Dirty Obsession

by Ella Miles

  Not likely.

  I scoop up her dress off the sand and hand it to her. I pull up my pants and grab my shirt and beer, and then we both start running toward the parking lot.

  I don’t know why we are both running like the police are going to come arrest us. From a distance, we look plenty clothed for the beach. She’s wearing her bra and panties that could easily be mistaken for a bikini, and I’m wearing shorts. But, still, we run like we are running for our lives.

  When we get to the parking lot, I don’t give her the chance to go back to her car. Actually, I don’t even see her car in the parking lot. Instead, I pull her straight to my truck. I open the passenger door and help her inside before running around to the driver’s side and jumping in. I turn the key to start the truck up, but of course, it doesn’t start.

  “Shit,” I curse.

  I jump out of the car and bang the top of the hood. It still doesn’t start.

  “Shit, shit, shit.”

  Sloane rolls down the window. “It sounds like a problem with the starter. Have you checked the wires?”

  I don’t question how she knows so much about cars. Of course I’ve tried it before. I’ve had plenty of experience with getting cars to start. But I humor her and try it anyway. To my surprise, it starts right up.

  I jump back into the truck and peel out of the parking lot. I start heading back toward my shack on the beach just as the sirens begin to get loud enough that I’m sure they are right on top of us. I glance in the rearview mirror and see the police heading into the parking lot we just vacated.

  Sloane laughs and exhales at the same time. It’s a nervous laugh, more like a release after the tense moment we just had. She begins to put her dress back on and then buckles her seat belt as I drive.

  “I’m sure the police weren’t after us,” she says.

  “Maybe,” I say, trying not to lie. I’m sure they were after us. Or at least me.

  “Still, it was exciting nonetheless.” She dusts off sand from her body. “I’m going to be getting sand out of places for weeks.”

  I laugh and relax a little, watching her try to dust off sand out of her hair and body but to no avail.

  “It’s not funny,” she says with a smile. “You should look at yourself. It’s going to take you at least as long to get rid of all the sand.”

  “What makes you think I want to get rid of the sand? I live at the beach, and every time the sand rubs against my skin, I’ll have a reminder of how I made you mine, if only for a few minutes on the beach.”

  She blushes a little, and it’s the most adorable thing in the world. I take her hand and hold it, like we have been together forever. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world to do. And, to my surprise, she seems to relax.

  “Where did you park your car? I can take you back to it if you want or take you home or…”

  “I want to stay at your place tonight. I can’t face my family at my condo. Or Wes. I think you owe me enough to let me spend one night with you.”

  I grin. “You’re welcome to stay at my place for as long as you like.”

  What the hell has happened to me? I don’t say things like that. I don’t let women stay for as long as they want. I call the shots.

  “Just remember that my place doesn’t have as nice of amenities as you are used to.”

  She cocks her head to one side. “The shack I stayed in is your only place?”

  I nod.

  She smiles. “Really? It’s your only place? You make who knows how much money with your sponsorships and championship winnings, and you don’t have a nicer place than that shack and this beat-up truck that doesn’t even run properly.”

  “Yep.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I have realized that possessions don’t make me happy. Even when…”

  “Even when what?”

  “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. I just realized that I was happier in a shack on the beach with awesome sunsets than a large mansion with lots of rooms.”

  She smiles. “I prefer the mansions.”

  I laugh. “Well, good thing we aren’t getting married then or doing anything beyond tonight. We would make a terrible couple. We have nothing in common.”

  “You’re right. We would be miserable together.”

  “Yep. Miserable.”

  I turn left onto the gravel road leading toward my shack. “Last chance. I can always take you to a hotel to stay at tonight if you prefer.” Although that is the last fucking thing I want. I want her in my bed, shower, couch. I want to claim her in every inch of my shack if this is our last night together.

  “I think I can handle the shack for one night.”

  I exhale deeply as I relax, knowing that I get to have her at least one more time. Or a dozen times if I get my way tonight.

  I pull up next to my shack of a house and turn off the engine. Then, I hop down out of my truck and run over to Sloane’s side of the car to open the door, like the gentleman that I am. I hold my hand out to her to help her down. Her dress is still undone, barely hanging on to her body, as she begins walking toward the front door.

  “The door is unlocked, so just go on in. I need to get my surfboard out of the truck.”

  “You don’t keep your front door locked?”

  “No. Why would I?”

  She smiles and then walks into my home. I hurriedly take my surfboard out of the truck and rest it on the rack to keep it out of the elements in case it rains, as it does so often here in the early summer. And then I run inside to find Sloane.

  I open the door and find Sloane already completely naked, standing in my living room/bedroom—depending on how you look at it since I really only have one large room that is everything.

  She turns and grins at me before she nibbles on her finger. “Your mouth is hanging open,” she says, her smile widening.

  I instantly close my mouth. “I’m sorry. You are just so incredible.”

  My eyes go up and down her body, drinking in every drop of her that I felt beneath me earlier but never got to fully appreciate.

  “I was going to shower to get cleaned up, but you don’t seem to have a shower or bathroom of any type.”

