10: In Which She Closes a Chapter

10: In Which She Closes a Chapter

************************

“It’s Saturday. Don’t you ever take a break?”

“Technically, you’re still working.”

“No, because I’m not a prostitute.”

“So you say.” I punctuated my sentence with a kiss on Ashton’s bare shoulder. Swinging my legs over the bed, I got to my feet and stretched. “I had to go crawling back to the station, remember? It’s a miracle they took me back so I’m not screwing this up by sleeping in with you.”

Ashton rolled his eyes. “The only people who listen to your show are whiny, pathetic little females.”

“I guess that’s why you tune in sometimes.” I stuck my tongue out at him and turned on my heel, heading to the bathroom. I’d become more than used to him ragging on Ask Amor on a daily basis like a bully in a playground.

“Don’t even think of joining me!” I called out, standing under the showerhead. Settling for a lukewarm blast, I ran my hands through my hair.

Ashton banged a fist against the glass door, making me jump out my skin. He let out a bark of laughter. “Why so jumpy, Amor Page?” he chuckled, pulling open the door and stepping inside the stall.

“Arsehole.”

He took my loofah from my hands. “OK. Let me make it up to you by scrubbing your back.”

“No, thanks. I’ll never leave if you do.” A hiss left my lips when his arms came around me and he thrust his hardness against my behind. “Ashton, no.”

The soapy loofah was brought against my chest, and Ashton began to slowly rub it against the swell of my breasts in circular motions. Leaning into him, I gradually began to relax. I suddenly felt like staying home the whole day and pissing Roxanne off with my unprofessionalism.

“No wonder you smell of apricots and sex.” Ashton’s breath was in my ear as he scrubbed my front with all the gentleness of a nursemaid. Moving even lower, his breathing becoming more ragged in my ear, I felt my entire body tense up. It was torture to feel my pússy begging for his attention and know that he was going to tantalisingly prolong the moments leading up to his touch.

“Please,” I found myself begging. “Ashton, please.”

His chin was in the crook of my shoulder. “I love it when you beg, Amor.”

My sponge was dropped to the enamel ground and Ashton’s powerful fingers slid inside my sex, the shock making the pleasure ten times better. I pressed myself into his hand, simultaneously arching my back away from the heat of his body. Ashton’s thumb was on my clít, thrumming it with torturous intensity. Just when I thought I could feel the surge of a powerful orgasm, his hand was retracted and he spun me around, shoving me up against one wall and hauling me up into his arms. In one fluid motion, he penetrated me and I finally saw what was so appetising about sex in the shower. The water was warm, Ashton was hot and I was in a liquid state.

Seizing his shoulders for support, I gave as good as I got, wanting him to go as deep as he could; to fill me up with his manhood. Ashton rammed into me with the kind of force that would leave a bruise somewhere unpleasant but that was what I wanted. Thrust after thrust, he pleasured me and when I finally climaxed, he tugged at my hair and followed, pain shooting through my skull.

Panting, he gently set me on the ground and placed a soft kiss on my forehead. “I won’t keep you any longer, love of my life,” he breathed, a smile tugging at his lips.

Love of my life? I thought, turning around and facing the jet of water. Ashton had never used the word ‘love’ before. Don’t hang onto that word, Amor. Just don’t.

“That’s extremely gracious of you,” I told him, breathing heavily.

“You dropped your sponge,” he pointed out, and I glanced at my loofah on the ground. “Pick it up,” he continued.

“Don’t even think about it,” I whispered, swallowing. “I swear, Ashton, if you so much as tickle my arse, I will throw a fit.” A light bulb going on in my head, I squatted and picked it up, quickly getting back up to my feet. “There we go.”

Ashton leaned against the opposite wall. “If you want anal, just say so.” The laughter in his voice made me turn around.

“I don’t,” I said breathlessly. “That’s...that’s disgusting.”

He raised a brow. “Disgusting? Amor, how the hell do you give women sexual advice if the thought of anal gives you the creeps?” he asked incredulously. “And what about that book you were going to write? No one wants to read about conservative, vanilla sex. There’s only so much you can write about the missionary position.”

I scowled at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t say that it gave me the creeps, Ashton. I just said that it’s not for me.”

