“Oh, thanks.” I found myself feeling myself up in the middle of the party. Were my breasts supes amaze? I hadn’t thought they were that special.
“Perfect size!” she complimented me. And reached out for a quick grab herself. “Oh, and they feel so real!”
“Well, they are real.”
She tossed her head back in a bright gale of laughter, as if I’d said the funniest thing she’d ever heard. Then her eyes narrowed slightly and she looked me straight in the eye. “I’ll find out who did them.” The moment was over almost before it began and she was off with the next partygoer.
New Year’s Eve and Vegas was already hopping, overflowing with money and people wanting to see and be seen. But the one man I wanted to see was nowhere. I’d texted him, but hadn’t heard anything back.
Then Ash and the band splashed into the room, the door banging open at their arrival. Surrounded by an entourage, they drew everyone’s attention, the men of the hour. Now that Ash was in the room, I felt even further away from him.
He looked amazing. He’d shaved and he looked like he’d gotten a trim, then had his locks styled just so in a rock star tousle. He wore black shit-kicking boots and rocked some black leather pants that hugged his broad, muscular thighs and spectacular ass. Slung low, you could see the start of his V on his abdomen and I knew I wasn’t the only one looking. I didn’t know how he did it, but he managed to take a page right out of 1986 Bon Jovi’s Rock God bible without looking cheesy. Maybe it was because he seemed to know exactly what he was doing. It was as if he were saying, tell me you wouldn’t dress like this if you were me?
On top, he wore a black shirt unbuttoned the whole way down, exposing his muscles and tattoos and necklaces. If he weren’t so hot, you might roll your eyes. But he looked so fucking good, and he wore it all with such strut and confidence, a ‘feast your eyes, ladies’ devilish attitude. You had to love it.
I know I did. But I found myself taking a step back, shyly hugging the wall. That couldn’t be the man I’d just spent every waking second of the last few days with, inhaling him, riding him, feeling so connected and amazed.
But he found me. Ash searched the room over until he zeroed in on me, standing in the corner. The crowd literally parted as he walked straight to my side. He took me in his arms, swept me up and kissed me like he’d missed me as much as I’d missed him. The room erupted in cheers, enjoying the show. My cheeks burned.
“I wish we were back in Paris,” he murmured to me, but he turned and raised up his hand, the Roman emperor accepting the adulation of his subjects. He did it so naturally, I almost wondered if I’d heard him correctly. He looked down at me and gave me a wink. “You ready for a wild night?” he asked.
Before I could answer, adoring fans were on us, wanting to hear about Paris, wanting to talk about the show tonight. I let it all wash over me, letting the circus play out without phasing me because through it all, Ash held my hand. That constant connection, the warm pressure of his skin against mine, I didn’t know how it could ground me so much but it did.
“This one here’s the singer,” Ash insisted with one woman who couldn’t take her eyes off of him, even as he pointed her attention directly at me. “You should hear her sing.”
“I don’t know about that,” I protested. In fact, I did know about that—my voice was fine, but it was nowhere near as distinctive or strong as Ash’s. He was just smitten with me. Wait, was he really smitten with me?
“There’s Yoko!” An arm snaked its way around my shoulders, the touch having the opposite effect of Ash’s.
“Hi, Connor.” I hoped my voice didn’t sound as unhappy to see him as I felt. After all, he was Ash’s closest band mate and best buddy.
“How’s our little Yoko Ono doing tonight?”
I smiled weakly. He meant I was breaking up the band, like Yoko did to The Beatles. Ash clapped him on the back, letting his hand rest for a moment at Connor’s neck, grabbing him there. “You’re a funny one, Connor.” His voice definitely had an edge.
“You guys sure heated things up in Paris!” Connor congratulated us. Then he leaned in, just for me. “I liked what I saw in that video of you up against the wall. I’d like to see more later.”
But then more people rushed in, snapping photos, wanting a moment with Ash, a moment with Connor. I brushed off his creepiness and tried to enjoy myself, at the epicenter of celebrity stardom, affixed to a constellation so bright even other genuine stars in their own right were there to worship at his feet.
