Breaking His Rules Read online

  After closing the garage I headed toward the condo and waited as Ash walked into the entryway. It was a bit of a mess, but the last few days had been busy and I hadn’t had the time to clean my house. I took a few of the dishes from the island and placed them in the sink. “Please excuse the me—”

  “Nonsense. I’ll need to hire a cleaning service before I can even let you come over to my place. It’s quite the bachelor pad,” he said from behind me.

  When I turned, I found him gathering up the fruit bowl and knife that I’d left on the island. He brought them over to the sink beside me and laid them inside. “Thank you.”

  “No problem. I’m buttering you up for the pancakes I want later. But for now, how about some wine?”

  I had a Chardonnay that had been chilling since earlier in the day, thankfully. “I’ve got some white wine. You sure you want something so light after tonight?” I moved away from him, the proximity making me think of something other than talking, which is exactly what I’d said we would not do. Something about him exuded sex appeal and hit me right in the center of my chest.

  “Yeah, I’m good. It may very well be the first complete drink I’ll have tonight. I can’t seem to finish one. I’ll get glasses, and then you can tell me how you met your charming ex-husband.”

  “Not much to tell really. We started dating while we were in college. Junior year, actually. He was different then. And he was there for me every year when I visited my parents’ grave, and for every upset or crisis. Looking back, he’d never been my idea of an ideal relationship. But still,” I said, pausing for the pop of the cork escaping the bottle, “I was all in after graduation. He didn’t get really bad until a few years ago. He had always been wrong for me, but then he started being violent. We would get—”

  “Yeah, he seems the type.”

  “Right. So, I’d called the police a few times and I thought he was on the straight and narrow. Then came the women, the missing money from the account, and finally, he sprinted from alcohol to drugs. I filed for divorce, and because we were married, he was entitled to half my earnings from the club since it was acquired during the marriage. I was ordered to either buy him out or sell it. I’d worked too hard, you know? Well, because of that, I’m stuck with him until I can buy him out.”

  “That’s completely tragic. Really a bit for shit, I must say.”

  I brought the bottle over to the stool where he sat, and poured wine into the glasses. When I was done, I took the stool closest to him. “Yup, indeed.”

  “Funny how substance abuse can take pieces of your soul.”

  “Yeah…” It didn’t take much to realize he was speaking from experience. I turned to look at him as he took a sip of his wine and caught the faraway expression in his eyes. “Did you know someone who had a problem?”

  “Who doesn’t? Hey, you mind if we sit on the couch? I was a much younger man when I had my last fight.”

  I raked my eyes over him, and for sure, he looked like he’d been through the ringer. “Oh yeah. And give me that shirt. I’ll soak the bloodstains and get it laundered for you. It’s a bit too Marc Jacobs winter 2016 for it to go in the garbage.”

  He laughed, a weak smile forming on his lips. “You know your fashion, lady.” He stood and slid off the immaculately tailored jacket, handing it to me, and then got to work on the buttons of his shirt. Beneath it was a fine cotton tank, highlighting the tight, muscular ridges of his pecs. I was dying a slow death while watching him.

  Talk.

  We said we would talk.

  When he extended the shirt to me, I flipped it over my arm along with the jacket. “All right, now go have a seat before you pass out on me. Man, I thought I was the old one here,” I said.

  “What do you mean?”

  I didn’t look up at him, just took the clothes and walked over to my infrequently used laundry room, hung up his jacket on one of the satin-wrapped hangers, and proceeded to put the shirt in the tub and run cold water over it. I put a little stain remover on it, just like I did with my nicer dresses that somehow always got drinks spilled on them. The hazards of working in a club.

  By the time I got back to the living room, he had taken his shoes off and his head was resting on the back of the couch. Man, he must have been really tired. At once, I felt guilty for all the therapy sex I’d been thinking of having with him.

  “There,” I said, announcing myself as I approached him.

  “That was really kind of you. I’m not the type of guy who knows exactly how to take care of clothes. Everything I own goes to the dry cleaner. I don’t even own a washer or dryer.”

  “I probably shouldn’t have one. Not exactly a domestic goddess. I thank God every day for the people who help me out around here.”

  “Never made the investment…probably should because it gets expensive to—”

  The realization of what happened hit me in an instant. “Hey, you changed the subject, sir. Quite successfully, might I add.”

  “I did…can’t blame a guy for trying. But once I’m done, you have to tell me why you’ve been masquerading as younger than me for a week and a half.”

  “I’m forty-one. There. Back to your story.” It was an attempt to get back on topic. He was so charming I’d never learn anything about him if I kept letting him change the subject. And I didn’t need the extra butterflies in my stomach every time he said something nice to me.

  I wasn’t actually sure if he was extremely private or if it was a sore spot for him, but he sucked in a deep breath before slowly exhaling. “My father. My best memories of him were in the early days. He would leave work early from the factory and surprise her. We lived in New York then and my mum wouldn’t let me outside alone. So I was always there to witness him coming home. My mum was always cooking something when he made it in, at least that’s the way I remember it. She wore this…this yellow apron with flowers on it. Anyway, her dress would swirl around her legs as he held her up and kissed her on the mouth. I would blanch. Quite literally, and make all kinds of yuck-sick noises, but they ignored me. Until it was my turn. He’d charge me, grabbing me up and tossing me into the air. My mother would have a fit. He was a tall guy and could have easily given me a concussion from banging my head on the ceiling. She’d get after us, run us from the kitchen, and call us the worst kind of menaces. I loved it.”