“How do you know if you haven’t tried, babe?” There was a challenge in his eyes; a challenge I knew I wouldn’t like at all.

I glanced at his astonishing hard-on. “Is that the kind of thing that turns you on? The idea of fúcking someone in the arse?”

“No. It’s the thought of fúcking you in the ass that turns me on,” he growled, and I shivered at how primal he sounded. “It’s the thought of you experiencing it. With me.”

“Will you be gentle?” I asked before I could even rethink my fearful tone. I sounded like a frightened schoolgirl, so afraid of experimenting. I thought I’d let go of that girl but clearly she was still inside there.

Ashton stood up straight and beckoned me toward him. “At first...but after that, I can’t promise anything.”

“Oh, what the heck,” I muttered, running my hands down his slick chest. “I want you now even more than I did five minutes ago.”

“Is that so?” He cupped the globes of my ass. “Then I hope you’re still wet. I don’t want to tear your ass apart.”

My eyes widened. “Can that happen?”

Ashton chuckled. “You amaze me sometimes.” His lips met mine when he tilted my face to his. With no preamble, his tongue slid across my lips and entered my mouth, vigorous and voracious. Our tongues began a duel that had me wanting to feel him inside every nook and cranny. Slowly, his hands travelled to the opening of my dripping pússy and he began the slow and steady act of satisfying me with his fingers once more. It didn’t take long for me to come in his hand.

Ashton pulled away, his eyes darkened with mirrored desire. “Turn around and bend,” he commanded.

I’m so going to be late for work.

I turned. And bent, palming myself against the wall.

The next thing I felt was Ashton’s hand rubbing against the slick of my pússylips and circling my other opening with the moisture. It was one of the most gratifying things I’d ever felt and I almost climaxed again from that simple touch.

Before that could happen, he slowly, tentatively stuck a finger inside me. I let out a sharp cry, of surprise more than pain, really. This was so very, very wrong. Sodomy was so very wrong. Still, it wasn’t as if he’d never put a finger in there. It was just that this time, he was more...insistent with it.

“Relax, babe,” he murmured, his other hand moving to my cúnt. He drove two fingers inside my wet heat, playing my opening like an instrument. “That’s it, Amor,” he said approvingly, when I began to buck against him. I rubbed my clít, slowly.

Ashton eased another finger inside me, massaging the slickness from my pússy into my snug arse; making it slick, making it ready. I whimpered, confused by the different sensations of this dual penetration. For long moments, Ashton simply fúcked his fingers into both my openings, coaxing me to painful orga$m after orga$m, until he was the only thing holding me up.

“Your cum is so thick, Amor,” he remarked in a low growl, running the head of his c0ck along the seam of my arse. “I need to be balls-deep inside you.”

Oh, hell.

Ashton gripped my waist with both hands and gradually eased the tip of his length into the tautness of my arse, pressing against my sphincter muscles. Slowly, he pushed his way inside and I gasped, both from the pain and the different sensations I was experiencing. If I’d thought my clít was sensitive, my rear was a whole different ball park of sensitivity.

“Bloody hell,” I wheezed when he began a slow and steady rhythm inside me.

“So tight,” he groaned painfully, sliding a finger back into the warmth of my front. I thought I’d climax right then.

He began to pump furiously into me, holding my cheeks apart as he seamlessly took his pleasure and gave me mine. The sensation of his balls smacking against my sensitive flesh, coupled with his fingers delving inside me, heightened the pleasure of it all. I wanted to feel his entire length and if I could take him even deeper, I would.

To my surprise, Ashton came first, his groans mingling with mine when I came right after, so out of breath I thought my heart had given up.

When it was over and Ashton withdrew from me, I shakily stepped out the shower and grabbed a towel, heading back into my bedroom. I was sore all over. There was no way I could look him in the eye now. Absolutely no way in hell.

Best dirty sex of your life, Amor? my conscience asked me, and I felt a smile play across my face.

You have no idea.

The sound of Ashton’s message tone brought me to my senses.

We’re not friends and we’re not dating. Just what the hell is this? Work?

Ashton loved Avicii’s music, hence the annoying buzz of Levels. Grabbing his Blackberry from my nightstand, I tapped open the message in a bid to stop the noise he called music.

