Page 18

18

BILLIE

I slam the door shut, leaning against it as my heart races.

I’m so wet for him that it’s nearly dripping down my leg. The worst part about the entire thing is that he knows I’m putty in his hands. Asher so quickly brought me to the very edge until I was ready to spill over for him like some desperate whore. I was. Oh my God, I was. And had he not stopped, I’d have completely lost myself.

“Fuck,” I breathlessly say, wanting that man out of my mind. Somehow, I also want him buried deep inside me. I’m a fucking mess.

With my back pressed against the door, I slide down to the floor, my thighs trembling like a fucking earthquake.

My cunt’s still throbbing, slick and swollen—a damn traitor, begging for more of Asher.

He’s a beautiful, infuriating bastard who has me weak in the knees.

When his fingers were deep inside me, curling just right, it felt so fucking good. I wanted it. I needed it. And he knew it—that was why he stopped. That asshole left me hanging, my pussy clenching around nothing, my body screaming, begging for more of him .

I’m not in control.

I bite my lip hard as I shove my hand down my shorts, my fingers sliding through the sticky mess between my legs. I’m so wet, my juices soaked completely through the material. I picture him—his smirk, those honey-brown eyes that see right through me, that stupidly perfect jawline with scruff that makes me want to punch and kiss him at the same time.

My fingers desperately find my clit, swollen and aching, and I rub it in slow, deliberate circles, wishing it was his tongue instead.

“Shit,” I whimper as I slide two fingers inside myself, my walls clenching tight.

I’m so fucking needy, so desperate, and I hate him for it. I hate how he makes me feel, how he can reduce me to this—a horny, writhing, panting mess on the floor of my loft. I curl my fingers, searching for that sweet spot, and when I find it, I moan loudly, my head falling back against the door.

I picture his large fingers—big, rough, slamming deep inside me. I think back to how his body was pinned against me, his thick cock pressing against me as he whispered in my ear.

My other hand sneaks up to my breast, pinching my nipple hard; the sharp pain only makes the pleasure more intense. My hips buck against my fingers; my pussy clenches as I fuck myself faster, harder, desperate for that release he denied me.

“Asher.” I moan his name like a prayer, but he’s more of a curse. My voice trembles.

That coil in my belly winds tighter and tighter until I’m shaking, nearly begging to come.

I’m close—so damn close—and I move from my nipple down to my clit.

It hits me so violently.

My entire body tenses and convulses as I come, my pussy spasming around my fingers. Waves of pleasure crash over me, nearly drowning me as I imagine being with him. I bite my lip to stifle the scream that threatens to escape, my thighs clamping around my hand as I ride it out, gasping for air.

When it’s over, I’m sweaty, sticky, and still so turned on.

I pull my fingers out slowly, watching as they glisten with my juices, and realize I squirted. That’s never happened before. I can’t help but wonder what would have happened had he made me come. I might have begged him to fuck me to oblivion.

I felt how hard he was for me, how desperately he wanted me. Asher tasted me.

My thighs clench together as a fresh wave of heat floods through me. I’m still so turned on and horny.

Damn. He’s ruined me.

Absolutely fucking wrecked me.

And the worst part? I’d let him do it again in a heartbeat.

The chase has me in a choke hold, and it may kill me.

I pick myself up off the floor, my yellow shorts drenched, and move to the bathroom. I turn on the shower, slide out of my clothes, and step under the hot stream.

Right now, I need a hefty dose of reality and to wash the smell of him off my skin.

The steam floats and curls around me like a lover’s breath, hot and heavy. My body still buzzes from his touch.

I’ll never forgive him for this because now I’m physically craving him.

My skin prickles with a delicious ache that only he can satisfy.

Asher. His name alone makes my cunt clench like a fist, for him, for his touch.

I let the hot water run over me, my nipples still in hard little peaks, begging for more attention. My fingers trail down my stomach, dragging through the slickness between my thighs, as I picture his hand instead of my own. But that isn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

I reach for the showerhead, detaching it from the wall and adjusting the pressure until it’s a light and steady stream .

Perfect.

