Loving Ashe

by Madrid, Liz

  A few minutes after takeoff, they all made a toast to friendship and love and a night of rock-and-roll before settling down in their respective seats. No one was willing to tell her their destination, though Riley had a suspicion they were going to a concert — why mention a night of rock-and-roll if they weren’t?

  “Are they your chaperones for the evening?” Riley asked, glancing at Ben and Lance, who were sitting towards the rear of the plane. “Because you just might need them, you know. I might attack you before the night is over.”

  “Then I’ll send them away so you can do just that,” Ashe said, reaching towards her to gently pinch her nose. “Actually, we’ll be meeting Lindsay and Melissa at the hotel.”

  “Who?”

  “Lindsay is Ben’s wife and Melissa is Lance’s fiancée,” Ashe said. “I’m sorry that this turned out to be a group date. I was actually the fifth wheel. Can you believe that?”

  “Never in a million years,” Riley said as Ashe held her hands on top of the table. “Anyway, I don’t mind, Ashe. I’m just happy to be in the same room with you.”

  “I’m happier,” he said, grinning.

  Riley knew that, in the happiness department, in this instance she had Ashe beat, but there was no point in arguing. She was elated to be with him and that was that. After Ben and Lance joined them in the adjoining table, she loved listening to them talk about growing up in Reeth, about the things they had done as kids and the trouble they’d all gotten themselves into. Lance, who had studied creative writing in London while Ashe was at the RSC, had ended up working with Ashe on Besties as the co-writer and producer, while Ben had moved to New York to pursue a career in film ten years earlier and had been instrumental in helping Ashe and Hazel form Rowan Productions.

  An hour later, as they were swapping more stories about Ashe and his sheep-shearing duties on the family farm, the flight attendant reminded them to return to their seats and buckle their seat belts as the plane began its descent.

  Riley knew where they were going the moment she saw the buildings and the bright neon lights of the casinos and hotels that Atlantic City was known for. However, she kept quiet and listened to what Ashe had to say, for she figured she’d heard enough of her own conversation over the seven days that he’d been gone. Tonight was her night to let go and let him take charge of everything. She was here and she was with him, and as far as Riley was concerned, the evening was already pure perfection, even if she had yet to learn what the surprise was.

  She didn’t have to wait long. After checkin and a quick dinner at the hotel, they got into a limousine and headed for Boardwalk Hall, a historic landmark arena right by the famed Atlantic City boardwalk.

  “You remembered!” Riley exclaimed as she saw the billboard for that evening’s act, her hand covering her mouth to stifle a scream, though she screamed anyway. Aerosmith!

  “I certainly did, Miss Twenty Questions,” Ashe said, grinning. “Are you ready?”

  Of course, Riley was ready. She was ready for anything that night and the night after that and the night after that. She wanted to cry because she was so happy but she also didn’t want to mess up her mascara and appear too emotional, even though she was emotional. She’d been through a roller-coaster ride the past 48 hours and this — being treated like she was the only thing that mattered to Ashe Hunter – was the best gift she could have asked for, or even dreamed of.

  They were escorted to the VIP section, right in front of the catwalk extension stage. The place was already packed with people for, just as Lance had said, they were running late. Thankfully, they were not too late, for they arrived just in time for the opening act.

  While Slash and Myles Kennedy and the Conspirators took the stage, Riley remained cool. She was the perfect rocker chick in her vintage Aerosmith T-shirt and tight jeans, and shit-kicking boots that completed her ensemble. And she needed nothing else to complete the look for the best accessory a girl could ever want was standing right behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her so that she could lean against him.

  When Steven Tyler walked on stage, with Joe Perry performing his usual magic on the guitar, Riley just about lost it. She screamed at the top of her lungs, joining the thousands of fans doing the same thing, even Ashe and his friends who stood nearby.

