by Mia Madison
“Bra,” he whispers, and I take it off, freeing my breasts. He feasts on them, first one and then the other, still moving me with agonizing slowness.
“Baby, I need more.”
Ashton nuzzles my neck, then nips at my earlobe. “Be patient.”
“Ash.”
“Patient,” he repeats, and the man actually slows his pace. I clamp down on him as hard as I can. He gives me a sweet but wicked smile.
I’m getting desperate. “Baby, please.”
“You have my cock,” he murmurs against my skin. “What more could you need?”
“You know what I want.”
He stops moving altogether, instead claiming my mouth in a long, deep kiss. “You like it when I fuck you hard,” he says when he lifts his head.
“Yes, I do.” I tunnel my fingers through his hair. “I love every way you do me, you know that. But I love it best when you fuck me so hard I can’t walk afterwards.”
“Tori.” He says my name like it’s a prayer, almost reverently. There’s a strange sensation in my chest hearing him talk like that.
I try to move my hips, but he won’t let me. “Ash,” I plead. He kisses me again, sipping at my mouth almost delicately, driving me mad with his tenderness.
Finally, he starts to work me up and down, slowly at first, then faster and faster, thrusting up to meet me. “Ash! Yes!” My head’s thrown back, pleasure radiating out from my core and back again.
“Clit,” he growls, and I reach down to finger myself. It only takes a few seconds before the sensations gathering in my center swell and burst apart, taking me with them, making me shout Ash’s name as I grip him.
When I finally come down, he’s still hard inside me. “Phase two,” he says, and rises to lay me down on the table. My legs go up against his torso.
Leaning over me, so my legs are sandwiched between our bodies, my feet up around my head, he starts to move. One hand curls around my shoulder, to hold me in place for his thrusts, while the other arm keeps most of his weight off me.
Ashton builds up speed until he’s drilling into me, hard and fast, and I’m crying out with every stroke, wordless sounds of ecstasy. He pummels me into oblivion, and when I come again he follows me over the edge, filling me up with his release.
A little more of his weight presses down on me while he gets his breath back. When he’s ready, he scoops me up and carries me into the master bath. As soon as he sets me down, I sink down onto the bench seat; my legs are like rubber.
Just what I wanted.
Hot water, soap, and steam lead us straight into more playtime, so by the time Ash dries me off and carries me to bed, I’m glorying in the feeling of being well used. I snuggle into him, already sleepy.
My final thought as I drift away is that I never want this to end.
A few days later, I ask him about Lisa. Ashton smiles. “She filed a restraining order and divorce papers two days ago.”
“Good for her. She’s still in the shelter?”
“Yes, but I’m helping her try to get into an apartment.” He stares at his plate. “It feels better, helping her, than practicing law has in years.”
I squeeze his hand. “Maybe you should do some more pro bono work. Shake things up a little.”
“Maybe.” Turning his hand, he laces his fingers with mine. “I have a client party to go to this Friday. I want you to come with me.”
My heart leaps. The more time I spend with Ash, the better we seem to get along. Not just the sex, but all the little everyday moments.
I can imagine spending my life with him … and I can’t imagine spending it with anyone else. Not anymore. I’m falling for him, and hard.
“I could do that,” I say, with a shy smile. The thought of meeting his fancy clients is intimidating, but I love that he wants me with him.
“I’ll introduce you as my daughter’s friend,” he says. “No worries there.”
I keep the smile on my face. We both knew when we started this that it would have to end when Eden got back. There’s no point telling him I wish he would claim me as his lover in front of everyone.
That I think I want forever with him.
11
The party is as dull as I expected. Worse, I’m not sure where Tori is. Wallace Rutherford dragged me into his den to meet some of the men involved in his company’s merger, and now I can’t find her.
“Have you seen Tori?” I ask one of the women. “About so tall, dark hair, petite build?”
“I think she’s out on the patio.” The way she says it makes me uneasy. Or maybe it’s the look in her eyes … which, unless it’s my imagination, is something awfully close to pity.
