded on Sundays with Luca Ferrell; Ashton helped out at the local orphanage whenever he could with his buddy Sean Dustin; Ashton and Helen Forrest went out in seventh grade and he introduced her to her current boyfriend; Ashton once broke his leg on a drunken trip to Cabo with Matt Pinelli and friends…

Everyone had some funny anecdote or other to chirrup over the phone, pausing to convey how they were ‘psyched’ for the party at his mother’s house. Apparently Teddy was one of the gang, cool without trying.

Watching his friends maul him and wish him a happy birthday, I felt something I shouldn’t have been feeling. Yes, there was a shitload of lust there, but then there was something else. I’d been trying to analyse it while I spent the day with Teddy but couldn’t exactly put a finger on it.

Now, Teddy was beckoning me over to her and her son, a wide smile on her pretty face. If anyone else’s mother attempted to dress up as Amy Winehouse, they’d end up looking dirty and slutty, but Teddy looked like a goddess and her son looked like an Adonis in plainclothes. An angry one, but a god no less.

“Amor,” he began, pulling me into an embrace, “what are you doing here?”

“Your mother’s a very convincing woman,” I replied, inhaling the scent of his maleness. Two seconds in his arms and I was already itching to throw him down and ride him. I had never had a problem with self-control until he…

Don’t think these dangerous thoughts.

“So you’re a party planner as well as a radio-show host and vixen,” Ashton teased, his arms still around my waist.

“Vixen?” My voice caught on the word.

“Don’t be coy, babe.”

“I thought you were mad at me,” I exhaled, wishing I could exercise some self-restraint and push him away. Self-restraint was becoming foreign to me with each passing day, when it came to him.

“Dance with me,” said Ashton, cupping my chin with a hand. The lights had been dimmed almost to blackness and a DJ friend of Ashton’s filled the spacious living room with music. It was much too fast for the lazy pace Ashton was moving us, pressing my body against his in a slow dance.

“Thank you,” he said into my ear, his hot breath as erotic as his hands.

“What for?”

“Indulging my mother,” he replied, his hand tracing the column of my spine. I shivered. “You probably didn’t want to get involved. Boundaries, after all.”

“Your mother is lovely, Ashton. I’m starting to think I’d do anything for her.”

“You and me both.” He spun me around in his arms, my back now shoved up against him. “Feel what you do to me, Amor.”

I squeezed my eyes closed, my breath catching. Ashton’s erection was hard and demanding against the small of my back and when his hands slid down my waist and over the V of my pelvis, I could’ve creamed my panties. Instead, I gently pushed them away.

“What? You’re worried someone will see?” Ashton whispered into my ear, his voice so low and sensuous I instantly became wet. My clítoris was throbbing in the confines of my panties. I did want him to rub it, to make the pool of desire disappear with his magic fingers, but not here. Not in his mother’s living room surrounded by all these dancing people.

Ashton twirled me around, pressing my front to his, as the song became a slow jam. Barry White’s voice poured into the room and the mood instantly changed, sparked with an intense heat.

“You ever think about letting your hair loose?” Ashton asked, his breath kissing my neck as we waltzed.

“My hair’s fine,” I snapped in annoyance.

Ashton chuckled. “That’s not what I meant.” I knew what he meant but I wasn’t going to acknowledge it. “You know what I meant,” he said softly.

His hands slowly hiked up the hem of my dress and my breath caught.

“What are you doing?” I uneasily glanced around at the dancing couples. What if they see? What if Teddy sees? What if they think I’m a slut?

Ashton’s hands were quick and practiced as he pushed the crotch of my underwear aside, hoisting my right leg up, up around his waist. “Giving a new meaning to dirty dancing,” he replied quietly.

And he entered me in one liquid thrust.

Like a cheap hussy, I clenched my coital muscles around his length, wanting him to drive even deeper inside me. The sweet sensation of pleasure swelled up from my pússy and throughout my entire being, threatening to swallow me whole. Ashton’s hands firmly cupped the swell of my buttocks, steadying me as he rammed into me repeatedly and pulled me onto him. Swaying slightly, I was dizzy with the bubbling orgasm that was building inside me from his penetrating thrusts and the fact that we were in a room full of people dancing to Can’t Get Enough of Your Love, Babe.

Ashton’s breath fanned my neck as he murmured things I couldn’t hear over the loud music. I wouldn’t have been able to hear anyway. The sound of hot-white ecstasy was in my ears, blood rushing to my head and blocking out all other noise. When he pressed the pad of his thumb on my clít, I arched my back and pushed myself against him, climaxing in a series of spurts and tremors. Digging his fingers into the soft flesh of my buttocks, Ashton came seconds later, groaning into my neck and biting gently. He withdrew and righted me, pulling at the hem of my dress.