  She wanted to tell him that this was the best surprise ever, but she knew it wasn’t the time nor the place — not that he would have heard anything she would have said above the screams of the audience and the strains of the band. She screamed herself almost hoarse all night until she couldn’t scream anymore.

  When Steven Tyler said he wanted to see a lot of making out and kissing in the audience just before singing Riley’s favorite song, Ashe spun her around so that she was facing him.

  “I believe he means us,” Ashe said, kissing Riley before she could say anything else. Not that she would have objected, or said anything after that, for the moment his lips met hers, Riley forgot everything else.

  With Ashe kissing her in the midst of her favorite song performed live, she must have died and gone to rock heaven. She didn’t even care if anyone took pictures of them, or if the resident cameraman spotted them and trained his lenses towards them. Riley didn’t care for any of that. What she cared about was standing right in front of her, holding her as he kissed her and when he wasn’t kissing her, lip syncing the lyrics to her.

  It may be the corniest thing ever, she thought, watching him lip sync to the music. But it was the sweetest thing, the most perfect thing in the world as Ashe lowered his head and kissed Riley again.

  27

  Hers

  Hours later, Riley felt lost.

  The last few hours had been amazing. She’d seen her favorite band perform and watched Ashe lip-sync the words of her favorite song to her in a way that only happened in music videos and TV specials. She even got to meet the band when a tour member asked them if they’d like to go backstage, and Riley had pictures to prove that it had actually happened, even though the encounter was brief.

  Through Ben and Lance’s anecdotes, she got a glimpse of Ashe before fame had touched him, the son of a sheep farmer and a schoolteacher, who enjoyed long walks among the Dales and who preferred life in the Big Apple to Los Angeles, because he could buy authentic shepherd’s pies and Yorkshire loose teas from Myers of Keswick in the West Village. Ashe, who had kissed her in the elevator on their way up to the penthouse suite, and told her she had just made him the happiest man ever because she was right there with him and not halfway around the world. Ashe, who made love to her and made her feel so beautiful.

  Riley knew she should be happy, the running-naked-down-the-Boardwalk-screaming-I-just-got-serenaded-by-Ashe-Hunter kind of happy. But if she was happy, then why was she crying?

  Why did she feel as if all the good things happening to her were fast approaching their expiration date like everything else had? Why was she so afraid that this moment of lying next to Ashe as he lay sleeping was just another moment in her life that was going to be snatched away from her when she least expected it? Like the way the doctor had told them that her mother would be fine after she and Riley had been rescued from the apartment fire, only to die from a pulmonary embolism two days later. Or her father, after telling her that he didn’t blame her for not being able to help her mother down the stairs during the fire because she was in a wheelchair, spent the rest of Riley’s life blaming her anyway.

  How long would she have to enjoy Ashe? How soon would it be before something or someone snatched him away from her? How could-

  “What are you thinking?”

  Ashe’s voice broke into the stream of questions running through her mind and Riley turned to look at him, startled. She wondered how long he’d been awake, hoping that the tears that had dried had not left their mark on her face.

  “Nothing,” she said.

  “You’re a terrible liar,” he said, tracing circles on her shoulder. “You’ve been crying for fifteen minutes and starin
g at the ceiling for the last twenty. If we’re going to work, Riley, it takes more than just sex and rock concerts. You can’t bottle things up forever.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out again, figuring she might as well tell him. The sooner she knew it would end, the better, then it wouldn’t hurt so much when he did leave her.

  “I guess I’m just wondering when this dream’s going to end, when you’re going to stop being my Prince Charming or knight in shining armor and show me your true face,” she told him.

  “Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” he answered. “You’re definitely going to be disappointed if you think I’m your Prince Charming or a knight in shining armor, because I’m not. I’m just a man, Riley. Imperfect and human, the same as everyone else.”

  “Then how come I don’t see any flaws? You’re too perfect, Ashe. Can you see where I’m coming from? You’re too good to be true.”

