Undone volume 2, p.19

Undone, Volume 2, page 19

 part  #2 of  Undone Series

 

Undone, Volume 2
 


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  “Yes!” Hands down at the waistband of his pants, I tore at them. I could see the bulge of him, pressing against the leather. He’d been teasing us all with that. Teasing time was over.

  “Do you want to come on my cock, Ana?”

  “Yes!” Finally, I got his pants unzipped, finally down off of him and wrapped my hands around the most delicious cock I’d ever fantasized about in my life. “Ash, I need you.”

  “That’s right,” he groaned as I stroked him, admiring his long, thick shaft. He was so big and knew exactly what to do with every inch.

  “I need you inside me.” I grasped him more firmly now, swirling a drop of precome around his wide crown.

  “Ride my cock, baby.” He rested back against the table and watched as I stripped off my panties, stepping out of them in my heels. He took out a condom and rolled it out over his length. Then he brought a large hand to my thigh and helped me straddle him, bringing my wet sex right up to where I needed it. I stood up at my full height, a hand at his shoulder to steady myself.

  Looking him full in the eye, I impaled my wet pussy down over his rock-hard cock.

  “Ash!” I called out, throwing my head back at how much he filled me, the intense stretch of his huge shaft going into me deep.

  “More,” he bit out, and I realized I hadn’t taken him all the way in, not yet. I straddled him wider and sank myself down full into his lap, taking him in to the hilt. I screamed out at the feel, almost painful, as he pushed into me so deep.

  “Ride me, baby.” Ash brought his hands to my hips and I couldn’t have stayed still if I’d tried. I didn’t try. I wanted to move so I did, thrusting myself against him, working myself up and down his long, hard cock. I could angle him exactly right so he hit my sweet spot every time. I panted as I worked, sinking myself down onto him again and again.

  “Use my cock, Ana.” Ash panted, sweaty, watching me work my pussy along his slick length again and again. “I want you to make yourself come on my cock.”

  Grunting, I clung onto him for leverage, straddling him wide and moving faster. Pushing the strap of my dress to the side, he took my breast out so he could squeeze it in his large hand. I moaned as I bucked against him, frenzied.

  “So hot, you like this.” With one hand at my waist, Ash kept his eyes fixed on where our bodies joined, where my slick juices lubricated our fucking. I’d never felt so crazed, so uninhibited, so overcome with animal lust. I was using his cock just like he’d told me and it felt so good.

  Fixated on my pussy coming down again and again on his huge cock, Ash asked me, husky, “Are you my little slut, Ana? Are you my slut for me, getting off on my cock?”

  “Yes,” I moaned, so close, the throbbing in my sex pushing me so close.

  “Say it,” he demanded.

  “I’m your slut, Ash!” I cried, thrusting down on him. He squeezed my breast hard and dug his fingers into my ass, pushing me down even harder.

  “Show me,” he commanded.

  When I came, it felt like every fantasy I’d ever had engulfing me, backstage with this rock god, and together we exploded. He clasped his hand over my mouth as I screamed, muffling my cries of ecstasy as I felt him shudder and come inside of me. He buried his mouth in my neck, on my throat, a visceral, guttural groan coming out of him as he brought his cock up deep, so deep inside of me.

  A knock sounded on the door. Panting, the roaring tide still rushing around us, we both still heard it.

  “One minute, Ash.”

  That’s right. He still had more of his show to do. He’d finished his set, but still there was more. And I played a starring role.

  “You know what’s next?” he asked me. He brought his forehead against mine and we sat there, panting, our faces so close together. I nodded.

  “Are you ready?” he asked me. I pulled back and we looked into each other’s eyes. But before I could answer, there was another knock.

  “OK, coming,” Ash answered. He helped me climb off of him and pointed out where I’d flung my panties, over in the corner.

  “Thanks,” I said as I hustled over to put them on.

  “I always try to be a gentleman.” Ash winked at me and I had to laugh as he buttoned up his leather pants and I straightened out my sparkly dress after our nasty, dirty, backstage quickie.

  We stepped out and Lola stood there next to the bouncer who’d summoned us. Her eyes shot out daggers.