“Thanks.” I waste no time in going out on the patio, and quickly discover the problem. Wally Rutherford, Wallace’s son, is out here too. And his hands are where they don’t belong.
“Stop it.” Tori’s exasperated tone is unmistakable. She hasn’t seen me yet. “I told you, I’m not interested.”
Wally laughs. “That’s what they all say. No worries, I won’t tell anyone the truth.”
Hauling her against him, he tries to kiss her. A sea of red washes over my vision, and then I’m yanking Wally away from Tori and shoving him across the patio – straight into his father’s arms.
Several other partygoers have followed me out here as well, and now a low murmur runs through the assembled group. Wally pushes away from his father and glares at me. Wallace pats him awkwardly on the shoulder and says, “You know how boys are.”
“He’s not a boy,” I retort. “And that’s not acceptable behavior at any age.” I look at Wally. “I’m waiting.”
“For what?” he scoffs.
“For you to apologize to Miss Smith.”
Wally laughs. “Are you crazy? Most girls would be flattered. You and ‘Miss Smith’ need to lighten up.”
Wallace says nothing. “Is this what you’ve taught your son?” I ask him.
His eyes narrow. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just presume to question my parenting in front of my guests.”
“I see.” I hold out a hand to Tori. “Let’s go.”
She comes to my side, and I tuck her against me while we walk back through the house. I don’t care what it looks like. Behind me, Wallace says, “I’ll see you first thing on Monday to finalize the merger.”
“No, you won’t.” I keep walking. “You need to find yourself another lawyer.”
A frantic buzz rips through the room. Everyone there knows that Rutherford is one of my biggest clients. Not only am I losing a lot of business, he could damage my reputation if he has a mind to be vengeful.
I don’t give a fuck.
Tori and I are both quiet on the way home. Not until we’re inside the apartment does she say, “I’m sorry, Ashton.”
I scowl at her. “For what? It wasn’t your fault.”
“I cost you a major client.” Her eyes are troubled.
“You didn’t cost me anything.” I take her by the shoulders. “That ass Rutherford and his ill-bred son cost themselves a good lawyer.”
“But your business–”
“I hate my fucking business.” As I say it, I realize it’s true. “I don’t care if the whole damn thing disappears overnight. Eden and you are all that’s important to me.”
Tori’s face goes soft. “Ash.”
I pull her close. “I mean it.”
“You’re important to me too.” The quaver in her voice almost undoes me. I lead her to the bedroom, and we slowly undress each other.
There’s no rush tonight. Instead, the urgency we both seem to feel demands that we take our time. That we savor every touch, every moment.
Even when I’m inside her and we’re moving together, we keep the pace slow, watching each other, our eyes saying all the words that are too dangerous to speak aloud. We come together, a long, shimmering moment that seems to fill the room, our bodies, with golden light.
Afterward, when she’s curled against me, sleeping
peacefully, I stare at the ceiling and think that this has been one of the most beautiful nights of my entire life. What I have with Tori is so much better than I ever could have dreamed.
And it all has to end.
12
The nights are the worst now that Eden’s back.
During the day, I keep busy with my classes, practicing as hard as ever. Ashton and I have scheduled a brief phone call each afternoon, just before my final class. Sometimes, in the evening, we send each other naughty sexts.
But they only make it worse when I’m lying alone, cold and lonely, missing his touch. Yes, I miss the sex, but I want the rest of it too – the conversations, the togetherness, the little ways we’ve figured out how to make each other smile.
It’s killing me. I’m so sad without him that one day, between classes, I dare to ask Eden how she feels about Ashton dating.
She shrugs. “He’s never really dated. I think he’s waiting until I’m out on my own.” Her nose wrinkles. “But did you hear about Brad and Madame Ellis?”
Brad is one of our fellow dancers. I have an inkling from the way she says it, but there’s no response I can give besides, “No, what?”