  Ashe frowned. “Must I have flaws for you to believe I’m real? At least flaws that you must see with your own eyes? Must I fit into this hole that Gareth’s left inside you for you to know that I really am here — because I’m the last person to step into his shadow? And I don’t intend to.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” she said. She could sense his annoyance and it was intense. Ashe never seemed to do things halfway. Riley could almost guess that he was an all-or-nothing type of man.

  “Even if this has nothing to do with Gareth, are flaws the only thing you need to see to convince yourself that I’m real, that I’m really here with you? Isn’t it enough that I’m here with you — really here?”

  “Well, of course, you’re here with me-”

  “No, I’m not — at least not the Ashe that you think you’re with,” he said, sitting up now, his face seeming cold as he looked at her. “You’re so hung up on Ashe Hunter, the actor, that you can’t see who is really in front of you. And you’re right to wonder when the dream will end. Because Ashe Hunter, the actor, would simply impress the hell out of you for one night, wine and dine you and serenade you. All that before fucking you, too — exactly like I just did — and be gone in the morning, with just a note written on hotel stationary telling you to call his assistant who’ll make sure you get home safe.”

  The way he said it made Riley sit up and stare at him, at the way he delivered that last line — so cold, so calculating. So unlike the Ashe she knew.

  She didn’t expect the dream to end that soon, she thought as she pulled up the sheet and tucked it under her armpits, covering her breasts. But wasn’t this what she wanted?

  “But that’s not the Ashe who’s with you now, Riley,” he said, his voice softening. “Right now, I’m just Asher Sean Hunter, just some Yorkshire lad who parlayed his good looks into a career so that he could pay for his sister’s treatments, who sold his soul to the highest bidder to get where he is now because he realized that he did like being the center of attention after all.

  “But if you think that I like the man looking back at me in the mirror each morning knowing all the things that I’ve done to get here, then you’re wrong,” he continued, his voice turning cold again. “How’s that for one flaw, Riley? Do you think I’m proud of the things I’ve done to get where I am now? That’s a second flaw. But do you want to know what my biggest flaw is? It’s that I can’t even convince the woman I love that the man she’s with is the real thing, all because I got so damn good at pretending to be whoever anyone wanted me to be – Prince Charming, knight in shining armor, android with the biggest dick who can fuck on demand.”

  She should be scared, Riley thought. But she couldn’t deny the realization that an angry and cold Ashe was a sight to behold, a force to be reckoned with, one that made her belly clench and made her feel like Jell-O as he looked at her. His voice, so low that it almost rumbled from his chest, left her breathless.

  “I’m not your Prince Charming, Riley. And I sure as hell am not your knight in shining armor,” he said. “But if there’s one thing that I am, I’m yours.”

  And that was it. Riley couldn’t remember exactly what happened next or the order in which it occurred. She only knew that she had stared at him as if she were seeing him for the very first time, until the truth of his words took root deep inside her. Suddenly she was kissing him hard, wanting to take him for her own because he was hers, and the next moment Ashe was holding her down, her wrists held in one hand above her head and his other hand roaming down her body, tugging at her nipple clips. His mouth nipped and sucked and even bit as she cried out — not for him for him to stop but to do more.

  She found that Ashe was not a man who submitted to anyone. He was a man who took control, whose anger translated well into domination, someone who loved a challenge when it presented itself, and she loved every minute of it.

  She loved having Ashe rule over her, her passion matching his in bed and beyond, even if her life involved coffee grounds and books, and his was camera angles and strobe lights. Somehow, in between they had found a middle ground where everything felt so right.

  His hand slipped lower down her body, cupping her mound before slipping his fingers inside her. Then he brought his fingers to her mouth so she could taste herself, before kissing her again.

  “You’re wet,” Ashe said, returning his hand between her legs, where she wanted him desperately to fill her with his cock. He dipped one finger, then two, ignoring her protests as he drew them out only to slip them in again, his thumb rubbing against her clit as he watched her writhe beneath him.

