by Emme Rollins
Jesus, he felt so stupid. How cliché. Trixie looked at him like he was crazy, and maybe he was. He continued, not leaving her a second with which to interrupt him.
“You must think I’m an idiot and a jerk for telling you about the tour like that, but I’m really sorry and I never meant to hurt you. I only want you.”
“Oh yeah?” Trixie’s lips twisted. “What about Tweedledee and Tweedleditz?”
Asher flushed. “Julian set me up with them. He was trying to force me to get over breaking up with Donna.”
“I bet you really protested,” Trixie said. Her voice was trembling. “They had to drag you kicking and screaming into bed. What, did you think that because I wasn’t some rail-thin blonde beauty that I’d jump all over myself to get with you? Huh?”
“That’s not—”
“That I would just kill myself to sleep with some famous drummer?” Tears welled up in her eyes, and she wiped them away angrily.
“No! Trixie, please. Just let me explain.”
“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms. “Explain.”
“I’m not really into that type of girl,” he said, his hands outstretched.
“You just dated one and then fucked two more last night for the hell of it. Right.” Trixie’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “But seriously, tell me something. Why on earth would you be crawling over here trying to get me into bed? Why don’t you just go find another Barbie doll to fuck? Maybe triplets this time?”
“I don’t want to,” he said. How could he make her believe him?
“Why not?”
“Trixie—”
“Serious question. I’m being one hundred percent serious. Why not another groupie chick who models on the side? Another perfect ten?”
“Honestly?” Asher asked.
“Honestly.”
“Because…” How could he explain? “Because you’re right. They’re Barbies. They’re all the same. They just lie there, like it’s some kind of privilege to be able to fuck them. It’s boring. It’s stupid. It’s never any fun with someone like that, because it’s always safe and predictable.”
“You mean the sex,” she said.
“The sex, the conversation, everything. But yeah, especially the sex.” He flushed, feeling himself slipping into rambling mode, but he couldn’t stop himself. If she wanted to throw him out, she could, but he was going to tell her what he thought first.
“Sex with one of those girls is always vanilla. Worse than vanilla, because at least vanilla has some flavor. It’s like…unflavored, sugar-free soy.”
Trixie smiled a bit at that, raising her hand to cover her mouth, and a flicker of hope kindled inside of him.
“I want more than that. Look, I have no idea if like, that song you sung, if that was for real. But if it is, I don’t know. I just feel like there’s something between us.” He stepped forward, his feelings completely overtaking him, and brushed her hair back with his hand to cup her face, his other hand grabbing her hip. To his surprise, she didn’t reel backwards. “I want to explore it more. I want to explore it with you. Do bad things to you. Let you do bad things to me. Go crazy. Whatever.”
She looked up at him, her eyes glistening.
“Okay,” she said. It was a whisper of a word.
“Okay?”
Asher paused, unsure if he had heard her correctly. He’d half expected her to break her guitar on top of his head.
“Yeah,” she said, her voice gaining power with every word. “Okay. I’d like that.”
Asher’s hand was on her cheek, his other arm at her waist, pulling her towards him. To her own surprise, she let him. There was something in the desperation of his words that told her what she needed to know: that he was being truthful.
“Okay,” she said, and meant more than just that. “I’d like that.”
Asher’s lips crashed into hers, as though he had fallen forward and was taking her along with him. A twist of desire shot through her body as he kissed her deep, hard, biting her lip and shoving her up against the wall. It was a good thing the studio walls were all padded with insulation, because the force of the impact left her breathless. She kissed him back, tentatively at first, but then more passionately as his hands ran over her dress, down her front, kneading her body in a wild abandon. His breath was hot on her neck, her lips.
“Jesus,” she breathed. His fingers ran through her hair and her scalp tingled, sending shivers down her nerves.
“Tell me you want this,” he said. He shifted his body and she could feel him through his jeans, his cock hard already and insistent, bulging through the fabric.
“I want this,” she said.
“You want me to do bad things to you?”
She looked up into Asher’s eyes, dark brown and twinkling. There was a note of mischief in his voice that belied the seriousness of the words, but she knew that this moment was something more to her than just sex. He wanted more, and she knew it. She wanted it too.
“Yes,” she said.
Immediately Asher slid his hand down the neckline of her dress and bent down, half-kneeling against the wall as he caressed her breast underneath her bra. His legs forced her legs apart and kept them pinned against the insulated padding as his fingers hooked into her bra and yanked it down just enough to expose her nipple.
There was a pause, and she looked down to see his mouth hovering just over her nipple. His breath tickled her skin.
“Yes,” she said, and he took the dark pink peak into his mouth, sucking it hard. The nub stiffened under his tongue, and she felt herself instantly go wet between her thighs.
Then the touch retreated, and she whimpered.
“More,” she begged.
Asher’s fingers grasped her by the chin and lifted her face upwards.
“Say please,” he said.
“Please—” she breathed. She had never wanted anything more in her life. “Please, oh god, yes, please—”
Asher’s mouth returned to her nipple to suck and she began a moan that turned into a yelp as his hand found her other nipple and pinched.