Tomorrow evening: Ivanka; Classic Car Auction (black-tie); The Black Gardens; 7pm – Cheers, Monty

Perhaps it was foolish of me to think that I was the only woman Ashton was seeing. Victor had been exclusively mine but maybe that was because he wasn’t much of a looker, to be honest. Ashton, on the other hand... Of course he had other needy, wealthy women on his agenda. He was probably sleeping with this Ivanka, who was bound to be six-foot-something, blonde and exotic.

“I thought I heard my phone.” Ashton stood in all his naked glory in the doorway.

“You have a message.” I flung his phone at him and he neatly caught it in one hand, thwarting my attempt to smash it into a thousand pieces.

“And you read it?”

“I wanted your stupid fúcking phone to shut up!” I exploded. Amor, what are you doing? Stop it.

Ashton glanced at the message then back at me. “You’re mad.”

“About what?” I grabbed my bathrobe from the chair and draped it over my body. Everything was all wrong now. He had no right to see my body.

“Look, Amor... I know what you’re thinking but I –”

“Just get dressed! I don’t want to see you naked! Put some clothes on!”

He strode past me and pulled on his boxers. “Better?”

“How much do I owe you?”

“What are you talking about?”

I glared at him. “How much do I owe you for all the nights you spent here giving me 0rgasm after 0rgasm?”

It was his turn to shoot daggers at me. “Don’t insult me.”

“Don’t insult my intelligence by pretending that this was all just about pleasure. You were clearly on the job!” I spat. “So how much do I owe you?”

Ashton raised his hand and for a minute, I thought he was going to hit me. His hand hung in the air like a noose. He stared at it in confusion before letting it fall to his side.

“You bring out the worst in me,” he said darkly, turning around and looking for the rest of his clothes. “I don’t know why the fúck I even bother. You’re evidently damaged goods.”

“Bastard,” I said sharply. I grabbed the nearest thing I could find – my bedside clock – and hurled it at his back. It caught him straight on and he whirled around, murder on his face.

“You don’t want to pick a fight with me, Amor.”

“Go ahead and hit me, you...you shítface!”

“Don’t tempt me,” he said dryly, pulling on his jeans. “I swear, Amor, I am two seconds away from doing it.”

“Get out of my house!”

“Oh, shut the hell up, you drama queen.”

I felt the first sign of tears prickling at my eyes and I willed myself not to cry in front of him. Again.

But I could taste the saltiness in my mouth.

“You’re scared of feeling any kind of emotion, Amor, and I pity you,” he said in a low voice. “Maybe it’s because of what happened in your past. But it’s more likely due to the fact that you’re such a bítch.” He paused. “Fúck. Are you crying?”

“Just go!”

“Amor, I’m so –”

“Get out.”

He left.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the end of that.

***

“Don’t you hear the sound of your biological clock ticking, Amor?” said Grace, cocking an ear dramatically. “Because I do.”

I grimaced, watching her change Patrick’s diaper. Suddenly the nursery seemed even smaller. And smellier. “For Pete’s sake, Grace, I’m not old.”

“I want nephews and nieces. It’s going to be lonely for poor Pat over here.” Grace grinned at her son, who grinned right back up at her. “You want another baby to pway wif, don’t you, baby?”

I never knew baby-speak could irritate me until I heard Grace do it. Her L’s became W’s and her th’s completely disappeared and reappeared as F’s. It was disgustingly annoying and traumatising all at the same time. That was probably the real reason why children grew up speaking like morons until they entered mainstream school.

“If you’re going to pressure me into having a baby, I’m going to leave,” I threatened Grace.

She scooped Pat up and cradled him in her arms. “What happened to that...interesting young man you were dating? Adam?”

“Ashton,” I said through clenched teeth. “He left the country. I think he wasn’t paying his taxes. Actually, it might have been the paedophilia charge he was running away from. Good thing he’s never met Patrick.”

Grace met my eyes. “Well, that’s funny. Mum and I bumped into him at Starbucks and he said you dumped him.” Pecking Patrick’s downy head, she handed him over to me. “Mum was horrified, to say the least. Despite his... different appearance, we thought you two were in love.”