I guessed it made sense so many were there tonight. What did celebrities do on New Year’s Eve? Did they hang out with their parents like I’d done more than a few times over the years, sipping wine on the couch, debating the relative merits of Dick Clark vs. Ryan Seacrest? No, celebrities PARTIED! And who did they party with? Other celebrities!
Before I knew it, Ash was leaning in to give me a quick goodbye kiss. Show time! Sparkling from champagne, I let Lola lead me away to get a touch-up from stylists, then go hang out backstage where I could watch the show.
From the second the band started up, Ash was on. He’d been amazing in concert when I’d seen him before, but tonight he was on fire. He had such energy, such power in his vocals, such a raw, live pulse pounding out of him. Whatever he had, it was contagious, and I found myself singing along with every word, raising my fist up in the air along with him at the choruses, screaming for more along with the crowd after every song. Every now and then, he’d look backstage right at me and give me a nod or a smile or a wink, letting me know he was thinking of me. He might be out on stage, but he knew I was right there with him.
“He’s the sexiest fucking man on the whole fucking planet,” a girl next to me exclaimed with her tongue practically lolling out onto the floor. I wanted to tell her to roll that tongue right back up into her mouth, that was my man. But I really had to agree, he was the sexiest fucking man on the whole fucking planet. The way that unbuttoned shirt teased the crowd, sometimes slipping down one of his broad, tattooed, muscular shoulders. The shoulders I’d bit and dug my nails into. The way he thrust his hips, rolling them, probably sending half the audience into heat. It was worse knowing how good it felt when he did that hard rocketing straight into me.
By the time they’d finished their set, I’d practically melted into a puddle on the damn floor. Ash rushed off, electric adrenaline practically shooting off of him. A guy took his guitar from him, another removed his microphone, and another handed him a towel, but he locked his eyes on me and never looked away. He grabbed my hand and pulled me, fast and urgent, through the backstage crowd and into a room for the band.
“You’re driving me crazy!” He dragged me in and locked the door after us. “Dancing backstage in that dress.” He was on me in an instant, his lips crushing mine, licking, sucking, biting down my throat
. What did I do? I did what every woman and half the men in that audience had wanted to do for the last hour and a half. I reached up, grabbed that damn shirt and ripped it right off of him, baring his magnificent chest for me to devour.
I sank into him like a starving woman, running my tongue along his pecs, licking the hollow of his neck. He tasted like salt and man, all power and sex.
He grabbed my hips and pulled me with him, over where he leaned back against a table. “Are you worked up, Ana?” he growled in that low, sexy voice he’d just used to make thousands of people go wild.
“Yes!” I growled right back, grinding my hips into him. My dress was short enough that his hands instantly found my bare upper thighs, then pulled it up for more. After having watched him on stage, felt his magnetic presence, let him get me worked up the way he did everyone, I couldn’t believe I got to sink my teeth into him. So I did just that, right at his shoulder, the one he’d occasionally flashed to the crowd. Now it was mine.
“Yeah, that’s it.” He pressed me against him, loving every second of it. He pushed my panties to the side and found my wet heat, melting liquid for him. “Oh, you want it, don’t you, Ana? You want my cock?”
“Yes!” Hands down at the waistband of his pants, I tore at them. I could see the bulge of him, pressing against the leather. He’d been teasing us all with that. Teasing time was over.
“Do you want to come on my cock, Ana?”
“Yes!” Finally, I got his pants unzipped, finally down off of him and wrapped my hands around the most delicious cock I’d ever fantasized about in my life. “Ash, I need you.”
“That’s right,” he groaned as I stroked him, admiring his long, thick shaft. He was so big and knew exactly what to do with every inch.
“I need you inside me.” I grasped him more firmly now, swirling a drop of precome around his wide crown.
“Ride my cock, baby.” He rested back against the table and watched as I stripped off my panties, stepping out of them in my heels. He took out a condom and rolled it out over his length. Then he brought a large hand to my thigh and helped me straddle him, bringing my wet sex right up to where I needed it. I stood up at my full height, a hand at his shoulder to steady myself.