“Oh my God,” I said, and busted out in a laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m quite serious,” he said, glancing down at his bulging crotch.
I rubbed my hand on Ashton’s thigh. “Later, I will kiss it and make it all better.”
“Well, that shall not help things at the moment,” he said in a teasing tone.
We purchased trinkets in Chinatown. I was mesmerized, watching Ashton dicker over a gold hair comb that was exquisite with jade inlayed within the scrolling flowers of the design. He of course was victorious, winning out in the heated negotiations. He placed the comb into my windblown tresses.
“Thank you. This is beautiful,” I said, touching the comb then bouncing up on my tip toes to give him a peck.
Ashton lifted me up, allowing us a better lip lock before we moved on.
Next stop, Trafalgar Square, where we stood, looking up, neck-cricking up, at Nelson’s column. Ashton reached and caught some of my hair that had escaped my comb before the breeze could blow the stray pieces into my face. He tucked them behind my ear. I slipped my hand into Ashton’s coat pocket, scooting in close as people hurried past us.
“Ashton, take a picture so I can email this to Bentley.”
“Anything you wish, my lady,” he said, and snapped a picture of the column.
We moved on to the National Gallery. Once inside, I stared almost open mouthed, still tucked up against Ashton as my safety. He was my talisman against the fear that tried to creep in when people, a lot of people, passed.
“Oh my,” I uttered as I gazed upon paintings by van Gogh, Renoir, Leonardo da Vinci and Claude Monet.
“Are you happy, my dove?” Ashton asked.
“Yes, I could never imagine seeing such things, Ashton. Thank you for taking me here.”
“My love, I would take you anywhere you wished.”
We meandered through the gallery and kissed along our way.
“I believe we still have time for one more stop,” Ashton said on our way out of the gallery.
Our stop. St. Martin-in-the-Fields parish church. I gazed at the lines of the architecture before resting my attention upon the large white steeple.
“This was built in 1721 by James Gibbs. It was used as a model for many churches, especially in the United States,” Ashton commented.
“Yes, I know.”
One of Ashton’s eyebrows rose in question. “You do?”
“I read about this church in some of my father’s architectural books. I cannot believe I’m standing here, looking at it.”
Ashton smiled tenderly then traced his fingertip along my jaw line.
“You know quite a bit about architecture, am I correct?”
“Some,” I replied. “Do you think we could sit on the steps?”
“Come.” Ashton tugged me by the hand, up the steps. “Take a seat.”
I sat on the steps of the church, wondering at my life, and looking at the man I loved without doubt. I marveled at him.
“Ashton, I love you.”
He brushed his mouth against mine. “I love you too, my beautiful wife.”
“Thank you for today. I never imagined I would ever be here or that I could even find the courage to be here.”
“Trinity, you honor me by your strength, by your trust, and by your courage.”
****
I was happy for two things: the dividing glass in the limousine and the blacked out windows that kept us secluded. I’d lost myself on the drive back to the Archer estate with my leg swung over Ashton’s leg, my hands fondling his stomach, and finding my mouth planted firmly upon his.
“Good God,” Ashton groaned, “you make me burn.” He licked my throat.
“I know what you mean,” I replied.
Ashton heaved me up so I was straddling him.
“I love when you do that. When you just pick me up.”
Ashton smiled wickedly at my confession. He unbuttoned my shirt, cupped a breast then shifted the lace upon my bra before his lips took possession of my nipple. I moaned. He licked, sucked, and squeezed until I found myself losing control.
“Ashton, I have to have you. Let me suck your cock.”
“We are almost home,” he said.
“Please,” I begged as I slithered down his body.
“My love, we are heading up the drive, we do not have the time.”
I sighed, sweeping back a curl from my face.
“Then when we get inside, come to my room.”
“My love, you need to change your clothes. I am taking you to meet Thaddeus tonight.”
“Are you really going to make we wait?”
“All good things come to those who wait, my dove.”
I pouted, reseated myself, and buttoned my shirt. I’m also fairly sure I pouted while exiting the car, and all the way to my sleeping chamber, while Ashton smiled. Standing at the door to my room, I tried again.