I lean back against the tiled wall, spreading my legs wider as I bring the nozzle closer to my already-sensitive clit. The second that warm, relentless stream hits me, I moan out, my head falling back as pleasure shoots through me like a bullet.

I close my eyes and let myself drift into the fantasy of him again .

It’s always him.

His towering frame looms over me, his chest broad and sculpted, every inch of him hard and dangerous . Asher has always lurked in the shadows of my mind. Right now, he’s at the forefront.

His golden eyes burn with intensity as he pins me against the shower wall, his cock thick and heavy between us, pressing against my stomach.

“You already came for me once. Come again, princess.”

I can almost hear his low, gravelly voice, and it sends shivers down my spine.

In this fantasy, he’s touching me; his fingers circle my clit with a precision that makes me cry out.

I feel his other hand gripping my hip, holding me in place as he drives me closer to the edge.

Stars explode behind my eyes as the water pulsates against me in a rhythm that matches the fantasy of Asher I’ve conjured.

My breath comes in ragged gasps as I fantasize about his hot mouth on my neck, his perfect teeth and plump lips grazing my skin while he whispers filthy promises in my ear.

“I want to feel you come on my cock,” he murmurs in this vision of mine, his voice dripping with need. “I want to fuck you so hard that you actually hate me.”

My thighs tremble as pleasure builds inside me—hot and unrelenting. The second orgasm hits me so fast and hard that I nearly lose my balance. Waves of pleasure crash over me again and again, and my cries echo throughout my bathroom. What I feel is raw and guttural. It’s almost an out-of-body experience.

When I finally come down from my high and regain some amount of consciousness, my legs feel like gelatin. Each ragged breath heaves through my chest as I steady myself.

I place the showerhead in its holster, feeling somewhat satisfied, though I have an itch only one person can scratch. But even as my body relaxes, thoughts of him linger—the memory of his hands, his mouth, his thick cock in his suit pants, pressed against me—leaving me craving more. And deep down, I know this isn’t over. Not even close.

Maybe Josh had a right to be jealous. Tonight, I confirmed Asher is attracted to me. That alone gives me an upper hand, but also changes things.

I dry myself, then go to my bedroom and slide between the sheets. I stare at the ceiling, wondering what he’s doing right now. I hope he’s stroking himself to me.

“Whoa,” Harper says as she bursts into my office, her voice echoing in the space.

I snuck in five minutes earlier, not ready to face the day after my night. My throbbing hangover blends with my double shot of espresso that hasn’t magically worked yet. Weeknight drinking isn’t something I usually do, but I needed to ensure Louis and I stayed relevant. Asher fucked that up.

Actually, he’s messed up a lot of things for me.

I didn’t sleep well and tossed and turned in bed over thoughts of him . Today, I’m mentally and physically exhausted.

“I have a question for you,” I say to my best friend.

“Sure.”

“Do you think my sculptures look like dicks?” I ask.

She bursts into laughter. “Kinda. But I still like them.”

I shake my head. “Bastard.”

Harper’s lips curl into a mischievous smile. “You’re glowing like Edward in Twilight . Spill it.”

I refuse to meet her gaze, my eyes locked on the meeting request blinking on my screen, asking me to accept.

“Not sure what you’re referring to,” I say, my tone as nonchalant as my attempt to ignore the growing chaos swirling inside me.

She approaches my neat desk and slides her phone toward me.

I glance down and see the photo of me and Asher standing in his doorway. His hand is on my hip, and I’m looking up at him like he’s everything .

“OH MY FUCKING GOD!” I scream, instantly pissed as I quickly scan over the caption.

This is her definition of hate.

My head pounds harder as I glance over the comments.

Hate? Look how you two look at each other.

Holy shit! I was today years old when I realized Billie Calloway doesn’t always wear black.

THIS is Billie Calloway? Ice Queen? No way. She’s a smokeshow.

You bring out the best in her.

Ho, is that the diamond princess?

Where can I get those shorts? And that shirt combo?

OMG. Billie Calloway is a fashion icon without even trying.

Is she smirking? Whoa.

Never seen her happier.

I shake my head, pushing it away, feeling like I might throw up. There are thousands of comments, and it was posted forty minutes ago.

“This is bad. This is the worst-case scenario.”