  “Christ! Look at you!” She was talking to me. It didn’t matter if Ash Black had the just-fucked look, but I was supposed to be a goddamned librarian. Lola snapped her fingers up in the air. Two ladies came at her beck and call. “Tame it!” she demanded and they set to work on my hair, brushing and combing and spraying while also moving me toward the stage with Ash.

  One of the girls whispered in my ear, “Is he as good as he looks?”

  The other girl answered for me. “I’ve heard he’s huge. Aimee had him last year.”

  Oh, that felt great. I wondered how many women had shared my Ash in the past? How many would in the future? But now wasn’t the time for wondering, now was the time to stand up in front of thousands and put on a show.

  “You ready?” Ash took my hand, looking into my eyes. I wish I could say that everything else fell away as I stared into his twin pools of liquid love. But that wouldn’t be true. I was about to go out on stage in front of tens of thousands of people. I felt like I was going to throw up. But I swallowed and nodded yes, even though I really felt like yelling, “No!”

  But then it happened. He pulled me out on my wobbling legs onto the stage. The band was already in place, just like Lola had told me. Everything was going as planned.

  “Sorry to keep you all waiting,” Ash spoke into the microphone he had attached to his earpiece, apologizing to his screaming fans. “I couldn’t keep my lady waiting. If you know what I mean.”

  The crowd roared its bawdy approval and my cheeks turned a bright shade of scarlet because not only had he just made a dirty reference to me, it was 100% true.

  “Tonight’s a big night! It’s New Year’s Eve, people!” The crowd went wild. I stood, deer in headlights, a broad fake smile plastered to my face. Ash was as natural as I’d ever seen him, though, talking to the huge audience like it was no big deal. Like he wasn’t being photographed and videotaped and viewed by thousands, make that millions by the time this video spent some time up on YouTube.

  “Now how many of you have heard about my girl, Ana?” He held up my hand, making me step forward with him in the spotlight. Thankfully, he then wrapped his arm securely around my waist, propping me up. I wondered if he could tell how close I was to toppling over.

  “She’s too good for me, I know that. But tonight, I have a very special question I want to ask her.” The crowd’s fevered pitched cranked up another notch I hadn’t even thought possible.

  Then Ash bent down on one knee. We were flanked by four huge cameras trained right on us with their wide, black, blank lenses. I broke out in a sweat, trembling, feeling the seconds drag on, endless.

  Ash took out a box and held it in the palm of his hand. Then he lifted up the top. Two cameramen rushed in to get an up-close shot. With so many flashing lights, the sparkles and shimmers practically shot off of the rock.

  Ash looked up at me. Speaking clearly, he asked the question, “Ana, will you marry me?”

  Right then, more than anything I wanted off that stage. It suddenly felt like everything was too much, the ring, the crowd, the cameramen, even the calm and composed way in which Ash displayed our fake romance. That was all this was, a big, public display for his image, and yet I’d just climbed up and humped him backstage like a monkey in heat.

  A flicker of nerves passed over Ash’s face. “She’s making me wait,” he told the crowd.

  Right, I was supposed to respond. I nodded my head like a good girl. “Yes,” I whispered. They hadn’t fixed me up with a headset, though. Smart of them. They knew I was a wildcard.

  So Ash had to anno
unce it. “She said yes, people!” he declared to thunderous roars of approval. He took my hand and pushed a ring with a gigantic, cockroach-sized diamond sticking out of it onto my finger. He held it up for the cameras.

  I might have managed to still smile. If I did, it was merely because I could no longer feel my face. Whatever expression had been on it a minute or so ago was the one I still had on, might have on for the rest of the night. I didn’t see this shock wearing off any time soon.

  “You’ve made me a happy man!” he exclaimed to me, for the crowd, then sent me packing with a kiss so he could launch into a few more songs.

  I stumbled off the stage, my legs wooden, my head throbbing. Lola was there to meet me. I was now wearing a nice chunk of the Ash Black asset portfolio.

  “Don’t you fucking lose that,” she said with a smile, her arm around me protectively. “Look, don’t touch, ladies.” She offered my hand up like I was a marionette to the surrounding throng of groupies, all clustered around to see my rock.