“Come on,” I said, “we can make it quick.”
Ashton tapped the tip of my nose. “Later,” he said with a chuckle. “I promise you can have any part of me you wish, but for now we must dress, I do not wish to be late.”
“Okay,” I conceded, and walked into the room.
“Bloody fantastic jeans,” Ashton said. I giggled.
****
I put on the dress Amelia said would be good for clubbing, along with extremely tall spiked heels. Underneath the dress, I wore sheer silk stockings, the kind with the seam running up the back of my leg, held up by silk garters. I pulled my hair up, exposing my neck and allowing a few curls to fall provocatively around my face. Around my neck hung a sapphire choker necklace that matched the long dangling sapphire earrings. I touched up my eye shadow, applied some red shiny lip gloss, gave one last look in the mirror, and headed for Ashton’s sleeping chambers.
I passed door after door until I came to the door I wanted. Ashton’s room. I knocked…
He opened his door, and I dropped my jaw. He was wearing black leather pants that hugged him quite nicely in all the right places. I brought my gaze up the length of his body to see a black silky shirt, the top five button’s undone, showing off a black corded necklace with a silver charm of his family crest. Ashton’s chocolate colored hair looked tousled, and in the light his eyes took on the color of pure white. My husband looked like sex on a stick.
I wanted him. Hungered for him. “You-you-you … look delicious.”
“I am pleased you think such, however, allow me to return the compliment with all assurance. You are delectable, my love.”
Chapter Ten
Thaddeus Barrington.
I was clutching Ashton’s arm as we entered the club. Even though it was a Thursday night, it was packed with a line of people that extended down the block and rounded a corner. The music bumped, causing the floor beneath my feet to shimmy. Lights flashed, keeping time to the beat. The club had a distinct Moroccan feel, but modern. The light fixtures where designed as dragon’s claws and some were golden snakes, which seemed to be uncoiling and holding spiked bulbs within their fang-filled mouths.
“Lord Archer,” the large, scary, tattooed and pierced man at the inside door greeted. “You are expected. Go on in.”
If this was the foyer, I wondered what the rest of the club looked like.
We entered in through another set of doors. I saw the massive bar. It was cut in the shape of a long undulating wave of cobalt blue. There was more than one dance floor. People everywhere. Ashton wrapped his arm around my waist, tucking me into him as we walked forward, weaving through the crowd with a purpose.
“Archer!” a man yelled.
“Barrington!” Ashton returned.
The music was blasting. Laser lights danced over the silver walls, sending them into psychedelic rainbows reflecting back from the surface.
“Follow me,” said Barrington, yelling over the thumping beat.
The three of us weaved through a sea of people over to a secluded section. Well, as secluded as this jam-packed club could b
e anyway. In front of me was a u-shaped lounger, bolstered and upholstered in blood red crushed velvet. In the middle of the u sat a black table, with an uncoiling snake light hanging overhead. Ashton helped me with my coat.
“Good God, Trinity, this dress is fabulous,” he complimented into my ear.
The back of the dress was pretty much nonexistent and exposed a lot of flesh. I felt Ashton’s hand on the bareness at the small of my back. I gazed down. The front of the dress shined shades of chrome metallic, shifting into cobalt blue within the flickering light.
I took a seat. Ashton sat beside me and placed his left hand in between my shoulder blades before noticing the temptation of my uncovered thigh. Once he saw it, he dropped his hand to my thigh, sliding his palm up to the silky garter. I was pretty sure I heard bloody hell escape from his lips.
“I shall return momentarily,” Barrington said.
Ashton’s fingers located the garter; he strummed it.
“Trinity,” he said, leaning in close to my face, “you truly make me burn. I wish to escort you to the back room, lock the door, and watch you remove this dress.”
“You only wish for me to lose the dress?”
“I wish to see those garters adorned upon your flesh.”
“And?”
“I wish to gaze upon your perfection as you take my cock into your fantastic mouth.”
