Undone: Ash & Ana (Beg For It 2) - Page 25

“I’m going to go take a shower.”

“I’ll come with you.” One of the girls stepped toward me. Her skirt just about ended before it began and she barely looked 18. When had groupies started getting so young? It couldn’t be that I was getting older. “I’d love to soap you up.”

“Yeah, take her and join us after.” Connor turned and continued on his former path. I let him round the corner before I sent the wannabe shower girl on after him.

“Not tonight, love.” I patted her on the ass and sent her away, no hard feelings.

I was hard, though. Ana hadn’t been wearing much tonight at the show, or last night at dinner and all I’d been able to do was look. I’d known she had a smoking hot figure, but once stylists had gotten their hands on her she’d blown the roof right off. With plumped up cleavage and outfits that made the most of those long, smooth, shapely legs, she had me licking my lips. But what still drove me the most crazy was the memory of her glistening lips parted, soft moans of desire escaping as my fingers snuck under her panties, up inside her slick heat.

I put on the shower, letting it steam up the bathroom. Why had Ana left the show early? Maybe she’d freaked out and decided against this whole charade? I didn’t have a text from her. Or maybe Lola had sent her packing, deciding to take matters into her own hands to avoid the trio of L-words.

Lola was smart. She knew Ana was just what my bad boy image needed, wholesome and squeaky-clean. At least until I got some time alone with her.

Tomorrow we’d head to San Francisco where I had my house. Once we were there I had a few more choice L words for Lola. Basically, Later, Loser. She didn’t own me. And Ana was a 24-year-old woman fully capable of making her own choices. She wasn’t a nun, for fuck’s sake. And the only thing I’d agreed to not do in that stupid contract was sex. There were a lot of other ways we could have fun.

I stepped under the pounding hot water, letting the steam and spray massage my muscles. I took my cock in the palm of my hand. I was a big man, fully proportionate all over, and there was nothing I liked more than drilling it deep into a wet, needy pussy. But that wasn’t the only way to get off. As I stroked myself, I closed my eyes, imaging Ana kneeling before me. I could see the way she’d look up at me, those toffee-colored eyes wide, her pink lips parted. I’d fist my hand in her soft hair and I bet she’d be shocked. I doubted she’d ever played rough before. I swallowed. Just the thought had me so hard. Blood surged through my prick. I felt hard as a rock and already close to coming, she had me so worked up.

I wanted to get my mouth on her, too, spread those pretty thighs and feel that wet heat my fingers had explored. The first time I’d have to eat her fast and furious. I wanted her too much. I’d devour her, make her come full and hard in my mouth so fast she wouldn’t know what had hit her. She was so responsive, her whole body quivering with need, as if she’d been bottled up, waiting, craving my touch. Once I’d drunk her down, then I could take my time, slow, teasing, tormenting her. Kissing my way along her inner thighs, hearing her gasp and moan, making her beg.

I was so close, my cock thick as I stroked. I cupped my balls with one hand, grasped my shaft with the other, working the whole length from the fat crown down to the base. Grunting, I could feel the tension build. I pictured her on her knees before me, that gorgeous chest of hers bare. I hadn’t seen her yet, hadn’t stripped her down completely naked, but I would. I’d do it soon and I’d see those luscious tits bare naked and bouncing for me, ready to play with, her head tilted, throat arched back, breasts out, nipples hard as I jerked my cock and came, hard, all over her mounds. Spurting come out of me, full and thick, I groaned loudly, picturing her so vividly.

But it was just me, alone in a shower stall. The king of rock with countless groupies waiting for me down the hall, and I was choosing to jerk myself off in the shower. When was the last time I’d turned down pussy in favor of my own hand? That would be…never.

Shaking my head, I told myself that this was no big deal. I had this in check. I just needed to get Ana out of my system. I wasn’t used to this bullshit look-don’t-touch policy. Tomorrow we’d head to San Francisco, my turf and my rules. We’d mess around and I’d get my head screwed on right. Then everything would go back to being the same, exact way it had been before. Now if only that didn’t sound so awful.

§

Ana wanted a hot chocolate. Of course she did. Because she looked so freaking cute and rosy standing there with me at Crissy field, like she’d just built a snowman with Billy and Cindy-Lou.

But her ass in those jeans didn’t look like a little kid. And believe me, I’d checked it out plenty of times while we strolled around San Francisco. She wore a fitted jacket and tall boots, leaving miles of slim-cut jeans in between for me to admire. That ass, so perky and round and ripe. I needed to take a bite right out of it.

But that would have to wait for this afternoon. This morning we were on a PR mission, hitting the highlights of San Francisco while photographers strategically captured our candid moments. Right now, walking along the waterfront with the Golden Gate Bridge in the background, I had to admit, Lola knew her stuff. The light blue of the sky, the glassy, deeper grey-blue of the ocean, and the brilliant reddish-orange Golden Gate Bridge cast the perfect background for romance.

Not that that’s what was really happening, of course. I was rehabbing my image while trying to get into Ana’s pants. But I had to admit, all this posing together, strolling and chatting wasn’t exactly torture.

“So you’ve lived here for a while now?” Ana asked as we walked, arm in arm, along the walkway.

“Since I was 19.”

“Did you move here after you graduated high school?”

“Yeah.” I left out the part about how I finally managed to get a G.E.D after being kicked out of several boarding schools for failing grades and even worse behavior. She didn’t need to know me that well.

“Did you come out here for college?”

I scratched my head. She was into books and all that, I knew that much. “Studying and I aren’t exactly…” I brought my fingers together, intertwining them, inseparable.

“No college?”

“Nope.” I felt strangely nervous, like I actually cared what she thought of me. That didn’t make sense. “I took a few classes when I first came out. UC Berkeley has an extension school and you don’t have to apply, you can just sign up.” And then not show up. Again with the editing. Why was I trying to im

press her? What was wrong with me?

“But then Connor moved out and joined me and we got the band together and, you know.”

“You became a rock star.” She filled in the blank.

“Yeah, that.” I gave her what I hoped was a charming smile.

“So, no college degree?”

“What, do you have a problem with that?” Whoops, that sounded sharp and defensive.

“No, no, of course not.” She patted my arm like I needed reassurance. I had to admit, it felt good. “I’m just trying to get to know you. And I’ve met your family. They seem like the kind of people who would, you know, want you to—”

“Be exactly like my older brother, Colton, who went to Yale undergrad and then Harvard Business School, yes.”

“Wow. That’s a tough act to follow.”

“I never even tried.” Why was everything I said sounding bizarrely raw and vulnerable? Where was Mr. Cool?

“Is it that you don’t like studying? Or school? Or reading?”

Oh shit, a librarian asking me if I didn’t like books. This wasn’t going well. “I’m not good at it. I can’t sit still. And I don’t know, reading’s never exactly been my thing. Takes me too long to get through it all.”

“Maybe you’re dyslexic?”

I shrugged. I’d had a lot of labels thrown at me over my younger years and even I had figured out that some wires in my brain must be crossed when it came to making sense of all those jumbled words. But I’d moved around a bunch and switched schools and it hadn’t even occurred to me to think about it in years.

“You know, there’s nothing to be ashamed of about that,” she reassured me. “A lot of people are dyslexic. Charles Schwab was dyslexic.” She looked up, hope for me shining bright in her gorgeous eyes.

I had to smile. I was so used to people falling over themselves impressed with me, feeding my larger-than-life ego. I loved that she thought I might need some encouragement. “Do you think I have a chance to make something of myself?” I teased.

Tags: Callie Harper Beg For It Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net
readsnovelonline.net Copyright 2016 - 2024