  I laugh. “I have a shower and bathroom. It’s just outside. But I might demand payment in order for you to use it.” I take a step forward.

  She grins widely and cocks her head to one side. “And if I don’t want to give you payment?”

  “Then, I guess you are going to have to stay dirty.”

  She bites her lip as I walk closer, wishing that lip were in my mouth.

  “What kind of payment do you have in mind? Because I do like things dirty,” she says with a twinkle in her eye.

  “Dirty, it is then,” I say.

  I slip out of my shorts, and I walk over to my dresser where I keep a stash of condoms. I grab one and then walk straight to Sloane before throwing her over my shoulder. Then, I head out to the outdoor shower. I don’t put her down until we are both in the shower, and then I flick the water on, drenching us both with cold water that I know better than anyone is going to take at least ten minutes before it resembles anything close to lukewarm.

  I’m used to it, but Sloane screams as the cold water rains down on us. I kiss her, knowing that is the best way to warm her up. We both forget about the cold water as my hands are finally able to grab her bare breasts. As we are finally together, completely naked, skin on skin. If the beach was perfection, being with her now in the water is magical.

  “I need you inside me—now. I know I just had you, but now that I’ve had a taste of you, I want you more than I did before,” she says.

  I grin. “But I haven’t had a taste of you yet.”

  I lift her up and press her back against the wall so that I can bury my head in her pussy. She grabs hold of my head, encouraging me to keep at it. To fuck her with my mouth, my tongue. To make her scream, to make her come. She comes quickly with the flick of my tongue and the cold water pounding down on top of
her.

  I lower her and then flip her around so that her back is to me before I enter her.

  “Yes, Asher!”

  I don’t last long inside her. And, somehow, she manages to come again and again as I thrust inside her. When we have both come and there is nothing left but the water pouring down over us, I reach for the soap to attempt to get the sand properly off of us. I know, realistically, it is going to take days to get it off, and if she decides to spend her next few days mostly at the beach, like I do, she is never going to be able to fully get rid of the sand.

  I take the bar of soap and start slowly moving it over her body, washing her. Getting to know every inch of her skin, the smell of her hair, the curves of her body. She doesn’t say a word as I do so. She just lets me take care of her, and it seems more intimate than any other time we have had together.

  When I have touched every part of her body with the bar of soap, she takes it from my hand and does the same to me. Our eyes are locked. When she finishes, she shivers.

  “Does the water ever warm up?” she asks to give a reason for her shiver.

  I know her shiver has more to do with our intimate moment than with the cold water.

  “Not really,” I say.

  She nods and then swallows hard so that I can see her throat moving. I imagine my cock down her throat, and my dick instantly becomes hard.

  When my eyes go back to hers, I see something different there. More serious than before.

  “Marry me,” she says.

  My whole world stops. I can’t breathe, and I’m afraid my heart has stopped.

  “Marry me.”

  Two words that I never thought I would hear or ever say to any woman.

  But this woman is different. Sloane is different, so I know, when she says those two words, there is more to this story than I understand. She didn’t preface it by saying she loved me, which there is no way for her to have fallen in love with me so quickly. She’s not like the other girls. That isn’t what she wants. She has a reason for asking me that she just hasn’t told me yet.

  I surprise myself by even considering saying yes, but it could get me more sex and a chance to really destroy her later if I decide I want to.

  She thinks I’m predictable. She hates surprises, or so she says, but that just makes me want to surprise her even more.

  So, I say the one word that I know will shock her the most, “Yes.”

  He said yes.

  I don’t think I can believe that word. He just said it to shock me. I know him well enough to know that. I know he doesn’t want to get married—ever. I just asked him because I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I needed to ask. I need him to know the truth.

  “Yes? That’s your answer? Just like that? You don’t even want to have a discussion about it or ask why I am proposing marriage when, only hours ago, I was engaged and going to get married to another man the next day.”

  He grins.

  Damn it, I hate his grin. It makes me do things I never thought I would. It makes me feel things I shouldn’t. Asher is a dick, an asshole. I have to remember that above everything else. I have to stay strong and not let him influence me. This is just an arrangement to solve my problem, nothing more. That’s what I have to convince him of anyway. Even if my heart flutters much too fast anytime I am around him.

  “I’m sure I’ll figure out why you want me to marry you soon enough. I know enough about you to know that there is a very clear reason why. And I know that reason has nothing to do with love. But at least it gives me another shot at fucking you in the shower, on the beach, and on every inch of this place and yours before we are through.”

  Damn it.

  He grins again, and all I can think about is how much I want him to fuck me in his bed, my bed, and every other surface that we can come across. And I hate him for making me want him when I should still be in love with Wes.

  He turns off the water that never really got warm and then hands me a towel from the rack that is just outside the shower. Our fingers brush against each other. And I can see in his eyes how much he wants to dry me off but doesn’t want to overstep his bounds. He thinks he’s pushed his luck already by washing me. And he’s probably right. I need to dry myself off and gain some control over my life again. Especially if we are going to have any sort of serious conversation instead of jumping each other again for the third time in an hour.