“Why, my lord, you are a wicked, wicked man,” I teased.
Ashton hit me with his piercing ice white gaze. “Indeed.”
I kissed his lips. “All good things come to those who wait, remember?”
“My little minx.” He groaned. “You taste of cherries.”
“My lip gloss.” I slid my hand up his leather-clad thigh before walking my fingertips along his collarbone. I honed in on the charm that dangled from the end of the cord, not seeing the crest but… “My name,” I uttered, picking up the charm. “You had my name engraved on the back of your crest?”
Ashton shot me with an impish grin. “Yes, my dove.”
I gazed into his eyes, taken back for a moment.
“So that’s what you dropped off then picked up from that street vendor this afternoon?”
“Yes.”
“I hope you still like Chateau Le Pin Pomerol, Archer.”
Barrington was back with two bottles of wine in hand.
“Of course,” said Ashton.
I studied Barrington, curious to see the man that Ashton held in such high regard. I suppose he was handsome in a roguish way. He had dark green eyes, with midnight black hair that he wore in an unkempt state around his face. It was long enough that he could pull it back into a ponytail if he wished, but tonight it wound around his chiseled cheekbones. He hadn’t shaved, his face dark with stubble, offset by a white silk shirt, which he wore unbuttoned. I imagined this was done for effect since it allowed his obviously muscled chest to show. But the one thing that really stood out was his handmade, hand-stitched, black leather pants with the worn thighs. While they looked old, I knew enough to know those pants were several thousand dollars worth of fashion.
When someone tapped Barrington on his shoulder he turned his attention behind him. It was then I noticed his wrist. Around it, he wore a black leather band with something like barbed wire imprinted into the leather, and just inside his right forearm was a tattoo of a highly stylized chess piece. A pawn.
“I have food coming,” Barrington said with a smile before sitting across from Ashton.
He had a pretty smile, nice teeth. I could image Ashton and Barrington together, causing quite a stir, especially among the ladies.
“Damn, it is good to see you, Archer.”
They pounded fists instead of a formal handshake.
“As well you, Barrington. It has been too long.”
Barrington’s gaze turned to me.
“Archer, are you going to introduce me to this lovely creature, who for some reason finds you attractive?”
Ashton laughed. “Barrington, this is my fiancée, Trinity Winslow,” he said before shifting his attention to me. “Trinity, this is my old school chum, Thaddeus Barrington.”
“I am pleased to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Ashton.”
“I am enraptured,” Barrington said, placing his hand to his heart, making a pounding gesture. “And I am jealous. Are you positive you wish to marry this bastard? We could tie him up in the back room and run off together.”
Barrington was also a flirt.
“The only reason I am not trouncing you right now is sitting next to me,” Ashton said with a laugh. “So you owe me a debt of gratitude for my restraint.”
“I will show you much gratitude when she decides I am the more attractive bloke and runs off with me,” Barrington quipped.
“I appreciate the offer, Thaddeus, but I have found the man of my dreams.” I placed a kiss on Ashton’s mouth.
“Who’s the bastard now?” Ashton said with a mock smirk toward Barrington.
Barrington flipped him the bird. Ashton chuckled darkly.
I wiped the smudge of my lip gloss from Ashton’s lips, and knew without doubt these two were actually close friends.
“Good God, where is Angelia with the food?” said Barrington. “Give me a moment.” He excused himself from the table.
“This is an excellent song; would you care to dance dirty with me?” Ashton asked.
“Why, my lord, are you hitting on me?”
“I am.”
I took Ashton’s hand. “But, what about Barrington?”
“He can find his own woman. You are mine,” said Ashton with a wicked smile.
I snuggled up into Ashton’s side, having a hard time getting onto the dance floor. There were so many people, but I closed my eyes and allowed Ashton to lead me. Once we were on the dance floor, he took me in his arms. I was safe. I took a breath, opened my eyes, and looked into his face. The flashing lights made interesting patterns across the high set of his cheekbones. His eyes caught me and held me.