“They’re an item,” Eden says. “Everyone was talking about it earlier. She’s old enough to be his mother.”
I try to hide my extreme discomfort. “People can’t help who they love, Eden.”
“It’s gross.” She makes a face as we go into our next class.
The conversation preys on my mind all through the next hour. Finally, in the final few minutes of the class, I slip out to use the restroom … and see Brad and Madame Ellis in the hallway.
They’re standing close together, looking at each other in a way I recognize. The same way Ash and I look at each other. Not just with lust, but with affection and respect and devotion.
They’re in love.
I’m in love with Ashton.
I have to tell him. Now. Nothing else matters.
I rush blindly toward the exit. I’m outside before I realized that Eden’s followed me. “Where are you going? We have another class.”
What can I say? I don’t want to lie to her, but I can’t tell her before I’ve talked to Ashton. Instead of answering, I go down the steps to the sidewalk, Eden at my side.
“Tori, what–” she breaks off with a gasp that sounds more like a choked-off scream. I turn to see James Hopper, Lisa’s no-good ex-husband. He’s standing close to Eden, and when he sees me looking, he shows me the gun concealed in his jacket pocket – a gun aimed right at my friend.
“Been watching you.” His voice is slurred, but I don’t need it to know he’s drunk – I can smell the alcohol from here. “Know all about you.”
He weaves slightly, but not enough that Eden or I can risk trying to take him. “Asshole took my wife away,” he says, “so I’m gonna take his daughter from him. And his girlfriend. We’ll see how he likes that.”
He drags Eden down the sidewalk. I’m too afraid of the gun to try to call for help. We quick-step through the afternoon crowds thronging the sidewalk, moving at a brisk New York pace. I keep an eye out for any police I might be able to signal, but don’t see any.
My phone rings. It has to be Ashton, calling for our regular afternoon chat. I don’t answer. A few moments later, it rings again. The fourth time he calls, Hopper snatches the phone away from me and hurls it into the street.
When he leads us right to our apartment building, my heart sinks. James forces Eden to code us into the building, staying close behind her, the gun in his pocket touching the small of her back.
Once we’re inside, he herds us toward the elevator. “Kill you both,” he says as we ride up to our floor. “Right in front of him. Kill him, too, when I’m done with you – after he tells me where Lisa is. See what my wife says when she finds out what happened to her fancy lawyer.”
I’ve been too scared to even look at Eden; the sight of her white, terrified face from the corner of my eye is bad enough. As we approach our door, I have to try something, anything. “Please,” I whisper.
“Shut up, bitch!”
I cringe and fall silent. Eden unlocks the door and we go inside. “Over there,” Hopper demands, pointing at the dining room table. “Pull out two of those chairs.”
He has the gun out now, pointing it at us, so we do as he says. From his other jacket pocket, he produces a roll of duct tape and tosses it to me. “Tie her up. Nice and tight.”
I try not to cry as I bind Eden to the chair. My efforts to keep her bonds loose are futile; Hopper makes me wrap the tape around her arms and legs over and over. Finally, he’s satisfied.
“Now you,” he says, and I sit down, trembling, in the other chair. He wraps me up even more tightly than I did Eden. When he pulls a switchblade from a pocket of his jeans, we both whimper in fear.
“Gut you like a couple of pigs,” he snarls at us. “Soon as that asshole comes through the door.”
Ashton has to know something’s wrong by now. He knows I would answer him if I could. Please, baby, I think. Be safe.
I don’t know how long Hopper can keep it together. Will he get tired of waiting if Ashton doesn’t come, and kill us anyway?
He goes down the hall, into my bedroom, and comes back with one of the pajama sets Ash got me. Cutting the clothing with the knife, he fashions it into strips and uses them to blindfold us.
Now all we can do is listen.
And hope.
13
Fuck. What is going on?
Tori wouldn’t miss my call unless something were wrong. Maybe she’s ill. Unable to ignore the unease gnawing at my gut, I leave work and go to the Institute.
