Page 30

CHAPTER 30

ASHTON

"I'm sorry, what? "

"I have basically nothing to back this up," I say, holding my hands up in surrender. "I wasn't even going to say anything, but—” I look at the basketball on the ground in front of us. "I don't know, I needed to get it out."

"What would make you think that?"

"She kept saying she was going to fix things. So I asked her what things, or what she was going to do, but she kept patting my hand or shaking the invisible drink she was holding."

"Invisible drink?"

"I think she thought she was having a cocktail, kept asking me to freshen it up. The whole thing was weird. It was like she was stuck in a memory, playing it out. When I asked more questions, she got really agitated. That's when the doctors came in."

She'd been so worked up, they almost had to sedate her to calm down. Thankfully, she eventually fell asleep, and we called my parents to let them know she'd made some progress. When they arrived, I tried to describe how strange she was acting without tipping my father off that I knew anything. I'm not ready to confront him just yet. When she woke up again, she thought my dad was her ex-husband. Every time she sees him, she's either throwing stuff at him and screaming at him for leaving her, or she's trying to be seductive and flirt with him to come back to her. It's fucking disturbing.

"The worst part," I tell him after relaying some of her behavior, "is that she told him he's going to be sorry. That Ken was going to make everything better."

"Ken? As in… Kenneth Richards?"

My shoulders come up to my ears. "That's the only Ken I know. Wasn’t he the one that signed off on that cease and desist letter, and the payoff agreement? What if…" I drop my face into my hands, rubbing my exhausted eyes. Am I really going to say this out loud? "What if Kenneth Richards and my grandmother worked together to falsify my grandfather's will? He's the only one that would have that kind of access, and no one would have questioned him."

"That makes sense. But that sounded like a threat…"

"I think so too. And get this, when she said that, my dad's face turned white as a sheet. Which I think means he knows something."

Marcus curses under his breath, but he doesn't say anything else for a long time, just looks down at the ground like he's putting together the pieces of a puzzle. Finally he speaks again.

"Let's say the worst of it is that Kenneth and Matilda falsified the will, cut my dad out, and took over everything. There's proof enough to assume that it might have happened. Why would they continue to harass my father? You'd think that once they paid him off and made him sign away his rights to any of it, that they'd let him be. What would be the reasoning to keep their names fresh in his mind? It doesn't make sense."

"It makes even less sense if they were responsible for the deaths. Unless…" I cringe, my stomach cramping around nothing because I haven't had an appetite at all today.

"Unless…"

"You said before that it didn't make much sense for anyone to make these small, ineffective complaints. Nothing came of them, and no one else complained. What if that was how they let your dad know they were watching him?"

"You think it was their way of threatening him? Threatening him for what, though?"

"It'd be an effective reminder that they're paying attention to the tiniest, dirty details of his business. Maybe to ensure he kept up his end of the bargain?"

"So what changed? What made AJames Enterprises decide to steamroll him?"

"I don't know, but I have an idea how to find out."

Marcus gives me a serious, doubtful look. His mouth is turned down, and his eyebrows are pinched. "Why do I feel like I'm not going to like this idea?"

"Because it's stupid and reckless and might put both our futures in jeopardy."

He sighs. "What's your plan?"

"How exactly is checking into this fancy hotel part of the plan?"

"Because I need a shower, a fuck, and a nap. In that order. The party isn't until later tonight."

"And why do I need to go to this fancy Christmas party with you?"

I shrug and give him my sassiest smirk. "Because I want to see you in a tux. I want my parents to see you in a tux, and when we break into his office later tonight, I might want you to fuck me over his desk."

"You want him to know we were in there?"

"I want him to know he doesn't have all the power. He'll leave you alone—he'll leave both of us alone—or I'll use whatever we find against him."

" If we find anything, do you think you could really follow through on that? Because he's your father, not because you're not a badass or whatever." Marcus smiles, but I can tell he's serious. It's definitely a daunting thing to consider standing up to my dad like this, and the idea of actually following through on what is effectively blackmailing him is terrifying.

"Admittedly, I'm betting on him not wanting to deal with any of it. He's more of a pacifist than he seems. Anything aggressive he's ever done in his life was because Mimi nagged him or pulled the strings herself." And it's not like she can make decisions anymore.