  “That is so sweet.”

  “It was quite, really. But then, when she got sick….I was helpless to do anything. I was nearly eleven. I watched as the light in his eyes died as her cancer progressed. It just ripped through her until she was a shadow of a woman. By the time the end came, you couldn’t even recognize her. Except for her eyes. They still sparkled, but more from tears than anything else. And my father…The guy couldn’t even stay in New York. We ended up moving here. He worked for a few years at Ford Motor Company, and eventually digressed from functional alcoholic to not functional at all. He was placed on medical leave, and thanks to the UAW, got a disability check. He would drink his way through it month after month. It was like I wasn’t even there.” Ashton cleared his throat and straightened up on the couch, scrubbing his hands through his thick blond hair. “I thought my father was going to move back to London, but we never did. Instead we moved from New York to Detroit. He found a job at one of the Big Three auto companies and this became home. That’s the story. Just like a hundred other stories of a bad childhood.”

  “Has your father passed away?” The words choked as they came, but I managed somehow to get the question out.

  “No. No…he’s just down the street in a nursing facility. He rarely speaks, and it gets harder and harder to go visit him. I just sit beside him while he acts like I’m not there…still, after all these years. It’s not a new thing. After twenty-three years, you’d think I would be used to it by now. So I’m down to two visits a year at this point.”

  “I�
�m so sorry, Ash—”

  He cut me off by raising his hand in the air, “No, no. Not tonight. I’m here for you, you see. Tonight, I’m your safe harbor. Not the other way around.”

  I hadn’t realized I was close to tears, but when I blinked one trailed down my face.

  There are times when you have nothing else left to say or do for someone other than to offer simple human comfort. I went with it, leaning close, as close as one could be to another person, then kissed him. I needed to touch him as our connection deepened. I placed my hands on his face, the soft hair of his beard beneath my fingertips.

  When I felt his hands on my waist, I gave myself over to him, allowing him to guide me onto his lap, straddling him. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled him closer, as if I wanted to become one person with him. There are wounds so deep that no one can touch them, but there we were, our wounds open and exposed, consoling each other with our bodies and spirits.

  He pulled my dress off over my head, and I could hear the stretching of fabric on the fitted garment that was meant to be unzipped and stepped out of. I pressed my mouth against his once more as he pulled at my bra strap, opening it, but neither of us willing to move apart in order to free it from my body. His fingers ran the length of my back, finding their way to my panties and gripping my ass with his strong hands. I ground against his erection, the friction of my underwear and his pants massaging my sex until I could feel myself coming undone, a tight coil in me releasing.

  I allowed him into my pain and sadness in that moment, our bodies fused together and taking all the medicine for the soul we had to give. Broken, yet alive in each other’s arms.

  Chapter 15

  Ashton

  A stream of light from outside fell across Terra’s face as I watched her remove her shoes, tights, and finally she went for her panties. I had successfully managed to cap off the geyser of emotion brewing in my gut enough to focus on the beautiful woman before me, as opposed to the ugliest part of my past. Part of me felt like a world-class asshole for wanting her so badly I could hardly breathe, considering all she’d been through earlier in the evening. Then there was the other part of me, dominating the landscape and clouding my head with visions of what I planned to do to her all night.

  “Slow. Take them off slowly,” I demanded.

  A smile, anything but sweet, formed on her full lips and I watched as she peeled down one side of her panties, then the other, her fingers playing at the delicate black lace. The second she was done, I was going to spread her out on her fine gray couch and put everything I had inside of her—fingers, tongue, and cock. She had opened me up in ways no one had ever been able to in a matter of days, and for that she was some kind of fucking miracle. Miracle or not, by the end of the night, she would come, screaming my name, and get more thoroughly fucked than she’d ever been in her life. Of that, I would be sure.

  “Like this?” she said, pulling the left side down her smooth thigh just a centimeter, then down the other, a touch more, her hips gyrating the soft lace peeled free from her body. As she moved, her sex played peekaboo with me, making my cock tighten and swell, angry with me for not releasing it from its confines.

  It was sweet torture. The sweetest. “Yeah, just like that,” I growled. My voice took on the tone of a caged animal that hadn’t eaten in days.

  When they were off her, Terra bent all the way down, picked up the delicate material, and moved over, her knees going to either side of me, and straddled me once more. “What do you want me to do with them?” she asked, her voice raspier than before, and lowered her lids over eyes filled with heat and passion.

  I took them from her, placed the leg holes over her wrists, and tightened them until they were like handcuffs. “I can think of a few things.” My cock pulsed against her softness and her scent flowed around me.

  I placed her beside me, laying her back on the couch, and lifted her arms over her head by the panties. “Stay there,” I commanded, daring her with my eyes to move. I kissed her hard on her lips, biting the lower one as I pulled away.