  “I’m so jealous I could kill you!” one of them exploded in admiration.

  “I hate you!” another offered.

  “Thanks,” I managed. With friends like these…

  Lola posed me for a few photos, displaying my rock. I felt like a Barbie doll in the hands of a five-year-old, only we were having much less fun.

  “You’re doing good,” she encouraged me as she swept me down into an after-party. “Now work the crowd. Show me you’re worth every penny.”

  Ick. Now I felt like a pole dancer with a twenty stuffed into my thong.

  “Ash’ll be here in a few,” Lola told me as she disappeared into the crowd.

  So many celebrities, so little time. Had I thought I’d seen some big names earlier? That was before the show. Now, things really exploded. Faces from TV, movies, hip hop stars, popstars, a few guys I figured had to be professional basketball players, nearly seven feet tall and built like brick shithouses.

  “Ten, nine, eight!” the crowd started chanting. It was seconds away from midnight. Ash must still be on stage, counting it down with the fans.

  “I want to kiss Ash’s girl!” a girl in a tiny scrap of a dress squealed.

  “No, I want to!” another girl in an even tinier scrap of a dress bitch-slapped her rival across the face and leaned in as she screamed “Two! One!”

  Amidst the din of horns and yells of “Happy New Year!”, she puckered, pressed in close and planted a big one on me.

  “Girl on girl!” a guy next to us called out with glee. The woman trying to have her way with me wrapped her hands around my waist. Somehow, I twisted out of her grip, lurching to the side and away into the crowd. Streamers and confetti fell from the ceiling. Every face looked familiar but yet there was no one I knew.

  A cold hand reached out and grasped my wrist. I flinched, wondering if it was the girl, back for more.

  It wasn’t. It was former American Idol winner singing sensation Mandy Monroe.

  “Hello, Anika.” She smiled at me, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. When people used my full name Anika, it almost never meant anything good. Occasionally my mother would use it kindly, but it usually heralded the beginning of a long inquisition about something I’d done wrong. My Uncle Yuri used it from time-to-time in a neutral manner, as in, “Could you pass the herring, Anika?” And, come to think of it, Ash had called me Anika a few times in a good way. But out of Mandy’s sneering, cherry red lips, I could tell it did not bode well.

  “Hey there.” I looked around for an easy out, but saw nothing save a swirling wall of people, packing us in from all sides. More practiced at navigating her way through crowds, Mandy pulled us into a corner. I would have been able to breathe better there, but for one problem. Mandy was still by my side.

  “How are you?” she asked with the wide, pitying eyes of someone who really wished you were squished like a bug on a windshield.

  “OK,” I squeaked, grabbing a flute of champagne from a passing tray. I downed it in seconds flat.

  “I’m so worried about you, Anika. You’re so naïve. And you’re with such a bad guy.”

  “Thanks, Mandy.” Maybe I could get her off topic by telling her that I loved her songs? I knew a whole bunch of them because my roommate Jillian played them all the time. Honestly, they’d never grown on me.

  She grabbed a fistful of fabric from the torso of my dress. It was quite an accomplishment, given how slim-fitting and tight the dress was. But Mandy meant business.

  “He broke my heart!” she declared, literally bringing the back of her free hand up to her forehead and pressing it there like a silent film star. Her eyes took on a misty, faraway look. Even though I didn’t really trust her more than I could throw her, she captured my attention. The fist gripping my dress saw to that.

  “Do you know what it’s like to give a man everything? Every last shred of your soul? To give all of yourself and more? And then have him stomp on it?”

  I gulped. Awkward. Uncomfortable. I wanted to make light of it all, launch a few sarcastic barbs at her, maybe ask ‘if you gave all of yourself, how did you also give more?’ But a larger part of me was riveted. I knew she was probably making stuff up, putting on a show for me for some manipulative reason. But here’s the thing: she made her living by putting on shows. She was damn good at it.

  “I know that pain,” she told me, and I could see it there, etched on her lovely features, haunting her perfect, round eyes. But then her eyes narrowed and she took on the look of a hawk. “You’ll know it, too,” she cursed me.

