by Huss, JA
She obeys without words and my dick expands to its full thickness as she presses her ass into me.
“What do you like, Ashleigh? You like it slow and tender? Because if so, you’re out of luck. I’m not that kind of guy.” I press my chest into her back and I can almost feel her rapidly beating heart.
“I like what you like, Rutherford.”
She says my name like she knows me intimately. It almost puts me off my game, because I’m not used to the women I fuck speaking, let alone addressing me by my given name. “You have no idea what I like and if I were you, I’d be careful what you agree to. Because I like it dirty and if I decide to fuck you, I’ll expect compliance.”
“Just get me off,” she says in a low whisper. I push my legs up against her thighs and feel my dick press up against her ass. She moans but I pull back and slip my hand in there instead. The same place where her hand was just a few seconds ago.
I rub her clit through her panties. She moans again. “I like that. Keep doing it,” she says in a breathy whisper.
I lean into her neck and nip her earlobe. “I will, because I’m tired and I want to go to bed, but if there’s a next time, I won’t be taking requests.”
My left hand slides up to her full breasts and I palm one. Her nipple bunches up under my fingertip and she lets out a moan. My right hand grabs under her knee and lifts her leg up to bring her ass even with my cock. She goes up on her tiptoes and whines a little as I take control. “Do you want me to stop, Ashleigh?”
She says nothing so I push her panties aside and slide my fingers around her pussy, not touching her clit at all. I get close and her ass presses up against me so I return the gesture, pushing her hips into the wall forcefully, pinning her with my legs. “Put your hands above your head and keep them there,” I command in a low throaty voice.
She obeys and at the same time I press against her sweet spot, then dip inside and rub her. Her juices coat my finger and if I wasn’t still a little drunk I’d throw her down on the floor and eat the shit out of her from behind. But I am drunk, so I move along so I can get her warm, wet mouth on my cock.
I pump her hard and press one finger into her asshole. “You may come, Ashleigh.” As soon as her name comes out of my mouth she moans and I feel the gush of wetness as her pussy and ass clench around my fingers. She must’ve been primed before I ever walked into the room. She presses back against my chest and instead of moving away like I normally would, I push back, pinning her fully beneath me against the wall and dipping my mouth down to bite her on the shoulder. Her body is less resistant now and this is the part I like. When they just give in. I’m just about to push her down on her knees so she can take me in her mouth when I glance up and see her hand pressed up against the wall.
I forgot she was wearing a fucking ring. I pull away and she almost falls down. “Fuck!”
“What?” she asks, getting her balance back after her orgasm. I just stare at her finger. “What?” she asks again.
“You’re married. Fuck!”
I go back into the room, grab a pair of sweats from the dresser, and walk back out into the hallway. I stop in front of her—so fucking hard I almost poke her with my dick—and shake my head. “You’re fucking married. I do not, do not, fuck around with married woman. I’m sorry. The whiskey…”
“I’m not married,” she says softly. And then she looks down at her ring. It’s not a huge diamond, but it’s respectable. “I was… I’m just engaged.”
I belt out a little laugh. “Close e-fucking-nough for me, Ashleigh.”
I pull the sweats on right in front of her and walk away.
Chapter Eleven
“Ford.” A hand is touching me.
I shrug it off, roll over and go back to sleep.
“Ford,” the fucking hand that should not be touching me but is, says again.
“Stop touching me,” I growl. The hand pulls back from my shoulder.
“It’s like, afternoon. You’ve been sleeping all day. I just wanted to make sure you’re not dead.”
“Clearly I am not dead.”
“Yes, OK.” She stands up and it’s only then that I realize she was sitting down next to me.
I lift my head up and watch her walk to the stairs. Her ass was touching me. And it didn’t even wake me up. “Wait.” She hesitates but does not stop. She climbs the stairs instead. I listen for a few minutes as she walks all over the place. To the kitchen. Down by the bedrooms. Then back to the kitchen. And finally to the living room where she stops. She must’ve sat down.