  She nodded, hands grabbing at the material of the panties and holding on as if they were actually restrained. I took her in as I undressed, surveying her warm brown teardrop-shaped breasts, smooth stomach, and endlessly long legs. She was a masterpiece.

  I gave a silent prayer of thanks to the Lord that I’d replaced my condoms out of habit, even if I hadn’t thought I would be having sex that evening. I slipped on the condom, smoothing it over my length. Terra watched the show, biting her bottom lip just where I had. She seemed to long for the rough play by the way she looked at me with hooded eyes. When I moved back toward the couch, she opened her legs for me.

  I gave her thigh a slap and lowered my body until my mouth was inches away from her mound. I buried my face in her, my tongue exploring her sweetness, drawing circles over her flesh with enough pressure to make her legs quiver near my ears and her hands slide into my hair, the elastic of the panties sounding out as she stretched the fabric. Her body arched, and she pushed me deeper, all while I drove into her with my tongue. I pulled her body closer, latching on to her hips so she couldn’t get away. Her delicious moans—my name, Jesus’s name, and the oohs and aahs—a symphony in the quiet of her living room.

  When she came, she screamed, the release a pulsing rock against my mouth that didn’t stop my pressure. Not until her thighs tightened around my neck to the point of asphyxiation.

  I released her, staying between her legs, and watched as her hands went up to her head, fingers buried in her hair as if she were trying to keep her head on her body.

  “How do you want it tonight, Terra? Rough or gentle?” I asked her.

  Rising, I watched and waited for her to open her eyes, the reality of the question settling over her. “What?” she asked, voice ragged, from her screaming no doubt.

  “I asked you if you want it rough. Or easy.”

  Her brows knit together, “I don’t…”

  “You do know. You know what you want. How do you want me to have you? I’m here for you tonight, Terra. You get to tell me how to fuck you. Don’t lie to yourself about what you want.” I was dead serious, staring at her, my heart pounding, and the strain of my sack, heavy with the need to release clouding my ability to restrain myself.

  She worried her lip, one arm still tangled in her panties, and raised herself up on her elbows to watch me. Her eyes, layered with the postorgasmic haze, darted back and forth as if the choice had physically materialized in the dimly lit room. “Rough,” she whispered, as if she wasn’t certain.

  “You sure, Terra?” I asked again.

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “Terra…you will not walk well tomorrow and all the neighbors will know my name,” I teased.

  Her eyes grew wide as I drew in close and helped her stand from the couch. I grabbed her arms and rubbed them, smoothing over her soft skin. Turning her, I pulled her wrists behind her back and positioned her on her knees into the softness of the couch. Taking her wrists, I used the panties to pull them together and bent her at her hips, her face turned to the side on the seat of the couch. She exhaled, a little squeal on the end of it.

  “I’m going to take you, Terra,” I said as I ran my fingers over her sex from the back and slipped them inside her. She tightened inside around my two fingers and moaned.

  I slid behind her, my knees inside hers, and pulled her back against my body. I took my time placing my cock inside her, her softness enveloping me and adjusting to my size. With a yank, I pressed myself as deep as I could go, holding her by her wrists, the panties preventing me from bruising her delicate skin.

  “Ashton,” she called out, her voice soaked in lust.

  “If I get too rough for you, you tell me, Terra. Tell me to stop. Understand?” I was no monster, but I wanted to claim her. In no way did I want her to feel threatened or in danger, but s
he was mine.

  “Yes, I understand,” she said. Her voice was muffled. “Keep going, Ashton. I want you to fuck me.”

  There was a conflict raging inside me, given that normally, different relationships unfolded prior to the actual act of sex. This was not one of those times, my need to dominate her not revealing itself until I was too far gone to have a civilized conversation about it. Still, I resolved to be easy, until she was ready to make a more informed decision. I pressed into her, pulling her back once again, then guiding her away until her body sheathed only the tip of my head. Another spank on the thigh, then I pulled her close again until she mewled into the couch.

  The rhythm progressed as I navigated what she could and could not take, a deep and driving pace, watching her as she bucked against me. The eroticism of her physique fighting against the restraint, tensing and releasing as she took every inch of me, pushed me nearly to the edge, each plunge driving me closer and closer to losing myself.

  She cried out, a heated sweat breaking out over her flesh as the pace increased. “Oh my god, it feels so…so good.”

  Our skin slapped together and I leaned back, pulling her wrists until she was up off the couch and my thighs were beneath her. She pressed herself against me, again and again, the momentum shifting from mine to hers. She took the reins, her hips rocking backward, her core tight on my shaft and sliding up and down until I lost the battle of control. The orgasm rocked me, her scream combined with the pressure of release enough to cripple me.

  With my last remaining ounce of energy, I released her wrists, gently rubbed her arms, and guided her body down until she was flat on the couch. I dragged myself behind her and folded her in my arms, then continued rubbing her back to relieve the soreness that often comes with restraint.

  She panted, her legs shaking against mine, and I stroked her until she could contain herself.