One True Thing (23 page)

I thought in that moment of all the people I’d

seen on set, in photographs. How fake their

passion seemed, how contrived their own need.

But Dusty’s was real, consuming and delicious and

right there for me to experience. I licked him again,

from root to his sensitive, pulsing tip, then sucked

him in whole, all the way to the back of my throat.

Dusty howled and came, filling my mouth with

tangy heat. I kept licking and sucking until his

breath had calmed and he reached down for me. I

crawled up the bed and flopped down, nuzzling

into his neck.

Dusty slung a thigh over mine. “I thought I

was going to pass out.”

“Yeah?” I couldn’t keep the grin from my

voice. I was still turned on as hell, but just the

thought of what I’d done to him was enough to

satisfy me.

“Pretty much. It was amazing.”

I rubbed his arm with my palm. “For me too.”

“Know what would be more amazing?” He

lifted his head and looked down at me.

“What?”

“If you finished what you started.” He

grinned, a wicked nymph, blond hair spiky, lips

puffed, neck and collarbones covered with love

bites and marks.

“You want more?”

He nodded slowly and reached over to fish

lube and a condom from his bedside table. “I want

you inside of me. Now.”

Dusty turned the tables on me when he

slowly, torturously rolled that condom on. It took a

hundred years. I swear. And then the lube?
Oh,

God.
He drizzled it on like chocolate sauce and

took his sweet time slicking it all over me.

“Feel good?” he asked. His voice was

hoarse, but he had nothing on me. I was about to

fire off like a goddamn rocket just from a condom

and some lube.

“Dusty….” It was the only thing I could

squeeze from my lips without shouting.

He swiped some lube on his entrance in a

small, impatient gesture, then crawled over my

thighs until he was straddling me, palms on my

chest. “You’re gonna feel so damn good,” he

murmured before he lined me up and sank down,

enveloping me in his slick, tight, oh-so-good heat.

He moved slowly, fucking himself on me,

clearly reveling in the sensation of being filled. I

reached for his rapidly growing erection, wanting

to touch the beautiful creature on top of me, to add

his pleasure to my own.

“
Ash
.” He leaned over and threaded his

fingers through mine on my pillow. Then he

squeezed and picked up the pace. We kissed, and

fucked, and twined our bodies together as hard and

tight as we could. I knew in that moment my fall

was complete. I didn’t want to have Dusty out of

my sight ever again. I was his; he was mine. I

never wanted it to end. “I’m gonna come again,” he

choked out, voice surprised.

I sped up, pounding into him, grunting, letting

go of his hands to grab his hips. Dusty’s moans

grew louder, and he ground his pelvis against me.

Then at the last moment, he arched his back, cried

out, and spilled onto my stomach, tightening down

and making me lose the thin hold I’d had on the last

of my control. My orgasm came in a rush, washing

through me and into Dusty like a wave. I bit my lip

and gripped his hips so hard he’d probably have

bruises. Dusty wrapped his arms around me and

squeezed, the only thing that kept me from

exploding into bits.

Dusty detangled us gently and slid to my side

once again. I knew I needed to get up, deal with the

condom and wipe myself off, but I just lay there

staring at the darkness of Dusty’s ceiling, trying

desperately to process what had just happened.

“Ash?” Dusty said quietly, what had to be a

few minutes later.

“Sorry, I was just kind of spinning. I didn’t

mean to space out on you.” I turned and tossed the

condom in his trash, then gathered him close for a

minute, swearing I’d get up any second to wash off

and get something to clean him up as well.

“That was kind of crazy, wasn’t it?” he asked

with a slow smile.

I smiled in return, huffing out a short, quiet

laugh. “Just a little.”

Chapter Ten

Dusty

“I DON’T think this is such a good idea.”

“It’s gonna be fine,” Michelle said as she

tightened the strap on my helmet.

I made a dubious sound. “I haven’t tried to

skate since I was like twelve. I don’t think I

remember how, exactly.”

“It’ll come back to you. Just like riding a

bike.” Michelle stepped—well, rolled—back a

few feet to give me a once-over. After a moment,

she nodded and declared me “Ready to go.”

I didn’t know about that. I already felt a bit

shaky on the rollerblades, and no more confident

for the protective gear we’d rented to go along

with them. All I wanted to do was park my butt on

the bench in front of the rental place and stay there,

safe and steady, enjoying the clear blue sky and

salty ocean air, while Michelle went out and did

her thing.