“I have your birthday present,” I murmured into his ear, still catching my breath, “but it’s in your old bedroom.”

“Oh, yeah? It better not be an action figure,” he replied, grinning in the near-darkness. “Action is just fine.” He took my hand and we waded through the sea of people we couldn’t really make out in the dark.

Ashton’s bedroom was on the west side of the cottage, far from the activity happening on the east. The music had now changed back to dance and the fading thump of it could just be heard as we reached the door of his bedroom. Ashton pushed the door open and flicked the light on, leading me inside and closing the door, locking it behind him.

“Teddy sent me in here to get your little black book,” I confessed, stroking a laughing photograph of him on the wall above his empty desk. He looked about eight. “You were cute.”

“Past tense?” His arms wrapped around my waist as his chin dug into the crook of my shoulder. “I’m offended.”

“You’re a little too old to be cute,” I laughed, spinning around in his arms. He pushed me against the edge of his desk and I unbuttoned the first button of his purple-and-black checked flannel shirt. “I want to tell you something. Something I haven’t told anyone. Even my sister.”

The teasing smile on his face died. Instead, he looked grim. “You can tell me anything, babe.”

Where do I start?

“What happened to your father? Teddy doesn’t talk about him.”

Ashton’s face clouded over. “If you’re trying to deflate my new, shiny hard-on, you’re doing a very good job of it.”

“Is everything about sex to you?” I could feel the tears threatening to fall and fought to keep them back.

Ashton looked wounded. “It’s not.” Exhaling, he said, “My mother was sixteen and my father was her high school English teacher. He was married with two kids and a sick wife. She was in love. And she never told him.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” He shrugged. “She’s had a tough life. As a teen mom, no one’s quick to help you out, least of all the people you’d expect. Her own parents kicked her out and left her to fend for herself.” Smiling, he stroked my sides with his hands. “My Teddy’s still here. Still kicking. All I’ve ever wanted was to repay her for the sacrifice she made for me. She could’ve popped a pill and ended my life but she chose not to. Instead, she came out to the UK to have me.” He smiled. “She’s my everything, Amor. I’d do anything for her.”

I swallowed, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “She’s so lucky to have you. I wish…”

“You wish?”

I wish I had someone to take care of me.

I shook my head. “”Nothing.” I paused. “I killed my father.”

There. It was out in the open.

“What?”

Pushing him away, I went to his open window. “My first boyfriend was eighteen and I considered myself smitten,” I began, willing myself not to cry. “I was only fourteen, my goodness, and he was this big, strong mechanic who used to call me all these sweet names.” I snorted. “How stupid I was. All he really wanted was sex and I was too gullible to see it. What else would a man want with an overdeveloped little girl?”

Ashton was silent, allowing me to continue.

“My parents didn’t know I was dating and I was good at the deception.” I tasted salt and knew I’d lost the battle with my tear ducts. “He…he raped me. Daddy found out and went after him and…and Kevin shot him.” I felt Ashton’s warmth around me and leaned into it, sobbing like a baby. “Why did I have to be so stupid?”

“You weren’t,” Ashton grunted, stroking my hair. “Amor, you didn’t kill him. That shithead did. And it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault, babe.”

“God, it is. I’ve spent my life regretting it. I’ve tried to be normal, to pretend being with men doesn’t scare the living hell out of me.” I snorted with a bitter laugh. “I’m a bloody relationship expert.”

“So...this is why you prefer escorts.”

“They’re predictable. They won’t touch me unless I say so. But you...” I trailed off, burying my face in his chest. “Why do you… you affect me like this?” I wished I could believe him, believe that I was innocent.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re my first since...then.” As soon as the words were out my mouth, I wished I could pull them back in. I tore away from him, looking away.

“You mean…” He gently made me look at him. “Shít, Amor, why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have been so…so blasé about seducing you!” He slapped his forehead. “You kept flinching and recoiling whenever I touched you. I practically forced myself onto you!”

I wiped my eyes. “Seducing me?”

Ashton smiled wryly. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I wanted you that first night at your mother’s birthday party.” He took my hands in his. “What happened to Kevin?”

“Dead. Suicide.”

Ashton’s eyes narrowed. “A suicide’s too easy for a shithead like that. Someone should have made him suffer. Me.”