“Oh, fuck yes,” she said, her skin burning with nerve endings that fired at the ends of his fingertips. “Yes, ohh—”
The pinch turned into a twist and the fire raced through her body. She felt his tongue on her nipple like it was already on her clit. This, this was what she needed. The pain that shocked her body into intense pleasure, the agony of anticipating what was to come soon. Trixie reached down to touch herself, to bring herself closer to orgasm. Asher shocked her with a swat of his hand.
“Don’t touch. That’s for me.”
Trixie wriggled under his touch, reaching again in defiance. Quickly, without another word, he gripped her wrist and twisted it up over her head, pinning her to the wall. Her other hand came up to pull at his fingers and he grabbed it too, easily, both of her tiny arms raised over her head. She pressed her back against the wall to try to leverage herself out of his control, but he anticipated her motion.
It was incredible, how in control he was. Without any effort at all, his leg kicked hers to the side while she hung from his grasp, and then he was in between her thighs, his groin pressed against her most sensitive spot. He ground himself into her body, his lips against her neck. Her breath caught in her throat when he growled, slightly, his hard cock stroking her through her thin dress. Jesus, it felt like he was fucking her through their clothes. She was so close to coming. She arched against him, trying to deepen the pressure, and he grinned.
His free hand, the one not holding her wrists, moved alongside her hip, up to her exposed chest, massaging, groping.
“Asher—”
His hand gripped her throat, then, the fingers tightening just barely around her neck. She was immobilized, her body pinned like a butterfly to the padded wall, every part of her gripped by him, pressed by him, aching to come. His fingers clenched and her eyes widened in sudden fright at the feeling that he could do whatever he wanted to her and she could not stop
him if she wanted to.
He sensed the change in her breathing and paused, pulling back slightly. He bent his head down, his lips just brushing hers. His eyes were open, asking her Is this okay?
“Yes.” She did not say the word so much as force it out of her throat. Yes, yes, this is what she wanted. This is what she had always wanted.
Asher lowered his lips to her neck but before he reached her skin his head pulled away and she felt her wrists slipping from his grasp. He stepped backwards and she went to move toward him. He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back slightly, just enough to keep her from coming close to him
No. She couldn’t have been so mistaken. For a horrible second, she thought that this had all been a ruse, a joke. He hadn’t come here for her at all, he had come here to tease her and laugh at her and leave her. Shame raced through her body, and anger, her blood pumping hot in her veins.
“Asher—”
“Stay,” he whispered. She looked at him and saw an animal hunger in his eyes. He stepped back, his gaze locked on her, and sat down on her stool, shifting his pants slightly as he sat to avoid the pinch of fabric on his obviously bulging groin.
“Take off your clothes,” he said.
“I—”
“Don’t talk. Just undress for me.”
Trixie flushed hard. Usually guys wanted the lights out. They didn’t want to see her; they wanted only to fuck a soft wet thing. Asher’s eyes were all over her, though, taking in every inch of her body.
“Don’t wait. Take off your dress.” Asher had seemed so harmless before. Now there was a fire behind his eyes. It was a command.
She reached down to the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head in one swift motion, as though if she undressed slowly he would catch her off guard.
“Your bra.”
Trixie unhooked the straps of her bra and let them hang off of her shoulders, tickling her skin. She reached behind her back, her hair falling slightly in front of her face. He smiled. God, he smiled at her. She dropped the bra onto the floor and reached down to her waistline.
“Don’t.”
Trixie looked up, confused. She wanted to be naked, to draw him in and make him fuck her.
“Leave your panties on.”
He unzipped his pants then and began to stroke himself through his underwear. She could see the outline clearly. God, he was huge. A perfect dick. She wanted to suck it until it was soaking wet, and then she wanted to climb on top of him and ride him until she came screaming over the edge. She hadn’t touched herself since he had slapped her hand away.
“Dance for me.”
Trixie froze. Onstage she could dance just fine. She danced all the time in front of thousands of people, shaking her ass, throwing her arms around. But here, in front of one person, she was suddenly shy.
Asher sensed her hesitation.
“Face the wall,” he said.
She obeyed, cursing herself under her breath for her hesitation, for not wanting it enough. For being a bad girl. She hoped he would punish her.
“Hands on the wall,” he said. She placed her palms up against the padded gray wall and tried not to let herself think too hard about how she looked from behind. Whether her panties were beginning to ride up her ass. Could she blush on her ass?
“That’s right,” Asher said. Without even looking back over her shoulder she could tell that he was touching himself. It was something in his voice that did it, some dark throaty rumble at the base of his words that caught the edge of his sentence and flipped it over and made every word seem sexy. The volume of the music increased. He had turned it up.
“Now dance,” he said, and she did.
The music was slow, a blues song that made the whole room sway with the beat of it. The walls echoed with the music and she could not even hear her own breathing. She closed her eyes and the world turned dark and comforting. Her hips swiveled slowly at first, twisting imperceptibly, finding the rhythm of the music blindly in the darkness.