  I take the towel and quickly dry off before wrapping it around my body. Asher does the same, and then we head back inside his home. I’m still not sure I believe him when he says this is his only place. It can’t be. He says he doesn’t lie, but I don’t imagine he stays here year-round. He uses this place when he is surfing and wants to be near the beach. Or when he’s trying to get rid of his latest one-night stand. But this can’t be where he spends most of his time. There simply isn’t enough room.

  I take a seat on what he calls a couch. Although I don’t think it can be considered a couch. It’s barely held together. There are no longer any legs on the bottom, the stuffing has settled so that there is a hole in the middle, and the fabric covering it is worn and contains mostly holes.

  Asher goes over to his dresser and pulls out a pair of boxer shorts and a T-shirt. He tosses them both to me and then pulls out another pair of boxer shorts. He drops his towel like I’m not even here and begins to put the boxer shorts on.

  I look down at the clothes he just tossed to me. They would be much more comfortable to wear than my dress I came here in, and I can’t stay in this towel forever. But it just seems too intimate to be wearing his clothing.

  “What? Don’t tell me you’re getting shy on me now,” Asher says, raising an eyebrow.

  I stand and drop my towel to the ground, showing my naked body to him. I’m not the least bit concerned with what he thinks of me or my body. And then I put the clothes on that he tossed to me. I try not to smell his scent on them. I try not to seem affected.

  Asher comes over and takes a seat next to me, not seeming the least bit concerned about why I asked him to marry him. Or what our future holds. He slings his arm over the back of the couch.

  I smile. I can’t help it when his hand grazes the back of my neck.

  “So, let’s hear it. I know you are dying to tell me and to get everything straightened out. I can see it in your eyes. You want to talk about us getting married,” he says.

  I take a deep breath. “I do.”

  We chuckle, both a bit nervous.

  “Well?” he asks.

  “I have to get married,” I say.

  He chuckles. “I doubt that. You seem more than independent enough, and I know you don’t need a man to keep you company. And you are more than capable of making enough money on your own; therefore, you don’t need a man to take care of you either. And I know calling off the wedding must be embarrassing, but your family and friends will get over it soon enough. So, why in the world would you have to get married?”

  I frown. “Fine. I don’t have to get married. But I have a proposition for you. Marry me for one year. It will help me ease the embarrassment of turning down Wes. I could say we used to date years ago and rekindled our love when I found out Wes was really an ass. The company and I could really use some good press. We’ve been struggling to get new donors, and as sexist as it is, the company will get more donations if I have a man by my side. The press thinks I’m going to die alone. They are already comparing me to my grandmother, who spent most of her life living with just her cats.”

  Asher laughs. “You’re serious.”

  I nod.

  “You want me to marry you to save face?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what do I get out of all of this?”

  I think for a moment. “A chance to become a better person instead of a thief who tries to steal women who are already taken.”

  He frowns, and I can see that it’s not enough.

  “And you can teach me how to live again. How to enjoy life and be a bit of a wild child
again instead of the uptight snob I currently am.”

  Asher chuckles again. “You, a wild child? I don’t believe it’s possible for you to have been anything but the perfect child growing up.”

  I shake my head. “Well then, you’d be wrong. I was a complete wild child, always getting into trouble. Trust me.”

  “I doubt you were a true wild child. I imagine your parents thought that because you wouldn’t eat your vegetables or something silly like that.”

  “No, it was much worse than that. Anyway, my grandmother was the one who convinced me that I shouldn’t continue my wild ways into adulthood. She gave me a job at the company, and I finally realized my purpose. I worked my way up the company, almost the same as anyone else. Although I know I was given an easier time than most since I was related to my grandmother.”

  “Why would I want to help you? I still don’t see anything in this for me.”

  “Money then. I’ll pay you. You could actually live in a nice place on the beach.”

  He grins. “Sweetheart, you forget that I make plenty of money. And I prefer living this way.”

  “That’s not what I’ve heard. I’ve heard that your sponsors are starting to drop out because of a certain reputation you have with the ladies. They think it’s inappropriate to work with someone like you. So, being married might help your reputation and help you make more money.”

  He shakes his head. “Again, like I said, I don’t need any more money.”

  But I can see that he is at least thinking about what I said. I’ve struck a nerve, but it’s still not enough.

  I look around the room he calls home. I doubt he’s telling me the full story about this. But I can see I’m getting nowhere.

  His eyes drop to my chest to see my nipples harden as a cold draft slips through. Now, it’s my turn to grin because I know the way to get what I want.

  “Sex. You can have all the dirty, filthy sex with me you want.”

  His eyes perk up as he listens. And I can see the bulge in his boxers grow.

  “Did you ever love Wes?”

  His question surprises me.

  “Love is a strange word. I loved him, sure. But was I in love with him? No, I don’t think so. I would have ended it much sooner if I wasn’t so much of a planner that I wanted to be married by twenty-five and have two kids by the time I was thirty.”