Aw, fuck. I ran my hand through my hair. I felt so twisted up. What was going on here? And was Ana feeling it, too? I knew I should talk to her about it, ask her if she wanted to give this a try, see what was really between us away from all the PR and the staged shows of affection. But I’d been too busy fucking her and now she was sleeping and then we’d plunge headlong into Vegas, baby, with my band mates and the staged event of all staged events: MARRY ME ANA on the jumbotron.

Why did part of me wish it weren’t just a set-up? Part of me, a growing part, wanted it to be real.

17

Ana

Ash woke me up so I could see the lights of Vegas from the plane. I’d never been there before, but I’d seen the shot so many times on TV, in movies, it almost looked familiar. The reds and blues and even greens from some of the larger buildings, set among a smaller constellation of tiny white lights. He pointed out a giant one as The Palazzo, and said we were staying at the MGM where he’d be playing that night, the last day of the year. The night we’d get engaged.

For such a momentous event, I’d spent very little time thinking about it. Ash had me on such a wild ride, showing me all around Paris, then feasting on me and fucking me in the hotel room like he couldn’t get enough. Every sense in my body, every thought in my brain had locked into him, the feel of him, the way he touched me, breathed me in as if I were oxygen. I knew this was all kinds of crazy, the way we consumed each other, almost violent in our need to extract pleasure from each other.

I’d certainly never felt that way before. I’d always thought that I had a healthy sexual appetite. Honestly, there were a lot of times with my ex-boyfriend Stan when I’d felt like I had sex on my mind more than he did. At night, alone with my fantasies, I certainly always made myself come with ease and gusto.

But this with Ash was next level. He made me want to do all kinds of things. I’d always approached everything in my life with caution, weighing pros and cons. But when Ash talked about tying me up, binding me and making me beg? His words alone made me so wet I could barely speak let alone think rational thoughts, working my way through deliberations. Because I knew he could do it, torturing me, giving me so many orgasms I’d absolutely lose my mind.

With him by my side, touching me, nuzzling into me, whispering how he couldn’t get enough of me, it felt amazing to fly so free. Without a roadmap, surrendering to new experiences was a rush. I’d always played it safe, but I sure wasn’t now.

But as the plane descended, some worry did as well, tugging at my elated thoughts. We were re-entering reality, Ash’s reality, with fawning groupies and aggressive PR reps and lecherous band mates. Back in the spotlight, under the glare, I couldn’t help wonder what it would do to us? Alone, I didn’t wonder if things were good and real between us. I just knew. But surrounded by all that teeming mess, how could anyone survive? Celebrities were notorious for their tumultuous love lives, bouncing from one person to the next. I could see why, when they had nothing real around them, just hype piled up on hype.

Plus there was the fact that Ash and I hadn’t even begun this with real intentions. What were the chances we could keep this going? Slim to none.

As if he could sense the doubts tumbling up inside of me, Ash slipped an arm around me and drew me close to him. His presence was like a drug, and I relaxed into it, his scent, his strength. He held my hand as we exited the plane, entwined his arms around me as we rode over in the limo.

A few men with cameras greeted us upon arrival at the hotel, even at the early dawn hour. He steered me through it all, strong and sure, up to the hotel room. There in the dark, he led me into the bedroom, drew me into bed and rested my head against his chest. No one there, just the two of us, I listened to the beat of his heart and knew. I knew how we felt about each other.

Hours later, the ringing of my phone blended into my dreams. Ash and I were out to dinner back in Paris. But every time either of us tried to say something, our phones would ring. And ring.

Opening an eye, I realized my phone on the bedside table was ringing.

“Hello?” I rubbed my eyes, my voice heavy laden and groggy with sleep.

“Are you up yet?” Lola’s voice exploded through the phone. “You’ve got to start getting ready!”

“What?” I sat up more, snapping on the lamp. Vegas, right, I was in Vegas. With Ash, only he wasn’t there beside me anymore. Hadn’t we fallen asleep together that morning? But apparently he’d already gotten up and headed out.

“Are you still sleeping?”