I let out a long breath and pinch the bridge of my nose with my fingertips. I am not hungover. I do not get hungover. I swing my feet off the side of the couch and get dizzy.
Maybe I’m a little hungover.
I lie down and fall back asleep.
I feel her this time. She sits next to me again, her ass pressed up against my lower leg. “Ford?”
“Ashleigh, I’m sleeping.”
“No,” she says. “You’re doing something, but sleeping is not it. Maybe you did drink a lot last night. The bottle is only half full, so I guess that’s a lot of whiskey. But you went to bed early. Before midnight. And right now it’s four in the afternoon. So that’s a lot of fucking sleep.”
Her swearing makes me look up because so far she’s kept her language clean.
She smiles as she shrugs. “It got your attention.”
I lay my head back down but I smile into the soft leather cushion. “You’ve got my attention. The question now is…” I lift my head again and turn so I can see her reaction clearly. “What do you want to do with it?” She looks down and I follow her gaze to her left hand. The ring is gone. “You took off your ring. Is that what you want me to know?”
She nods.
“Speak.”
“Yes.”
“Why? Why do you want me to know that, Ashleigh?” Her name comes out a lot softer than I mean it to and that evokes a feeling of desire in me. I want her, I realize. Maybe just the blow job I didn’t get last night, or maybe even an actual fuck. But either way, I’m not done with her yet.
My softening attitude gives her some courage and she meets my gaze.
“Because I’m sorry about last night. And I don’t want you to feel bad about it. I’m not engaged.”
“Any longer, you mean. You’re not engaged any longer.”
“Right.”
I twist my body so I’m lying on my back and I can see her clearly. I’m not one for conversation with strangers, but she’s interested in something. Me. She’s interested in me. I put my hands behind my neck and enjoy her squirming. “And you want me to understand this, the fact that you are not promised to another man… why?”
She hesitates, opens her mouth, closes it again, looks at me, looks away.
I laugh. “Speak, Ashleigh. Or this conversation is over and you can go back upstairs.”
“Because you felt good last night.”
“You didn’t even touch me. I touched you. So what you really mean is that I made you feel good last night, correct?”
“Yes,” she says. A quick learner, too. Not nodding her head but using words as I asked. “And I’d like a next time.”
I smile. The first real smile in… fuck, I have no idea how long. And then she blushes and I have to pretend to scratch the stubble on my chin to hide my pleasure.
“Even,” she adds, “if you won’t take requests.”
This remark makes me laugh. “Is that so?”
She bites her lip and nods, then catches her mistake and whispers, “Yes.”
I kick off the blanket, forcing her to rise, then sit up on the couch properly and look up at her. She’s got on some dark gray leggings, another t-shirt from my closet—it says You can have my ski poles when you pry them from my cold, dead hands—and some of my white sport socks. I’m sure they’re mine, they’re huge on her and they’re all bunched up near her ankles. “Tell me, Ashleigh, what do you think I meant when I said I don’t take r
equests?”
Her chest rises and falls under my t-shirt, a little bit quicker than it was a few seconds ago. Like my question makes her nervous. “You like to be in control,” she finally says.
That’s a nice answer. Sometimes the girls say I like to give orders, but that’s not entirely true. Sometimes they say I want to force them, but that’s not even close. I get rid of those girls immediately. But control, that’s a good answer. Control is right on the money. “Yes, that’s what it means. Tell me what you see. What do you imagine it would be like? Having sex with me?”
“What?” she almost chokes.
“Describe it, Ashleigh.” Finally, she is uncomfortable. I don’t want to bother with girls who want to call the shots. I’d rather know now if she’s acceptable, otherwise I won’t waste my time.
She takes a deep breath and then blushes a bright pink.
Yes.
She lets out a long breath of air. “I don’t know, Ford. I don’t. You’re way out of my league. But I think it would be fun. Last night was…” She stops to swallow and look away and then shakes her head like she can’t believe she’s gonna go there. “Just what I needed.”
Oh God. If I wasn’t doing my best to keep her off guard I’d laugh right now. “Do you like to be controlled?”
