Page 129 of Vile Bastards
“Daisuki da yo, Scarlett-chan.” Ash murmurs that bit and gets me all shivery. I have no idea what it means, but I like the sound of it, the intent in his voice. Soft, desperate, obsessed.
“Stop that.” I adjust the phone from one ear to the other. “Where are you right now?”
“In a bathroom at a private club,” he responds easily. “Why?”
“Does it have a lock?” I murmur, knowing that I’m in enough trouble as it is. Why on earth would I invite more into my life?
“Scarlett Force,” he begins, his pretty English accent layered over desperately Americanized words. He’s trying and failing to hide himself from me. I love that I’ve got the power to do that, to unravel him even at such a steep price. Misspeaking could get him killed, but that’s the fun of it, the daring, the adventure. “What are you suggesting?”
“Wrap your hand around your dick and start pumping.” I move away from the door toward the bathroom, slipping inside and closing it behind me. “We have to make this quick.”
I sit down on the floor in front of the bathtub and slip my hand beneath the waistband of my sweats. I’m already wet from my ordeal with Alexei, so it’s an easy slide as I push two fingers in, exhaling heavily against the phone.
“Did you hear that, Kelly?” I whisper, stroking myself to the sound of his pleased moan from the other end of the line.
“I heard you, Scarlett-chan.” He offers up an unpolished groan, and I know without a doubt that he’s touching himself. “I’m stroking my cock with a tight fist, dreaming of your pussy. I know it might get both of us killed, but maybe I should come over there anyway, just so that I can fuck you.”
I lean back, letting my head rest against the edge of the bathtub. My fingers rub and tease, but all I can think about is Ash, and the way he felt at the theater with Reefer Madness playing in the background. We haven’t had sex in like, fuckin’ eons.
I miss the feel of him, the heat of him, the compulsion in his dark gaze.
“Maybe I should make you a plate and come find you?” I could. That’d be safer, I guess, than letting him come over here with my family. I’m a good driver (when I’m not driving off cliffs); I always know when I’m being tailed.
Ash’s breathing picks up, and he starts speaking to me in Japanese. I have no idea what he’s saying, but it sounds dirty as hell. I rub at my clit with the heel of my hand, two fingers pushed deep inside, imagining what Ash must think when he slides into me, how good I must feel.
“I could meet you outside,” he finally murmurs in English. “I could bend you over the Pantera, take you right there where anyone could see.” He’s breathing harder now, and I tuck my phone between my ear and shoulder so that I have access to both hands. I knead my breast with one, keeping the other between my thighs.
“Would you have the balls to take the risk?” I wonder, and he growls at me.
“Get your ass over here and find out,” he snaps, and I shove up to my feet, pausing to wash my hands, already thinking up a million excuses. Nah. I’ll just tell everyone I’m taking a plate to a friend. The boys will want to know who it is, but I’ll tell them later.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Ash breathes frantically, and I can hear the streak of nervousness in his voice. “You can’t come here, Scarlett.”
“Where are you?” I demand, but he offers up a heavy sigh, part sexual frustration, part defeat. He’s not going to tell me, that’s for damn sure. Because even if he doesn’t have the balls, I’ve got the ovaries.
I will go over there.
“What happened to unmei and doki-doki and all that?” I snap back, but he doesn’t take the bait. I stand there, hands braced on either side of the sink, phone still tucked between my ear and shoulder. I look up and into my own eyes, dark and impossible to discern the pupil from the iris. Endless. Troubled. Fierce.
I smile, but it’s a wry one.
“After we leave this function, my father will toss me aside like I mean nothing. Because I do mean nothing to him. As Ash or Aspen, it doesn’t matter. It’s just me, and I hate it here. Scarlett …”
“What is it, Kelly?” I demand, knowing I shouldn’t fall for this shit. He sounds pitiable and sad and all that, but he’s a fuckboy and this is what fuckboys do. They manipulate. They lie. They trick. They bite. They piss on shit and mark it with their fuckboy fucked-up-ness.
“Please tell me you’ll marry me, or I can’t get through this. Tell me that you will, even if it’s all a lie.”