I already know my mom is arranging to have her put in a home. The best luxury retirement community money can buy, of course, but a home nonetheless. She's probably relieved not to have to live with her anymore. Despite living in a mansion, and having an entire wing to herself, Mimi has always taken up a lot of room. She and my mother have struggled over control of the house, my father's attention, my attention. Honestly, I can't blame my mom for being catatonic most of the time. She's probably exhausted from being steamrolled and in constant competition with Mimi.

I scoff. "I imagine things are going to be very, very different in the James household, and maybe even with AJames Enterprises."

"And you really don't want to take over someday?"

"Not even a little bit."

After handing the valet a hundred-dollar bill and daring him with a hard glare to say anything about Marcus' vehicle, I lead him into the lobby.

"What about our bags?" he whispers at me.

"They'll get them," I assure him. "Just relax."

"I can't. Everyone is staring."

He's not wrong. Walking through the front doors of Crest Manor is a surefire way to get noticed, and likely even photographed. Stepping out of Marcus' vehicle and walking in with him is sure to make the news, but it's part of my backup plan to keep Marcus safe. I know he's uncomfortable with the attention, but he assured me that it's only because he doesn't like attention in general, unless it's about basketball. Unfortunately, this will likely detract from the attention we've been getting on the court and make it about our relationship. It might even prevent us from our chances of being scouted into the NBA. But this has moved beyond basketball, and I’ll give up all my prospects to keep him safe. If it is publicly known that Marcus was here with me tonight, that he's with me, hopefully my dad won't make any attempts to publicly slander him. Or worse, considering I'm no longer sure of what he's capable of.

"Is this okay?" I ask, lightly nudging his hand with mine. He stares at it for a moment, swallows, and then slips his hand into mine.

Our bags make it to the room before we do. Marcus steps onto the balcony to call his mom. He needs to break it to her that we're seeing each other before she sees it on the news. By the look on his face, and the amount of time he's out there talking to her, I'm not sure it's going well.

They're always going to hate me. They might never accept me, but if I can show them that I don't agree with what my family has done, if I can show them that I stand with them… maybe they'll hate me less?

I decide to give Marcus some space and privacy and get started on a shower. I've spent the last eighteen hours in a hospital and I'm ready to wash some of this stress away.

The hotel has a huge shower with multiple showerheads, and it takes only a few minutes for some of the tension in my shoulders to melt into the pulsing massage of hot water beating down on me.

If not for the quick burst of cool air that hits me, I might not have noticed when Marcus steps inside. I don't even have to move aside for him to get under the spray, and we stand in the middle of the shower, facing each other while the water pours over us. I'm the first one to move, tracing my finger over the line tattooed on his chest.

"Is this?—”

"His last heartbeat," Marcus confirms. "He flatlined shorty after I got there."

"That had to be hard."

"We survived."

"You should have the chance to do more than survive, Marcus. You deserve more."

Marcus snorts, trying to cut some of the tension. "And what, you think you're going to be my sugar daddy? Because I don't want one."

"No," I say seriously. "But I am going to help make sure no one stands in your way anymore. To lift you back up to where you belong, where you would have been if my family hadn't made everything so much harder. And if that means getting myself out of your way, then I'll do that too. Whatever it takes, Marc."

Marcus lifts up on his toes and pushes into me, kissing me hungrily. His tongue licks into my mouth, tangling around mine. I don't fight for dominance. I give him everything he asks for, everything he demands, and more. His hands knead down my back to my ass, squeezing and massaging. His fingers trail lightly through my crack, a spark of excitement buzzing through me when they brush over my hole.

"I want you," I rasp against his lips. "Please, Marcus. Fuck me again. And again. And again." I kiss him back more aggressively with each repeat of the word, working us both up. We're rutting against each other's bodies, our height difference making it too difficult to line up to where we want to be, and there's no bench in here like the locker room showers. Turning off the water, I move towards the door, but Marcus pulls me back. He pushes me face first into the tile wall, holding me there with one palm against my back while he teases my ass some more.

"Marcus,” I whine, but he ignores me.

Hot kisses slowly trail down my spine and over my ass. I look over my shoulder and find Marcus on his knees for me, which takes my breath away. He’s never knelt for me like this. The few times my dick has been in his mouth, he's been crouched over me with his fingers in my ass. It’s heady seeing him on his knees for me, but I don't think he can get my dick in his mouth from that angle?—

Oh.

Oh.

Holy fuck.

Is he really?

Yep. Marcus Vell just licked my ass. And I mean, really licked it. He gripped my ass cheeks with two hands, spread them out, and ran the flat of his tongue from my taint to the top of my crack. And I, oh my God, I?—

"Holy fuck."

