Ash
Next time you better share, Flirt, or I won’t.
Not since that night we met at the club had I come more than once in a single day. That had been out of my norm, but this was a special occasion.
You deserve a fat load down your throat for making me come a second time.
Ash
When? Fuck, I want it. You’ve got an amazing dick.
All yours, Playboy.
Ash
Playboy, huh? Not sure that fits either of us. Lol.
My Playboy then.
Ash
Is this your way of asking me to be exclusive?
If it is, I’m so here for it.
I honestly hadn’t even thought about us not being exclusive, but now that he’d brought it up, I sure as shit wanted to tie that down.
Yes. I want you, Asher. You alone.
Ash
Same. I don’t want to share.
I slept so well that night and the next night. This between us was an odd relationship that didn’t want to follow any sort of preset notions I’d had. But then, I didn’t care. I liked the uniqueness of it. I liked knowing what we did I wouldn’t have with anyone else.
Then Friday came.
The drive to my parents’ house was the same. The house was the same. The scents, the lighting, the heavy atmosphere was the same, but the man who walked through their door wasn’t.
Perhaps it was a confidence born of knowing someone out there wantedme. Not my money, because I hadn’t confessed my net worth. He might have had a ballpark idea, but not the stadium it resided in. He wasn’t in it because of who my parents were. Not my social standing, or the charities I was involved in, not for any reason someone else might think they wanted a piece of Luke Dorset.
Asher wanted me. The man. The man who hopefully made him feel as good as he did me.
“Darling,” Mother called from the piano room. She was twisting a heavy vase stuffed full of fresh flowers. It had no doubt been placed by someone else, but she had to adjust it to claim she’d worked hard for the display.
“Mother.” I leaned in and kissed her cheek.
She glanced down to my shoes and back up. Normally, I came dressed in a suit as she liked, but tonight, I had on a fitted sweater over a button-down and dark gray slacks.
“So casual. What’s the occasion? Surely not dinner with your family.”
I ignored the question. “Are Paul and Mary here?” Paul was in graduate school and didn’t often have time for these dinners. However, Mary was out of school, wasting her degree while catering to her fiancé’s life.
“Yes, darling. Everyone’s already in the salon.”
I paused from turning away. “Everyone?”
Mother stopped fiddling with the vase and faced me. “Did you call Georgina as I asked?”