My thoughts start to spiral. With one post, Asher officially unraveled my and Louis’s fake relationship.

Harper sits in the chair in front of my desk. “I think this is the best thing that could’ve ever happened to us. The shorts you were wearing are a part of our spring line. We sold out of every size in yellow.”

“What?” I look at her, puzzled. “We couldn’t give those shorts away.”

“Seems like you’re the magic. And Asher. We’re not through our financial issues, but we should end this quarter much higher than we forecast, which is a start. Maybe we really can turn this around? You’re a genius. This is actually working,” she states. She waves her hand in front of my face as I zone out. “Are you still with me?”

“I’m sorry. I’m shocked, and I’m livid. I didn’t do this. I can’t take credit for this. Right now, I don’t have control of the situation, Harp. That scares me,” I admit. “This will hurt Louis and anger Josh. Why would Banks do this? He’s trying to destroy everything,” I growl, standing. “I hate him so much!”

She’s looking at me, confused. “Hate? After this photo?”

“ Especially after that photo.” I remember what followed after—how he had my body begging for him. I would’ve given him every part of me.

I glance over my shoulder at his office. The lights are dark, and his computer is off. The sign he hung last week is still securely in place. And of course, he’s conveniently late.

“I need to speak to him. Right now.”

“Let it be,” she says. “It will all work out. But I do have one question. Who took the picture? Brody?” she asks.

I huff. “Nosy Mrs. Chambers stepped off the elevator as I was telling Banks to go fuck himself after I learned he purchased the loft across from mine!”

Her mouth falls open, and her eyes are as wide as saucers. “Asher owns that loft? He’s your neighbor?”

“When I watched him leave my place and unlock that door, I realized he owned it. I lost my shit, and Mrs. Chambers snapped a photo of the aftermath to prove a point, apparently,” I explain, understanding the optics of how this looks. I almost hyperventilate. “ No one will believe that I’m with Louis after this! I wouldn’t be surprised if Banks had set this entire photo up with her.”

“He does seem to know you really well.”

My nostrils flare. “Fuck Asher Banks!”

Harper gives me a cheesy grin. “I would.”

“Shut up,” I tell her, placing my head on my desk. “I don’t know how to fix this. What are my options other than going into hiding until the Lustre contract expires?”

She chuckles. “All you have to do is make Asher uncomfortable.”

“Impossible,” I mutter. “He has no boundaries.”

“He acts like he has no boundaries, but everyone has a limit, a weakness, even him. Just live in the moment, B. Take the punches and start saying yes to situations instead of no. The spotlight is on you.”

“That’s the part I don’t like. Necessary evil.”

Harper stands with a grin. “You’ve got this, boss.”

“ We do. I won’t let you down, Harp.”

“Oh, I know,” she says, walking toward the door. “I want sushi soon.”

“Me too,” I tell her.

“You are going to the gala this weekend, right?”

I nod. “Shit, yes. I need to let Weston know.”

“You were supposed to RSVP by last week,” she reminds me.

“It’s Weston. He’ll make an exception.”

The next few hours are hectic. The two pictures that Asher posted of us have gone so mega viral that Perez Hilton is now covering my alleged relationships. The palace wants answers, but Louis has denied everything, calling this a media setup by his firm to twist the narrative

At some point, Louis won’t be able to continue doing that because right now, no one believes him. We might have another week of this charade, at best.

My assistant has worked overtime to handle the inquiries regarding my relationship status. I’m spiraling, realizing how much of a toll this attention is taking. Every twenty minutes, I spin in my chair, checking if Banks has arrived. He hasn’t.

A looming feeling hangs over me, and I’m trying to ignore it. If I had his number, I’d text him, but I can’t ask anyone for it. Not even him. It would confirm too much, and he’d never allow me to live it down. It’s not a conversation I’m dying to have with anyone either, not even myself.

I go to Harper’s office and peek my head inside. “I think I’m going out for lunch.”

She’s on the phone, and she waves me inside. I sit in front of her desk.

“No comment,” she says.

A moment later, the call ends.

“Your fake relationship with Louis is one headline away from exploding after Asher posted that photo,” she confirms. “My phone has?—”

It rings.