Marcus' tongue moves over me again, this time with more pressure. He laps at me like a dog drinking water, making wet, sloppy sounds and moaning like my ass is the best thing he's ever tasted. A quick look at my painfully aching dick, and yeah, I'm harder than I've ever been in my life. My cock is like steel, the head purple and angry, dripping as it bobs with the involuntary movements my hips have started smacking against the tile.

The movements of his tongue become more precise, more concentrated around my hole. He swirls it and pushes in a little before starting over, until he's probing my asshole with his tongue, pushing it deep inside me. The sounds I'm making should be embarrassing. If I had to listen to a recording, I'd probably be mortified. But I can't stop. I’m crying and moaning and begging for more, for less, for him to just fuck me already. I don't even care that we don't have any lube, he can use the goddamn hotel shampoo for all I care, just get inside me right fucking now because?—

"I need to come," I cry.

He moans into my ass, and then I feel more pressure, two fingers pushing inside me and spreading my ass open so he can fit his tongue in there deeper. A finger presses against my prostate, and a jolt of electricity charges through me. Pushing back on his face, I reach for my cock and pump myself one, two, three times before I shoot. Cum splatters against the wall, coats my hand, and drips down onto the floor of the shower. I lean against the wall, still stroking my cock, face and chest plastered to the tile while I take deep, shuddery breaths.

Marcus wipes his face on my ass cheek, which I find both funny and weirdly erotic, and stands, kissing his way up to my shoulder blade. I turn, pressing my back to the wall and bending down to kiss him. He holds out a hand to stop me.

"Are you sure you want to kiss me right now?"

"Why wouldn't I. that was the most insane, intense thing I've ever felt in my life. I need to kiss you right now."

"My mouth was just on your ass."

"Yeah. If you can put your mouth on my ass, I think I can put my mouth on your mouth after it's been there. If you're not afraid of my ass, I figured I shouldn't be, either?"

Marcus chuckles and leans forward to kiss me. I deepen the kiss, not getting any hints of anything unpleasant. Then again, I'm sure if there was anything unpleasant, he wouldn't have stayed down there as long. Right?

Now that I've experienced it, I'm curious as hell. I flip us so Marcus is the one against the wall and start kissing down his body. "My turn?"

"You don't have to. Not everyone likes?—”

"Do you like it?"

"Well, yeah, but?—”

"Marcus, I don't think you properly appreciate how fucking obsessed I am with you. Like, full on creeper weirdo obsessed. I left a top four team to move closer to home where my dad could harass me just so I could fucking talk to you. If you don't let me put my tongue in your ass right now, I'll annoy you until you let me do it. If you haven't noticed, I can be pretty fucking persistent."

"Yeah, I've noticed." He rolls his eyes but laughs, turning slowly and pushing his round, meaty bubble butt out so it's inches from my face.

"Goddamn, I'm obsessed with your ass," I say, cupping his cheeks, moving them around. I tap the sides so they jiggle a little, and bite into one juicy cheek when Marcus tries to protest. "Shh. I'm busy here." I do things that I'd never once considered doing to someone's butt. I rub my stubble against both cheeks, nuzzle my face between them, bury my nose into his crack. I'm weirdly very into the whole thing, and when I finally put us both out of our misery and flick my tongue over his puckered, winking hole, I let out a guttural moan that would make you think I was the one receiving Marcus' magic tongue again. "Fucking hell, that's good," I say, muffled against his ass.

" Mmm . So good. More ," he instructs, pushing his ass out further.

His body shakes rhythmically, and I look up to see his arm flexing. He's jerking his cock while I'm eating his ass. I'm eating Marcus Vell's ass.

Determination trickles through me like I've been doused in cold water. Inexperienced or not, this is about to be the best fucking rim job he's ever gotten.

Ravenous to make him feel as good as he made me, I dive in like a starving man. I am starving. Starving for him. For his pleasure. For his need. For his love and acceptance. As if I could leech everything I want from him through his asshole, I work him over with the thoroughness of a man on a mission. My tongue flicks over his hole, massages around it, and thrusts inside him. I fuck him with my tongue until he cries out my name and paints the shower wall with another coat of thick, white cum. As he squeezes the last of his orgasm out, I pull back and watch his hole clench and release with each wave, and I nearly come undone again at the thought of what those muscles would feel like clenching around my cock.