The music pushed ahead, the build angry and filled with tension. Her body gyrated, grinding down to her knees. Her hands caressed the wall like it was the chest of her lover, and she threw her hair back behind her. All of the violent energy, all of the impatient erotic desire that had built up inside of her, flowed out of her limbs and into the dance. She was wet. She ground her hips against the wall and moaned, her moan lost in the wail of the music.
Trixie’s hands slid up her hips, moving against her own curves, owning them. Her palms cupped her ass and she gripped the flesh hard, squeezing it tight, imagining that he was the one grabbing her.
All of a sudden his body pressed hers against the wall.
“Oh, Asher,” she groaned. She heard the frantic unzipping of his jeans being torn off, the crinkle of the condom wrapper, the shuffle of his feet as he kicked the music cables aside on the floor and pressed himself up against her ass, his cock hard and ready.
“Tell me how much you want me to fuck you.” His voice tore on the words.
One of his arms wrapped around her chest. His hand was on her throat, her breast. He lifted her weight off of her feet. She was helpless, she loved it, she was soaking wet.
“Fuck me,” she groaned. She had never wanted anything more than she wanted his cock right then. “Fuck me hard. I want it. I want it so bad. I want—”
He reached down and slid his fingers under her panties, hooking them around the fabric, yanking them to one side. She could feel his hot fingers against her wetness, and her body clenched involuntarily, aching to be filled.
“I’ve been wanting to do this to you from the second I saw you,” Asher whispered into her ear. The sheer want in his voice made her bristle with desire.
“Do what?” she asked, goading him on.
“Grab you. Kiss you. And now—”
The fabric of her panties scratched the side of her slit roughly, but then his cock was there, resting against the opening, pulsing hard. She twitched against him, her hips jerking back and down, wanting him to penetrate the center of her being.
“Now I’m going to break you.”
Trixie gasped as he thrust his cock forward into her slick opening. He was so big. She couldn’t possibly take it, no, no, there was no way. He was stretching her out, pushing her hard. Her cheek pressed against the fabric of the padded wall and she drew a ragged breath through her teeth.
“God, you’re so tight. You’re so beautiful.”
Warmth flooded her body, whether because of the new feeling of fulfillment or because of the compliment she did not know. All she knew was the thickness of his girth forcing itself deeper and deeper.
The music shifted rhythm, and Asher shifted with it, increasing the tempo and swaying both of their bodies. His cock worked its way farther and farther into her with every slow rock he gave. With each new wave, she felt the ache within her grow.
“Ohhh,” she moaned. Her fingers scraped the wall. “Please. Asher, please—”
“Good. You deserve something for that dance.”
Lips brushed the back of her neck, teeth gently biting her nape. Aching, impatient, her hips twitched backwards, impaling herself deeper on his cock. She wanted it all, wanted him to tear her to pieces.
Then his hand moved down to her belly, her thighs, sliding between those hot folds that felt as though they would burn. When he touched her there, she nearly came at the merest graze. He withdrew, and her hand slapped the wall in frustration.
“Not yet,” he said. “Not quite yet. Soon.”
“Oh god. Ohhhh.”
“You want it all?”
Trixie’s eyes widened in surprise as he thrust himself in, stretching her more. Nobody had filled her to such tightness before.
“Ohh! Yes,” she said through clenched teeth. “Yes, yes, please, oh, yes, Asher, I want it, I want it, I want you—”
Asher’s fingers pinched her flesh down where it was slick as he rocked into her fully, pushing her to her limit. Trixie’s body exploded
with pleasure, white flashes blinding her as he thrust again and again. She felt his cock hard, straining, and knew he was on the edge of his orgasm as well. When he slid his fingers into her, his palm heavy with pressure on her clit, she rode his hand over her edge and into ecstasy.
“OHHH!”
It had never been this good before, not with any guy Trixie had been in bed with. This—this was strange and wonderful and rough and god, she never wanted it to end. She screamed in orgasm and was muffled by his hand. He bit down her neck and groaned as he came along with her, shuddering his body against hers. Her thighs twitched again and again as he thrust once, twice, and then slowed.
The song’s last notes echoed through the room, the heartbeat of the drums finished. Silence filtered through the studio and left them breathing hard. Trixie could hear Asher’s pulse pounding through his chest, or maybe she just felt it against her skin. Every part of her tingled with pleasure, and the heat of Asher’s chest against her back was so comforting that for a minute she simply leaned there again the wall, catching her breath.
Then Asher withdrew, rebalancing on his feet away from her, and Trixie panicked—not consciously, but physically, her body rebelling against being left alone. Strange. She had always thought of herself as independent, not needing her boyfriends, but now she felt the gasping anxiousness of someone who just lost her footing and fallen into water above her head. She spun around and found him looking at her.
He stood guileless, naked, with a grin on his face that told her everything she needed to know. She flushed.
“So you do want me?” Asher asked.
Trixie lifted up her chin.
“I suppose I do,” she said.
Asher wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. His hands, so rough before, were suddenly gentle, as though he was cradling a glass figure in his arms instead of her. She felt as though she was made of glass. One high pitched note might make her shatter.