She unplugs it and returns her attention to me. “Silence,” she sighs. “Finally. How are you holding up?”

I shake my head. “I’m at my limit.”

Harper can read me so easily, but that happens when you’ve had the same best friend since you were five years old. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Go home, have a nice hot bubble bath, draw some on your iPad,” she suggests.

“Maybe I will,” I tell her.

“It’s an order. Being here, surrounded by this, isn’t productive. You’re on the brink of something monumental, bestie. I can feel it,” she says.

Harper is very intuitive. She has been known to make love prophecies and predict things before they happen.

“I really hope you’re right.”

“I am. I always am,” she confirms. “Now, go relax. I’ll see you tomorrow. ”

I stand. “Thank you for being the best business partner and friend I could ever have.”

“Right back at you,” she says, waving me away. She plugs her phone back in, and it immediately rings.

I leave her office, feeling like a tangled ball of yarn, knowing things are a mess. As soon as I leave the building, paps are on me. I hail a cab and climb in. Before we pull away, the door opens and closes.

When I glance over, I see Nick.

He gives me a boyish grin, looking at me with the same expression Asher wears sometimes. “What a surprise.”

“You can say that again,” I mutter.

“Where are you goin’?” the driver asks.

I give my address.

“I can be dropped there too,” Nick says, then glances at me.

I stay silent, not knowing what to say to him. He’s always been very nice to me, but he’s closer to my brothers’ age than mine. Nick used to snowboard and play hockey before he was injured, then began working with Eden at the advertising company. He’s flirty, attractive, and a walking red flag.

“Do you realize there will be pictures of you and me posted together now?” I look into his eyes.

“Oh, that’s fine. I’m not concerned,” he admits, and the car grows quiet again.

“Of course you’re not concerned. My life is a fucking wreck because of your asshole brother.”

“I’m aware. And I apologize.”

I stare out the window, wishing there weren’t so much traffic on the road, but it’s midday in Lower Manhattan. It’s to be expected.

“Where is Asher?” I ask.

“He didn’t tell you? You were clearly together last night.” His brows crease.

“ Nothing is going on between us.”

“I’m not here to debate it. I don’t give a fuck if you two are or aren’t together. I’m concerned that he’s going to make a stupid mistake and mess up our company. A lot of people’s livelihoods depend on our success, and I can’t let them down. Because of that, Asher has been put on leave for seven days. He won’t be back at the office until next week.”

My eyes widen. “You put him on probation?”

“I did, and it can be extended up to ninety days. You are a conflict of interest,” he says nonchalantly. “The board doesn’t appreciate anything Asher is doing, and they do not like the public attention being drawn to the company. Also, Lustre is very upset about the two of you. Now I’m going to have to deal with that dumb fuck until things settle down. The last thing I need is a major lawsuit on my hands.”

“I didn’t ask for this.” I shake my head.

“It’s not you. It’s my stubborn brother. He listens to no one. Ever.”

The car takes a sharp curve down a parallel street that typically has less traffic but more lights. Our driver runs a few, but I’m not upset about it. I want out of this car right now.

“You know he’s still going to give Josh his all,” I say.

“Yeah. But he’d also give his all to fucking with you, and that can’t happen. He needs to take some time to clear his mind, and by the looks of it, you need to as well.”

“Glad I asked for your opinion,” I say. “Is that a Banks trait?”

“The response I expected.” He chuckles. It’s soft and kinda sexy.

I see the allure, even though sporty guys aren’t my type. They’re too douchey, even for me.

The car slows outside of my building, and Nick pays for the ride.

I reach for the handle, and Nick speaks in a lowered voice. “He’s at the Hamptons house. It’s where he goes when he needs to clear his head. Whatever is going on can’t be public as long as Asher is working with Josh. Do you understand?” he says, his eyes pinning me in place .

“Send that message to your brother. I know how to keep my personal life private.” I give him a small smile and step out.

I enter my building, rattled, and I want to speak to Asher right now.

As I take the elevator to my loft, I know exactly what I have to do.

Looks like I’m taking a drive to my family’s Hamptons home. It’s three doors down from his.

Of course it is.