“Excuse me,” I say to the woman at the reception desk. “I need to talk to two of your students. My daughter, Eden Drake, and her friend Tori Smith. They should be here, taking their final class of the day, but I don’t know which room it’s in.”
She frowns. “Technically, that information is confidential.”
“I’m sure it is, but this is urgent. You could send someone with me. Search me for weapons. Whatever it takes. I just need to be sure they’re okay.”
The barely concealed fear in my voice gets through to her. “Charlie,” she calls, and a security guard comes over to me. “If you wouldn’t mind …” she says to me.
“Please.” I hold my arms out, and the guard pats me down.
“He’s clean.”
“Could you escort him to room 24, please? Madame Ellis’s final class.”
“Thank you,” I tell her, and follow the guard down the hall. He stops at a door, and I will Tori and Eden to be inside.
When he opens the door, I scan the room quickly. The girls aren’t here. Class has come to a halt with my appearance, and everyone is staring at me, including Madame Ellis.
I cross to her and speak in an undertone. “I’m very sorry to interrupt. I’m looking for my daughter, Eden, and her friend Tori Smith. They were supposed to be in this class.”
“Yes, they should be here; but as you can see, they are not.”
My alarm growing, I address the class. “Has anyone seen Eden or Tori?”
“They were in the class before this one,” a girl says. “I saw them in the hall afterwards; it looked like they were leaving.”
Madame Ellis’s mouth is pinched tight with disapproval. “Something must be wrong,” I tell her. “I don’t know what yet. But I’m certain you know it’s not like them to miss class.”
“It is unprecedented,” she allows grudgingly. “I hope that they are well. And now, I must attend to those who are here.”
The students whisper to each other as the class gets underway again. I beat a hasty retreat back down the hall and outside. Where are my girls?
Eden has a tracking app on her phone. I search for her and it says she’s in the apartment. Tori should be with her, but that’s only a partial relief.
Why would they leave school early and go home? They would never just blow off a class
. And if one of them were ill, they would have let someone at the Institute know.
I race to the apartment, unable to shake my sense of impending peril. There’s no sign of a disturbance in our hallway, or outside the apartment door. Still, after I unlock the door, I push it all the way open.
As I step inside, James Hopper comes around the door like a madman, a lamp upraised in his hands. I dodge back as he swings it wildly. He almost falls over, and I realize the man must be stoned or drunk.
Dropping the lamp, he pulls out a switchblade and flicks it open. Fuck. I leap back, keeping plenty of space between us, and let him back me in a circle that leads me back to the lamp.
As I pick it up, he rushes me. I barely manage to get the lamp up in time, but swing it hard into his hand. He howls at the impact and drops the knife.
Fueled by adrenaline and fury, I kick him in the kneecap. He goes down like a bowling pin, screaming. I don’t think he’ll be getting up soon, but just in case, I strike his temple with my first, knocking him out.
A glance around shows me Tori and Eden immediately, bound and blindfolded in two chairs. I spot the roll of duct tape and use it to tie Hopper’s arms behind his back. “Hang on, girls,” I call. “I’ll get you loose as soon as I notify the police.”
Five minutes later, both girls are free. They take off their blindfolds as I pull Eden in for a big hug.
Then it’s Tori’s turn, and my emotions are running too high to pretend. I hug her tight, too … and touch my lips to hers.
“Dad!” Eden yells at me. “Is it true, what that man said? That Tori’s your girlfriend?”
“Sweetheart,” I say, trying to soothe her. “The police will be here any minute. We’ll talk about it later, all right?”
“Just answer me.” Her expression holds a mixture of anger, pain, and disbelief. “Is she or isn’t she?”
Girlfriend is an entirely inadequate word for what I feel. “I care for Tori,” I say quietly. “Very deeply.”
A knock sounds at the door. “Police!” a voice calls. I go to answer it, but the stricken look on my daughter’s face tells me we won’t find any easy acceptance from her.