“Love?” I snorted, staring down at my nephew’s bright face. “We were never in love. My goodness, Grace, he was an escort. I hired him. Paid him to be with me.” There was no longer any need for pretences and to be honest, I didn’t really care anymore. I would never contact Monty again.

My sister’s eyes became wide as saucers. “He was a what?”

“Escort. And so was Victor. And Jason. And Martin.”

“Victor, too?” she hissed in shock. She quickly collected herself. “But...but why, Amor?”

Patrick took my thumb in his hand. “Because I’ve never dated anyone before. And this was much simpler.” I considered the way I’d let feelings come in the way of what was supposed to be business with Ashton. “At least, I thought it was.”

“Never?” Grace blurted out. “But you’re gorgeous! Why not? And don’t tell me it’s because of your work. Talking to people on the radio is hardly strenuous.”

“I like to control things, Grace. It’s the only way I know. It’s safer that way.”

After a long silence, it hit me that this was the first time I’d opened up to anyone, especially Grace. We were never as close as sisters were supposed to be. I mean, honestly, I’d opened up to Ashton first.

“What do you mean by safer?”

I handed her baby back to her and turned to the window. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to face anyone while I recounted this story. “You remember when I was fourteen and I stopped talking to everyone? Right before Daddy died? And...after?”

“Yes,” Grace said quietly.

“I was raped.”

Seconds passed before I felt Grace whirling me around to embrace me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered into my ear, clutching me to her. It felt strange to be in her arms, yet oddly comforting. “Oh, sweet Amor. I’m so sorry.”

“I have to go, Grace.” I pulled away from her, looking her in the eye. “Promise me you won’t tell Mum.”

“What?” She reached out and held my hand. “Why not?”

“She’d worry and I don’t want her to. I’m fine. Really. I’m fine.”

“But you’re not. It’s ruined your chance at happiness, Amor,” she said softly. “I feel like such an awful sister!”

“I’m fine.” I squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Thank you for lunch. I have to get to the station for my slot.”

“I’m coming over tonight. I’ll bring Patrick and we’ll have a girls’ night in. Is that okay?”

I thought about it. “Yes. I’d like that.”

And I meant it.

*

“My message today is for all the single ladies out there. Being single doesn’t have to be a death sentence. Sometimes it’s a time to discover who you really are, which might sound incredibly idiotic, but try it – it might be exactly what you need.

This is Amor Page saying good evening to every single one of you beautiful ladies out there. I hope your weekend’s treating you well so far.” I paused, glancing at the blinking switchboard. “And we have our first caller tonight. Hello, Janet.”

“Hi, Amor. I have a question about monsters-in-law. How do I deal with mine?”

I laughed even when I didn’t feel like it. “How much do you love your husband?”

“Very much. We’ve been together for four years now but his mother still hasn’t accepted me.”

“What’s her excuse?”

“I have no idea.”

“It’s a tricky situation. You don’t want to pit son against mother so you might have to...”

My advice to Janet was simple and easy and I quickly went on to my next caller, who wanted to know if guys actually enjoyed foreplay. The night waned and I became tired. The callers became more explicit with their requests, something I wasn’t exactly in the mood for. The freaks obviously came out at night.

“All right. Final caller. Evening, Ashlynn.”

“Hey, Amor.” Ashlynn’s voice was a deep baritone that sure as hell didn’t sound like a woman’s.

“How may I help?”

“I’d like to know why some women can’t have fun. You know, just loosen up and live in the moment.”

“Is this a general question or are we discussing your girlfriend?” I pursued.

“We’re talking about a woman. A very striking, smart and stubborn woman. I thought she was my woman.”

“I’m very keen on discussing the dynamics in a same-sex relationship so I –”

“I’m a guy. But you already knew that.”

I took a deep breath. “Ashton?”

“Ten points to Slytherin.”

Despite myself, I smiled. “Why Slytherin?”

“You threw a clock at me.”

“I overreacted. I’m sorry.” Looking up, I found Roxanne giving me a ‘what-the-hell-is-going-on’ expression.

“Let me explain about that text message. I’ve been trying to grow some balls to call you and tell you that –”

“Don’t say her name on air. In fact, don’t say anything. I don’t want to know about that woman.”

“Wait. OK. That woman is an eighty-year-old Russian socialite. I swear. You can ask anyone,” Ashton went on.

