AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I push myself off the counter and turn around, rubbing my eyes as I turn away from the brightly sinking sun to my unlit kitchen. “Send her some flowers? Reds and pinks. Expensive.”
“On it. Want me to read through your lines with you?”
I shake my head. Having David here might help me focus, but I want to be alone. “Take the night off. Go out and have some fun.” One of us should.
David snorts and heads for the door, phone in hand, as he navigates a florist’s website. He pauses in the doorway. “For what it’s worth, I think getting some distance will help with your concentration problem. This role…it’s huge for your career. This is going to show the world you can be more than just the good guy.”
I grit my teeth but nod. He’s right.
“Your obligations consist of a public appearance once a week. I can book a hotel downtown for your use when you need to…um…” he makes a feeble hand gesture that I guess meanshave sex.
“No thanks.” Things would be easier if it was just sex, but it’s not. I want more than a quick and dirty hookup in some hotel once a week. I want her in my life.
David leaves and I pull out my phone. I owe her a call, but I can’t bring myself to press the button. If I talk to her, I’ll want to know about her day. I’ll tell her about mine. We’ll spend at least an hour talking and I have a script to study.
A text is safer.
Hey. Rough day today. Need to cancel dinner to work on the script. Raincheck?
me
I am an asshole. She deserves better than this. I’m about to call her when her text lands.
No problem. Sorry your day sucked. Anything I can do?
Ash
Pretty sure her mouth could solve all of my problems right now. At least for a few blissful hours. But distraction won’t make tomorrow go better.
Nothing. I’ll text you tomorrow.
me
I type outI miss you. My thumb hovers over send, but I delete the three words instead and send agood night. Before she can send a reply, I drop my phone into a drawer in the kitchen. I make myself a cup of coffee, hunt down my reading glasses, and head up to Michael’s office, script in hand.
This room, more than any other in the house, is where I feel him the most. A trio of Academy Awards sits on the shelf of a bookcase, alongside three Golden Globes and a framed photo of Michael and Cora on their wedding day. A handful of trinkets from travel and film blend carefully into the simple room.
I could always find him here, busy working. Usually sitting in his chair helps me tap into some of his focus, but I find my attention keeps wandering to Ashley, no matter how many times I try to pull it back to the pages in front of me.
Fake dating me isn’t working for her. She hasn’t said as much, but I could hear it in her tone when I asked if she had any new job opportunities. It’s too soon, I think, to know if all the volunteer activities and charity work we’ve done over the last week will move the needle, but my guess is no. The only solution for Ashley is long-term, sustained change in the public eye. Even then, it might not be enough. The world is shit like that.
I flip a few more pages, skimming the script. Nothing surprising, nothing too difficult inside. There are a few places I read more closely, where I try the words out to see how they feel on my tongue. But my productivity is punctuated by long moments where my thoughts go to her.
When there’s a knock at the door, I glance up, surprised to find it’s after midnight. Ashley walks in and I do a double take, pushing my chair away from the desk as all my blood rushes straight to my cock.
She’s wearing black lace lingerie, and had she been wearing this the night we’d met, my control would’ve snapped in half. The lace barely covers her nipples, the top looking ready to snap open. Lace wraps her neck. More straps hang from the garter belt accentuating her small waist and the full flare of her hips. Stockings cover her legs and she’s wearing shiny black stilettos. Calling the thong she’s wearing tiny would be generous. It’s more like a thin strap barely covering her pussy.
Ash smiles as she steps between me and the desk, lifting herself to sit on the edge. One shoe finds a home on my chair next to my left thigh. The other next to my right thigh.
I yank my reading glasses off my face and toss them onto the far end of the desk. Doesn’t matter how many times or how many ways I’ve had her pussy—seeing her like this, so shamelessly on display, turns me into an animal.
“I thought you could use a break,” she says with a throaty laugh as my hands travel up those stocking-clad legs.
What comes out of my mouth sounds like me choking on the word break, but I’m already pushing her back on the desk and burying my face in her pussy. Her fingers thread through my hair, holding me to her.
“Tell me you weren’t walking around LA in this,” I growl against her.
“Only your house,” she whispers, and fuck I like that. It’s scandalous, in this house. On this desk. With the Oscars and the Golden Globes and Michael and his standards everywhere in this room.