  She moaned again, not knowing how to phrase exactly what she wanted him to do. She only knew that she wanted more. She wanted all of him.

  Ashe still held her wrists above her head with his hand and she didn’t fight him. She didn’t want to. She liked being held down like he was doing. There was something dangerous in Ashe that was maddeningly exciting to her. It lurked beneath the surface, another part of him that she’d never expected to find, one that drove her mad with desire.

  “Look at me,” he ordered. “Tell me what you want.”

  “I want you.” Her answer came out between gasps as he continued teasing her with his fingers, her body writhing beneath him.

  “You already have me,” he said. “Now tell me what you want me to do.”

  “I want you to make love to me,” she whispered, breathless now as his fingers continued to drive her mad with desire, her hips grinding against him as his mouth found a nipple, tugging the barbell clip between his teeth.

  “You can do better than that, Riley,” he murmured. “Say it like you mean it. Say the words you really want to say.”

  And then Riley shattered, telling Ashe exactly what he wanted to hear, using words she never thought she’d say, though it excited her to say them. He released her hands and held her against him as she came, the bud between her legs blossoming and taking her over completely. She realized then that what she had thought of as formality, even shyness, was actually strength. Ashe controlled his emotions because he had to, appearing reserved because he chose only a select few to see him at ease, wide open, the way he was now.

  When Ashe entered her, he did so with a force that she craved, that gave her a glimpse of something primal in him. It told her he would protect her with all he had if the need arose. Most of all, unnervingly — though eventually liberating – Riley realized just how much she wanted to belong to him, and to be completely his as he claimed her, took her and owned her with his eyes, his mouth, his hands, his soul.

  When dawn broke, and light slipped through the gap in the curtains to reveal the marks of his teeth on her skin, Riley traced one on her left breast, still tender beneath her fingers.

  They were lying on their sides, her back snuggled against him as they faced the curtained window. His arm was under her head, one hand playing with her hair while the other cupped her hand and together they traced his mark on her breast.

  “Did it frighten you, what we did?” he asked, his breath fanning the skin behind her ear.


  “No,” she said, feeling him pull her closer. “Is that really part of you, Ashe? Someone dark? Someone who always has to be in control?”

  “You were in control, too,” he said. “You could have said no.”

  “But I didn’t want to. I loved everything you did,” Riley said in a whisper. “And I want more of it.”

  “Then you shall have more,” he teased, kissing her on the nape of the neck. His stubble scratched against her skin and made her giggle though that was soon replaced with a yawn, for Riley was exhausted, her body completely spent.

  But Ashe didn’t do it again, not that he had planned to. He did something else instead, something that made Riley smile, for it brought back the Ashe that she first fell in love with. Combined with the part of Ashe that she discovered now, the one with fire behind his eyes, who made love with a dark passion she’d never seen before, one that excited her to no end, it made for a potent combination that she wanted only for her own.

  But for now, the fun loving Ashe held her tight and recited a poem by W.H. Auden, O Tell Me the Truth About Love, his voice soft against her ear. It was the perfect poem to put an end to all her doubts, one that made her giggle and laugh till she fell asleep snuggled against his chest, dreaming of hungry Alsatians and eiderdown fluff.

  But Ashe had followed his lighthearted poem with a promise, too. I’ll never let anyone hurt you, Riley. Not Gareth, nor Paige. Not anyone.

  And long after they both returned to New York that afternoon, flying in the same plane that had brought them to Atlantic City the night before, Riley would never forget how Ashe listened to her as she told him about Paige and Gareth’s betrayal, and how he held her close to him the entire time, the warmth of his body permeating through her, calming the storm within. For there was more to Ashe than just the mind-blowing sex, she thought, or the private jets and front row tickets to sold-out concerts. He gave her space where she could be strong, yet also vulnerable — if only to him — and safe.