“I really don’t care,” I said, although I felt like the biggest, most jealous idiot on the planet. “Thank you for calling.”

“Jeez, Amor. Would you chill for just one second?” Ashton pleaded. He paused. “I apologise for the way I reacted that day. I’ve spent weeks thinking about the ugly, disgusting things I said to you but dammit, you made me so angry.”

“I made you angry? How do you think I felt, finding out that you were still going around with other women despite... despite the fact that you were sleeping with me?” I knew that I was supposed to be even a tiny bit apprehensive about airing my dirty laundry on air but I wasn’t. Ashton wasn’t going to play the victim here. I wouldn’t let him.

“There was no one else,” he said flatly, as if it were obvious. “How could there have been anyone else when I spent all my time with you? Every second I could get you away from work was a second worth taking.”

I gulped. “We weren’t always together.”

“Do you know that I own the bar you hate so much across the radio station?”

“No. I didn’t know that.” But, now that I thought about it, it made sense. Wild West? I really was slow.

“I’m a man with many fingers in many pies, Amor.” His voice was low and husky and we both knew which kind of pie he was talking about. The pie between my legs throbbed. I crossed one leg over the other, clenching my thighs together.

Roxanne was standing up, her hands forming a T to indicate that my time was running out.

“Ashton, what are you trying to say?” I breathed.

“I’d like to take you out sometime. Tonight, if it’s possible.”

“If I say no?”

He sighed. “You’ll embarrass me on national radio. All my friends would humiliate me for the rest of my life.”

“I thought only whiny little women listened to my show.”

“I listen to you. Every night.”

Roxanne was jumping about like a crazed ape behind the glass.

“I accept your invitation,” I murmured, and then, clearing my throat, I said in a loud voice, “This is Amor Page, signing out. Have a loved-up evening, everyone.”

Wrenching my headphones off and grabbing my handbag, I got to my feet and exited the booth. Roxanne was waiting for me outside.

“What the hell was that?” she exploded, hand on one hip.

“Nothing. I was doing my...” I trailed off when I spotted Ashton in the middle of the hallway, standing there as if he owned the place. “Excuse me, Roxy.”

Rox turned around and nodded. “Oh. I see.” She turned on her heel and went the other way, leaving us alone in the passageway.

“Were you in here the whole time?” I asked Ashton, finally locating my tongue and using it. He looked unfairly delicious in a black tuxedo while I was still in the blue-and-white cotton dress I’d worn to lunch at Grace’s house. It probably had baby vomit on it.

“Outside, actually,” he replied, closing the space between us in two short strides. “You look even better up close.”

“I’m sorry about the clock. Honestly, I don’t know what came over –”

His fingers came over my lips, shutting me up. “First things first, Amor...” he began, digging into his pocket. He handed me a thick wad of money. “This belongs to you.”

I stared at it. “What’s this for?”

“That’s all the money you’ve ever paid Monty where I was concerned,” he said quietly, “plus that cheque you wrote out that one time. I was going to give it all to you the day you unceremoniously kicked me out.”

I stared at the notes in my hand, astonished. “I...I don’t know what to say, Ashton.”

He cupped my chin in his hand, forcing me to meet his emerald gaze. “How about you say nothing and pucker up?”

I didn’t protest when he kissed me. No bone in my body would allow me to. He kissed me hungrily, passionately, as if he hadn't seen me in weeks – which he hadn’t. When he pulled away, I licked my lips, committing the taste of him to memory.

“I think I might love you,” I exhaled.

He pulled me to him, his eyes suddenly earnest. “Then that’s where we differ. I know I love you, you silly woman.”

I felt it right then. His love. It ensnared me like one of Teddy’s hugs and refused to let me go. I wasn’t afraid of it.

Smiling, I snaked one arm around his waist and allowed him to lead me out the building. It was raining outside but it took me a while to notice, and when I did, I found that I didn’t give a damn.

~FIN~

A/N: There WILL be an epilogue, so look out for that. Amor might or might not be a writer. She might or might not still be with Ashton. But if she IS, she might or might not have him around for the practical side of her book... I had fun writing this book and that’s because of all of you, so thank you =) My next short story – The Ex – is already up so please go show it some love. As always, kisses!