She looks at the couch and then at me. “May I sit?”
My dick gets hard at her polite and formal question. “Where’s the baby?”
“Sleeping. Up in your room. I piled up a bunch of pillows around the edge of the bed so she won’t roll over and fall off.”
I glance up at her. “Do they roll over?”
She laughs at me and nods her head. “They can. She doesn’t yet. But if I turn my back for a second, you know, she’ll decide that will be her first time and off the bed she goes.”
I let out a breath at that. Too true. “Fucking Murphy’s Law, right?”
“Exactly,” she replies, her shyness at bay for a moment as she talks about something she’s more comfortable with.
I bring her attention back to me, because fuck that. I didn’t get her all red for nothing. “You may sit because you asked nicely.” She steps towards the couch and lowers herself, not quite on the opposite side of the couch, but not so she’s touching me either. “So tell me, Ashleigh, what are you hoping for?”
She stares at her hands for a moment, then looks me in the eye. I’m almost stunned, that’s how surprised I am that she can meet my gaze after that question. “Just your brand of dirty fun.”
I want to keep it serious, because that’s what I do. I do not allow the girls to have the upper hand, ever. So I’d really like to keep this professional. But I can’t help it, I have to snicker. That was not the answer I was expecting.
“You’re… laughing at me?” Her confidence falters for a moment.
“I’m not,” I tell her. I rather like her directness because it’s real. It comes out a little bit desperate maybe, but it’s still real. “I’m not. It’s just, you threw me for a moment. Your honesty. I like it.”
She nods her head and smooths down her—my—t-shirt and her fingertips pass over her nipples. I’m not sure if this was a deliberate attempt to seduce me or just a nervous gesture, but either way, it turns me on. “I could tell,” she replies.
“You could tell what?” I ask, still staring at her nipples that are pushing against the thin cotton fabric.
“You don’t put up with much. And I’m already a big inconvenience for you. I’m trying to be what you want so—”
“Wait.” I have to stop her here because I’m not sure what she’s alluding to. “What do you think I want?”
“No one. I think you want no one around, and I’m someone. And I have a baby, and no money, and no car. And you’re helping me for some reason. You’re feeling—” She stops to look up at me here. “Obligated, I guess. And I’m… I just don’t want you to get tired of me.”
“Tired of you?” I’m not following.
“Come to your senses and stop caring.”
I laugh. It hurts her, I can tell that much. I might not be the most emotional guy, but I’m not oblivious. “I never cared, Ashleigh. Not that night I invited you in. Not yesterday when I paid your bill or gave you cash to shop. Not last night when I got you off. And if you want me to do it again, I won’t care today either. So what do you want from me? Because I won’t be keeping you around, if that’s what you’re after. I can get any girl I want to suck my dick or let me finger her in a hallway. I don’t need you for that. You’re just here.”
She thinks about this for a few seconds and then stands up. “OK.” She smiles. “I’ll leave you alone then.”
“What?”
She walks to the stairs, puts one hand on the banister, and then turns and speaks calmly. “You’re nice-looking. You’re smart and wealthy, well-bred, maybe. And I feel indebted to you. But you’re also very rude. And I’m not a worthless person. Maybe I’ve got a lot of problems and pretty much everything is going wrong for me right now, but I’m not worthless. So I won’t stay and allow you make yourself feel better by making me feel worse. I can dig myself out of whatever I’m into without you. It might not be as easy and it definitely won’t come with any promise of sexual fun. But I don’t mind. I probably deserve the hard road anyway. So if you want me to shut up and go away, I’m happy to do that for you.”
And then she does shut up and go away.
I sit here thinking it over for several minutes before I come to the conclusion that I have just been word-slapped by a girl who never raised her voice or used profanity.
Chapter Twelve
After about half an hour I hear her upstairs in the kitchen. She doesn’t make any unnecessary noise, not like she’s banging pots and pans on purpose, but somehow her movements sound different. And I know that it’s because she’s still upset with me. Occasionally she talks to the baby, or the baby fusses and cries. But that’s all I hear from above. No TV or music. Which is understandable, because all the entertainment things are hidden behind panels. She’d have no idea where to even look for them.