“Um…” I rubbed my eyes, trying to wake myself up. Apparently massive amounts of sex required massive amounts of sleep for recovery.

Lola swore like a sailor on the other end. “Get in the shower. I’ll send the girls up in 10.”

True to her word, the girls were up in 10 minutes, exactly when I emerged from the shower to a knock at the door. Three of them, a team to prepare me for Vegas, the show, the cameras, the engagement. It was a lot.

There was plenty of room in our VIP suite for them to spread out and this time, I welcomed their attention. It felt like suiting up in armor for the big fight. Out in the coliseum, I’d get displayed to the masses. I needed everything they could give me.

They did not disappoint. Vegas required over-the-top and they shot right on over with glitter and gold. The dress they squeezed me into had thin straps and cups that barely covered my breasts leading down into a deep V. They used some sort of invisible tape to bring my breasts together right at the base, a trade secret I guessed. It held the cups in place and gave me X-rated cleavage.

The dress technically ended mid-thigh, but really it ended even further up than that. The hemline of the cloth was barely legal, and then it sort of melted into jewels, fading away into a few glittery gems and then nothing but leg.

I’d never worn anything like it before. I’d never even seen anyone in person wearing anything like it. I was bedazzled and bedazzling.

The blowout took about 15 hours. I tried not to get impatient, but it was hard when the woman styling me seemed to work the same strand around her roller brush again and again and again. She must have picked up on my impatience because she explained,

“It’s got to last. You’re not on stage until midnight.”

Right. Lola had planned this all out down to the second. She’d sent me an email with an agenda requiring military precision. She’d missed her true calling as a SWAT team commander. I could really picture her in camo yelling at troops to move it on out at O-Four-Hundred Hours!

Tonight, Ash’s show started late, a New Year’s special, and I was the finale. Or his proposal to me was, at least. After their set, Ash was supposed to disappear for longer than usual. The rest of the band would go back on stage and noodle around, build anticipation, looking at each other and shrugging like ‘where is he, man?’

Then Ash would strut back on stage with me in tow. There, under the klieg lights, he’d introduce me to the crowd as the love of his life. Then he’d bend down on one knee, offer up a ring and ask me to marry him.

Whew. It made my knees week and I was already sitting down in the privacy of my hotel room. Getting up on stage in front of thousands of people, that made me want to vomit right there. But then coupling it with The Question? From Ash Black? My head swirled in so many different directions, again I felt grateful to be sitting down. Eager to see him again, excited to have that moment with him, let down that it was all for show. But I couldn’t really be wanting him to ask me something like that for real, could I? We hadn’t even known each other for a full three weeks yet.

But there was something about how we clicked. Stranger things had happened, hadn’t they? People seemed to fall fast when it was right. Look at my ex, he’d found someone soon after me and they’d already tied the knot. Ash and I had met each other’s families. Taken a trip to Paris together. Been to each other’s places of work.

But who was I kidding? We’d barely scratched the surface with each other, and this

was all for show anyway. Better to just enjoy the ride and stop asking so many questions.

I didn’t have time for more ruminations, anyway, because thank God the blowout finally stopped and I was ushered down into a VIP lounge for VIP apps and photos. Lola passed me around like an hor d’oeuvre on a plate, introducing me as Ash’s girl, the one you’ve been hearing so much about, etc. I smiled and laughed and tried to make chit chat, playing it cool even when I spoke to celebrities so famous their faces had graced magazine covers in the past month. Like me.

“You’re so cute!” one starlet gushed at me, seeming overly bright. I didn’t know enough about drugs to take a guess about what she was on, but she made perky look boring. “I love your dress!” she exclaimed, all exclamation points all the time.

“I liked you in that movie with Seth Rogan.” I wasn’t sure if that was the right kind of thing to say to her. Was it weird to talk to movie stars about the movies they’d been in? But it was true. She’d been funny.

“You are so sweet!” She leaned into me, modulating her voice yet still seeming to speak in exclamations. “You have to tell me who did your breasts! They’re supes amaze!”

Tags: Callie Harper Beg For It Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net