Page 130 of Vile Bastards
“If you were to find out that I’d done something terrible, would you at least trust me enough to let me explain?”
“Ash Kelly, I feel like you’re up to no good.”
“Just lie to me and make my shitty day a little better,” he demands, and I resist the urge to be contrary. You know what? Screw it. It’s a holiday. Sort of. I really don’t care for the day much either way, but if it makes Gram happy, I’ll participate.
Don’t think about Lemon, I warn myself. Don’t do it.
“If I say yes, will you play along?” I ask, and I swear, I can feel that asshole’s smile through the phone.
“I will.”
“Fine then. Sure. Why not? If we live through this, I’ll do it.” I adjust the phone and sit back down, putting my hand in my pants again. My fingers stroke and tease along my sensitive lips, listening to the sound of Ash’s breathing as it picks up again. “Video chat me.”
The command is followed almost instantly, so I’ve got to give him props for that. He’s sitting like a dirty prince, all sprawled out over the pristine white surface of a toilet that’s surrounded by gaudy gold wallpaper. There’s even a narrow counter behind the toilet, topped with stone and bedazzled with a huge vase of fresh flowers.
Christ.
But Ash Kelly, he looks very pretty like that, his pants undone, hard cock shamelessly clutched in a fist.
“Scarlett,” he whispers, licking his lower lip. He holds the phone up above him, peering into it with a sly, cocksure expression. “Look at you, all dressed-up.”
I ignore the slight, catching sight of myself in the corner of the screen. Sweatpants rumpled and pushed low, baggy hoodie up top. My long hair coils over my shoulder and my lips are red from nibbling on them.
I look hot as fuck.
This guy can go screw himself if he doesn’t like it.
Or … wait, I guess he’s already screwing himself, huh?
“You look like you’re posing for a toilet spray ad or something,” I add, but as true as that statement is, it doesn’t make Ash Kelly anything less than majestic. He’s absolutely gorgeous which is yet another reason I should analyze my reactions to him. He’s too pretty, so pretty that I’m liable to get myself into trouble with him. Any emotions I feel toward the guy, I should just cut in half.
I close my eyes and exhale.
“Toilet spray?” he queries back, and then he chuckles, and even that’s sexy. “I’m here with my dick in my hand and you’re talking about toilet sprays?”
“Just keep talking,” I murmur, rubbing my swollen pussy with twitchy fingers. Sexting is fun and all, but it’s nothing compared to the real thing. The feel of a hot hand on my hip, strong fingers kneading my breasts, lips at my pulse point … I groan and nearly drop the phone as I find just the right spot to push my desperate body toward the edge. Won’t take much. I’m ready to explode anyway.
“Keep talking?” he murmurs, and I hear his breath release in a hiss. “Open your eyes and look at me, Scarlett.”
I refuse. I keep my lids clamped shut, biting my lower lip and basking in the sound of his voice, his obvious frustration, his desperate need.
“Open your eyes,” he barks at me, but I still refuse to heed the command. After all, I’m Scarlett Force. Am I going to let some absentee fuckboy tell me what to do?
Never.
I relax even further, dipping my fingers back into that molten heat between my thighs.
“I’m so fucking wet,” I murmur, and Ash makes another frustrated sound on the other end of the line. “If you were here, I bet your cock would slip right in.” I groan and arch my back as Ash curses, and I hear a rustling sound, like maybe he’s standing up or something.
I open my eyes to see that he’s adjusted his phone. All I can see now is his angry face, those crow-black eyes peering back at me, as wild and unhinged as they were the night we fucked in the rain.
“Avoid me for too long, and you’ll be sorry,” I warn him, even as I know that I’m being unfair. He’s trying to, I don’t know, be all chivalrous and protect me or something? Doesn’t matter. I hate to be ignored. I study his full lips, lush and kissable and sexy as hell. He sucks his bottom lip in for a moment, leaving it shiny and utterly delectable. “Where would you be touching me right now, Ash Kelly?” I wonder aloud, and he slumps back in his seat, adjusting my view so that I can see how hard he’s gripping his dick.
White-knuckled, that’s how hard. Punishing.
“I’d have you pinned down and screaming,” he grinds out, shaking all over. “I’d make you forget all about Alexei Grove. He’d be nothing but a distant memory, if that.”
