erotica?
Of course, the whole time I was thinking of Ashlyn. Her round hips swaying side to side, hypnotizing me even in my dreams. Her enigmatic expressions. Her full lips.
I wish there were a way I could break through her icy exterior. I can think of a dozen ways to melt her if only she’d let me get close. Heck, I could even invent a few along the way.
My cock grows painfully hard despite the dire situation I’m in, and I adjust it to alleviate the pressure.
Down, boy. Now’s not the time.
Of course, she’d never go for a man like me. She probably dates Hollywood types with big jobs and equally large bank accounts.
Women never seemed to complain before, even the ones with padded bank accounts.
Especially after taking you out for a joy ride. Women love that.
I begin packing the few things I have left in the world. I don’t want to ask Casey if I can sleep
on her couch, but my options are limited since our parents moved to Florida, and the summer weather would have me roasting in my car.
It takes me less than five minutes to have my bag zipped and slung over my shoulder. I don’t want to leave, but I made my bed, and now it’s time to lie in it.
I open the door, and on the other side is Ashlyn, her fist a moment away from knocking.
We stare awkwardly at each other before we both stutter out, “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” she blurts out. “I can’t believe Gran…”
Her voice trails off as a bewildered expression spreads across her face.
“When she asked me to read, I had no idea she had Three Bikers and My Tiny Back Alley in mind.”
A burst of laughter escapes Ashlyn’s mouth. Not the sarcastic chuckles she seems to shield herself with. True laughter. The first time I’ve heard it since we were kids.
She eyes my bag. “Are you so embarrassed you’re bent on leaving?”
“I figured you’d kick me to the curb after getting fresh with your granny like I did.”
Her expression turns grim. “More like I was scared I was going to read about it in the tabloids.”
Pain flashes in her eyes, and now I have a better understanding of why she is how she is.
When her work took off a couple of years ago, her name was on everyone’s lips. It’s not often a small-town girl from Nebraska makes it big in the city.
Then, the interviews from her so-called friends aired, and the whole world became privy to things they had no right knowing. When she got her first period, had her first kiss, and how she lost her virginity.
It sickened me, and I decided I wasn’t going to partake in that kind of chatter. I stopped talking to a lot of folks because of it. It just didn’t feel right.
I want so badly to take her into my arms and tell her I’ll protect her, but we’re not familiar like that, and I don’t want to scare her away.
Finally, I say, “Ash, you’ll never have to worry about that with me.”
She wraps her arms around her body and downcasts her eyes. She doesn’t trust me. I can’t say I blame her.
I swallow, trying to figure out what to say to her. How I can make her feel safe. God, it must be difficult trusting anyone. If I were her, I wouldn’t want to leave the house. I wouldn’t want to turn on the news. I certainly wouldn’t want any friends.
“Stay,” she rasps. “I have a lot on my mind with Gran taking a turn for the worse. I really need someone that can help manage the place.
“I’ll be here as long as you need me.”