“Thank you, Ashton. Thank you for listening.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He kissed the inside of my hand. “I understand you now, Amor. That's all I’ve wanted.”

Such a simple kiss sent shivers of anticipation down my spine. I longed to initiate – sober – and now I could. There were no secrets between us and it felt like a weight had been removed from my shoulders.

Gently, I pushed Ashton back until he fell onto his narrow childhood bed. Propping himself up on his elbows, he regarded me. “Amor, we can just talk if you want.”

“I don’t want.” I moved to straddle him and he gasped from the sudden pressure on his erection. “I want to show you that I’m not frigid. That I’m not bound by what happened to me.”

“You’re not frigid,” he said softly, stroking my leg.

“Weren’t you the same person who told me to let loose?” I unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the golden skin I itched to run my hands along. I peered at his left arm. “Is this what I think it is?”

Shrugging out of his shirt, he casually replied, “If you think it’s a nicotine patch, you’re correct.”

I beamed at him in amazement. “You’re quitting?”

“Seven days and counting.”

I bent and kissed his mouth, my tongue running along his full bottom lip. “Don’t count.”

“If you say so,” he groaned, watching me tug my dress over my head and throw it onto the carpet. His eyes zoned in on my abdomen. “Now is that what I think it is?” I trembled when he pressed a finger on the healing tattoo on the left side of my stomach. Today, I’d left the bandage off. “Carpe diem,” he read softly, tracing each italicised letter. “Seize the day.”

“I quit the station,” I whispered, “and I’m writing a book. Except that now, it might just be an autobiography.”

“What was it going to be before?” His hand was still on my tummy.

“Erotica,” I replied cheekily, unhooking the clasp of my bra. Ashton’s gaze returned to my chest.

“Do both.”

I lowered a nipple into his waiting mouth, hissing as he began the slow, torturous task of teasing it. They were already hard and my breasts were painfully heavy with need. Every part of me was throbbing and, beneath me, Ashton was, too. Transferring his attention to my other nipple, he tweaked the other between his fingers, driving me half-demented.

It’s not your fault. His words echoed in my head, gentle and sincere. Maybe now I’d be able to give myself away so freely, instead of thinking about what sex should be like.

My underwear came off. Ashton’s jeans came off. There was nothing between us but self-control.

“Happy birthday, Ashton,” I told him, pressing a hand against his chest.

“Happy birthday, Amor.”

I spluttered with laughter. “What?”

“Don’t you feel reborn after telling me what was bothering you, babe?” His voice was soft. “It’s your birthday, too.” He paused. “Damn. I’m beginning to sound like an adult.”

My smile left my face. “That’s sweet.” I ran a finger across his lips. “Ashton, make love to me. Don’t fúck me; make love to me.”

He ran a hand across my cheek. I didn’t realise I’d been crying until I felt the moisture on his fingers. Slowly, he turned me onto my back, fitting himself between my legs. His lips pressed against my forehead and then my nose. He kissed my mouth, slowly and passionately, his tongue exploring every inch of my opening. My tongue met his, and the duel was more sensuous than anything I’d ever experienced. He raised his head and pecked my neck, running his tongue down my chest. Instead of sucking my nipples, he pecked them both, before trailing kisses to the indent of my navel. His tongue flickered in and out, in and out, and desire bubbled in my abdomen.

“Carpe diem, Amor,” he whispered, tenderly kissing my tattoo.

I was impatient, wanting him to focus on my core; wanting him to salve my pússy in the same manner he’d salved the heat of the rest of my throbbing body. But Ashton lingered, caressing my inner thigh with sensual hands. He stroked the sensitive skin as slowly as possible, and my pússy became irked.

Finally, he kissed the soft folds of my sex and I arched my back, pushing it into his face. Ashton toyed with my clít and his long tongue slithered deep inside me, bringing me to the edge of something powerful.

Just when I thought I would explode, he lifted his head up and hovered over me, allowing me to taste myself. I mewed with pleasure and then moaned with contentment when he finally inched himself inside me. Ashton’s strokes were measured and unhurried. His eyes never left mine and, as I begged for him to go even deeper, I realised that I never wanted them to.

Once again, his mouth claimed mine and in that moment, I couldn’t hold back. Meeting his thrusts, I climaxed, screaming his name and gasping. After a while, he collapsed over me, breathing heavily.

And then it hit me: That feeling I'd been trying to identify for the past few weeks.

Fear.

I was afraid of Ashton West. He didn't know it, but he had a lot of power over me. And that was what scared me.