Ashton’s hand rested on the lowest part of my back. He pulled me into his body. Ashton’s knee went between my legs while his other hand rode the outside of my thigh. I placed one hand to his chest, and the other hand just above his lovely ass. Then I found the rhythm. It bumped through me. Soon, I’d forgotten about the crowds. My hand weaved over Ashton’s arms and chest. My hips met his sway. We were dancing dirty.
“So, you know LMFAO with Lil Jon?” I inquired, talking into Ashton ear, surprised Ashton wanted to dance to this song.
“Indeed. Shots has a excellent beat, and I must admit I did have an ulterior motive.”
“Really?”
“I knew you would shake your sweetness to this song, and I wanted to watch your body move.”
I giggled, giving Ashton what he wanted.
Three dances later, Ashton walked behind me, his manhood pressing against my ass, and his arms around my waist as we made our way back to the table.
“Bloody hell, Ashton. I had to adjust my shaft watching you two dance,” Barrington said with a wicked smirk.
“Sod off,” Ashton replied.
Once we were all settled at the table Ashton and Barrington dove into the food with wild abandon. There were like two frat boys or at least what I imagined frat boys to be. I was totally engrossed, watching them eat and listening to them talk.
“Wine?” Barrington offered.
“Sure,” I said, not wanting to be rude.
I glanced up to see a beautiful woman with long flowing honey colored hair, wearing what had to be a handkerchief for a shirt, standing at our table. She was within an exhale of exposing her large breasts, and I’m not sure her short skirt was any better. Long, tan legs met a barely covered ass. Around her ankle was a tattoo of a serpent that wound its way up her muscled calf.
“My Lords,” she said. “Fancy meeting you two here.”
Immediately I bristled and placed my hand onto Ashton’s thigh in an unmistakable sign of possession.
Barrington smiled wickedly. “Ah … how are you, my delectable Cherry.”
Cherry? I just bet.
Cherry gave a pouting giggle. Her hand made its way to Barrington’s shoulder. “I am more than fine, Lord Barrington.”
“Yes,” Barrington agreed.
Cherry cut her gaze to Ashton, and without any restraint her denim blue eyes scanned his body while she licked her full lips.
“And you, Lord Archer. How have you been?”
“Very well,” Ashton said, saying nothing more.
“Lord Barrington, are the rumors true?” Cherry asked, returning her attention to him.
“Rumors about me tend to be true, I am afraid, but which rumor do you speak of, my lovely lady?”
Lady? More like a hussy.
Ashton brushed his fingers along the nape of my neck.
“That you own this club, my lord?”
“Ah … yes, well, to my father’s great consternation that particular rumor would indeed be true.”
“Excellent,” Cherry replied, turning her blazing blue eyes back to Ashton. “My Lord, you know how to dance.”
Cherry’s eyes seemed to rest upon Ashton’s crotch. I lost my composure.
“Cherry, is it?” I snapped out.
“Yes,” Cherry said. She set my feathers to ruffle.
I ran my hand up Ashton’s thigh, taking him. Hand placed firmly onto his leather-covered crotch.
“So we are not mistaken here, Cherry. This is all mine, so you can remove your eyes from my man’s cock!”
“Bloody hell,” Ashton muttered.
Ashton straightened up in the seat when I gripped.
Barrington busted out in a deep chortle. Cherry kept on smiling.
“Are we clear?” I asked. Eyes narrowing.
“You are a lucky man, my lord,” Cherry said to Ashton. “You found a woman with some fire.”
“Yes, I am well aware,” Ashton said, taking my hand and interlocking his fingers with mine, removing it from his manhood.
“Cherry,” Barrington said, “it was good to see you again.”
“Yes, my lord, perhaps we shall run into each other again sometime.”
“Perhaps,” Barrington returned, standing up to escort Cherry to the bar.
Once they left I became aware of the fury running through my veins. I turned my head to look at Ashton, imagining my green eyes blazing fire. I set my chin and wondered if I were the correct incarnation of the green-eyed monster, but in this moment I didn’t care. I wanted an explanation for Cherry.
The Good Sister: Part Two Page 12