I’m still sitting on the couch thinking about this when I see her shadow standing at the top of the basement stairs. Our stairs are wide and open, so she casts a shadow all the way down the steps. I wait for her to descend, but she stands still, like she’s listening.
“Dinner’s ready,” she finally says in a normal and even tone. Like she knows I’m waiting for her to say something and she doesn’t need to raise her voice in order for me to hear.
Or maybe she’s hoping I don’t hear her and I just stay down here and let her eat in peace. I don’t answer her and she waits there for a few seconds before going back to the kitchen.
I force myself to get up and climb the stairs, because fuck her. This is my fucking house. She catches my eye as I come up but I turn right into the hallway instead of walking directly into the kitchen. I clean up a little in the bathroom, then go into my bedroom and stand there and take it in. Modern, again. A low slat bed makes for an easy fall if the baby actually did roll off. It’s not quite futon height, but not much taller either. The bedding is dark blue, as are the walls. There’s a desk, a couple dressers, and some nightstands on either side of the bed. I have nothing on my walls. Nothing. I was very into emptiness as a teen. Minimalism. And this room is large, so all this furniture is not even close to being enough to fill it up. The floors are dark hardwood like the living room, but there’s a navy blue room-sized rug that covers almost the entire bare space.
Normally my room is spotless. I’m not a freak about neatness, but I like my things orderly.
Right now my room looks like a completely disheveled person lives here. And her name is Ashleigh. All her baby crap is everywhere, her bag of used clothes strewn about the floor, and a few of my things are thrown in there for good measure. I go to my closet and pull down a faded blue t-shirt that says What happens on the mountain stays on the mountain and a pair of faded jeans. They are a few years old and all
these clothes smell a little dusty, but they are clean enough for me at the moment. Better than a crunchy tux. I don’t bother with socks, just make my way to the kitchen.
Ashleigh’s sitting on the living room floor, spooning something into the baby’s mouth and making noises that might trick her into thinking that crap on the spoon is delicious. I check the dinner—it’s chicken and rice again. But what did I expect? That’s all I bought.
“Come sit at the table,” I say as I load up my plate and grab a beer.
“I’m feeding the baby some cereal,” she calls back.
“I’m not sure how that matters. Come sit at the table.”
“It matters because she’s not big enough to sit in a chair and I don’t want her carrier on the table.”
Round one to Ashleigh. I guess that makes sense. I take my plate and drink to the coffee table and sit on the couch next to her. Her plate of food is on the coffee table as well, but it’s not been touched. “Tired of chicken and rice already?” I take a bit of mine and then point to her plate with my fork.
She ignores me and just continues to offer the baby some of that goop she’s calling food.
“Want to watch TV?” I ask.
“There is no TV.”
I knew that would get an answer. I get up and open a drawer on the far side of the living room built-ins and remove the remote, then sit back down and mess with a few buttons. The wall panel in front of us slides up and the flat-screen turns on.
“Well, that’s ostentatious,” she says dryly.
I point the remote at her. “Love that word, and the TV panel is a bit flashy, but still cool.” I hand the remote over to her. “I’ll put on hockey, so if you like hockey, I’m happy to man the remote. If not, you better choose.”
She finally looks over at me, confused. “Since when does a man give up control of the remote?”
I study her for a moment, wondering how old she really is. I pegged her at twenty back at the hotel, but she acts more mature than that. She’s small, so that makes her look young, and she’s stranded with pretty much nothing in the way of resources, so that makes her appear vulnerable. But she’s got a worldliness about her. Like she’s seen things. Like she’s seen things that change people overnight. She doesn’t seem to be worried about her predicament with me. She’s not acting afraid of me or upset at being stuck here with a stranger, instead of on her way to wherever it was she was headed. She’s pretty much made herself at home. “I hate TV,” I finally reply. “I only watch hockey and an occasional stock report. The Market’s closed and the Aves aren’t playing tonight, so I really don’t give a fuck what I watch.”