  I looked around again, searching for someone, anyone I could pull in and say, “hey, look, it’s Mandy Monroe” then pull a classic bait-and-switch. But no one met my eye and Mandy kept holding on to me. There was some strength in that tiny five-foot-three coalminer’s daughter frame of hers.

  “He’ll break your heart,” she hissed. I swear, if she’d added ‘my pretty’ and broken into a cackle she would have been a shoe-in for the Wicked Witch of the West.

  “OK, well, thanks for the warning.”

  “I thought he was the one,” she insisted. “And here he is not a month later asking you to marry him. That’s fucked up.”

  I had to agree with her on that one. This whole situation was fucked up.

  “I’ve got to go.” I twisted away from her. I swear she pulled a fistful of glitter off of my dress.

  “Don’t trust him!” she called after me and damn if her words didn’t send a chill down my spine. I knew she was being melodramatic and manipulative. I didn’t need Ash to point that out, every ounce of instinct in me cried out to not trust that woman. But something in what she said resonated.

  That’s when I saw Ash over by the door. He’d just arrived at the after party, flanked by Connor and a slew of other revelers. The room erupted into more cheers and screams, the DJ pumped up the volume of a thumping tune and everything seemed to pound into me, elbows, bass, feet. Even if I tried to make my way over to Ash, I didn’t think I could have, not trapped in the crowd like I was.

  But I could see him, tall by the door, and then over by the bar. Two people he was with climbed up on top of it, then pulled him up with them. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but they were yelling and I saw the bartender pouring them shots.

  Who was that Ash was with? The guy had purple hair peeking out of a pink knitted cap and a full sleeve of tattoos. Something about that perfect pout of his lips looked familiar. Was that Justin Bieber?

  The girl next to him on the bar took off her top, swung it around and flung it into the crowd. She had small, perky breasts and a long tongue she stuck out, raising her fingers into a V around it. Wait, was that Miley Cyrus?

  Was Ash up standing on a bar doing shots with Justin Bieber and Miley Cyrus? I had to be hallucinating. I rubbed my eyes but then a huge guy who had to be another pro-athlete, stood directly in front of me. I couldn’t see a thing anymore.

  But I didn’t need to see any more. This was insane. Whatever I’d thought
I’d felt in Paris wasn’t real. It was the city of love, or lights, or maybe both? Whatever people called it, how could you be expected to not fall hard for whomever you were with? Add in amazing food, the light snowfall, and the music we made together and, I mean, please, Ash could look like Quasimodo and I probably would have thought he was the love of my life.

  And he wasn’t Quasimodo, he was Ash Black, People magazine’s sexiest man of the year two years running and my own personal rock star fantasy. I had a freaking poster of him up in my room from high school. Could you blame me for thinking it was real?

  No, I didn’t blame myself for my past mistakes, but I did know I needed to get the hell out of that party. I needed to check into my own quiet hotel room, have a nice long hot shower, then fly back to New York. I wouldn’t mind doing another public appearance or two, something to keep the ruse going, to make sure the library branch got its 20 years of funding.

  But private time, with just me and Ash? That had to end. He was having the time of his life, in his element over there dancing on top of a bar with what may or may not be two of the craziest, wildest, most infamous celebrities of our generation.

  But I was losing my mind. One minute I was jumping his bones, the next vomiting with nerves. I couldn’t take this roller coaster ride anymore. I needed out. I had to go find Ash and tell him I was leaving. Then I needed to do just that.

  CHAPTER 12

  Ash

  That couldn’t be Mandy over by Ana in the crowd, could it? I squinted and tried to peer through all the craziness. It was probably just me being paranoid. But I hadn’t smoked any weed, and I swore when I first walked into the party I saw a girl who looked exactly like my psycho ex talking to Ana.

  But now I couldn’t see either of them. I stepped down off the bar, even though that provided a better vantage point. I’d have better luck finding Ana pushing through the crowd.

  “There’s the man!” Some guy from my agent’s firm clapped me on the back. Gary, Gus, I couldn’t remember his name. He was one of the younger guys who Joel sent out into the fray. Joel didn’t schlep around at parties like this anymore. He liked to tell me he was done with all that. He was a family guy now.

 
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