We were supposed to be skating The Strand,

or at least the Hermosa and Manhattan Beach

portion of it. The area itself was gorgeous, clean

and well-maintained and obviously wealthy,

judging by the huge houses I could see in the hills

lining the path. I would have loved to walk it,

actually, but I had a feeling the skating thing could

only end one way—with me making an ass of

myself.

How did she talk me into this?

Oh, yeah. I’d called her because Asher was

over in Palm Springs for some photo shoot and

didn’t think he’d be back in town before midnight.

I hadn’t wanted to waste my day off puttering

around the house missing my boyfriend, so I’d

called Michelle. And there I was a few hours later,

regretting that very decision, probably only

seconds away from falling, and hoping if I did fall,

I wouldn’t take anyone else down with me.

“Ready?” Michelle said. Unlike me, she

looked completely at ease in her rollerblading

gear. Of course, it was her own, not rented, and

she was probably a lot more used to wearing it. I

couldn’t remember if I’d ever actually worn knee

or elbow pads before.

“Okay?” It came out more like a question than

an answer.

Michelle laughed and started down the path in

front of me. “Come on, Dust!”

I took a deep breath, said a quick prayer, and

followed.

OW.

I shook my head a little, feeling dazed. The

sun blazed bright above me, burning into my

retinas, and I blinked, lifting a hand to shield my

eyes.
Oh, wow. That hurts.
I was dizzy too, and

my chest was tight.
What the hell happened?

As I lay there, blinking dumbly and trying to

remember, a shadow fell across my body.

“Dusty? You okay?” That was Michelle’s

voice. “Hey, can you get up?”

“Not… sure.”

Suddenly there was a hand on my shoulder.

“That was a pretty spectacular fall, buddy. Did you

hurt your neck?”

Oh. I remember now.
The rollerblading had

been going well, for all of maybe fifteen minutes.

Then there was a tree branch in my path as I

rounded a curve—or, okay, maybe it was more

like a large twig, but still—and I’d panicked, tried

to veer right, and lost my balance. After that, I

vaguely recalled hitting the ground, skidding for a

bit, and then there might have been a hill or a

mound or something because I remembered rolling

too, and then a moment of brownish-blackness

when I’d struck something—a palm tree, I

discovered—and had the wind knocked out of my

chest.

“No m-more rollerblading,” I told the

Michelle-shadow hovering above me.

“Okay,” she said. I could hear the laughter

she was fighting back. “Seriously, though, how is

your neck?”

“Fine… I think.” I made an attempt to sit up

and finally managed it with Michelle’s help. My

head was spinning, but I still noticed the crowd of

spectators lingering in a semicircle around us.

“Um, thanks, guys. Totally fine. Nothing to see

here.”

God, how embarrassing….

Michelle shot a glance over her shoulder, and

I have no idea what the people around us saw in

her face, but they dispersed before I could take

another breath.

She looked back at me and smirked a little.

“Can you get up? I think we’re going to need a first

aid kit for that scrape on your leg. The one on your

arm isn’t too bad, though.”

It was only then that I noticed the blood and

the dull, burning throb on my left shin and forearm.

“Ugh.” I’d be lucky if the one on my leg didn’t

scar. The thought made me cringe. But, then again,

better a scar than a broken bone or something.

“You gonna puke?” Michelle sounded

alarmed for the first time. The expression on her

face might have made me laugh at any other time.

But not right then. I was too sore for laughing.

There were going to be bruises galore by morning,

I imagined. I’d always bruised fairly easily. I

guessed it didn’t matter much. One debatable skill

I’d learned, thanks to Gary, was how to use

makeup to cover them up. The cuts, on the other

hand….

“No,” I said. “No puking. I just want to take

these off.”

Michelle nodded and helped me remove the

rollerblades. It meant walking back to the rental

shop where I’d left my shoes in nothing more than

my socks, but at least they were the thick athletic

kind (borrowed from Erik, since I didn’t own a

single pair). They would have to do. No way in

hell was I putting those rollerblades back on.

“Next time,” I told Michelle as we started

down the path again, her skating, me hobbling,

“we’re going swimming.”

THE look on Asher’s face when I got to his

apartment the next day was priceless. I hadn’t

bothered with trying to cover up the bruises. There

were too many, and it wasn’t like I was trying to

hide them, anyway. I
had
called off work, though

—or, well, I’d rescheduled the customers that I

could and asked Lane to cover the rest. Partly

because I was still sore and wanted to avoid the

questions I knew would be coming, but mainly

because I wanted some TLC from Asher, and I’d

known he would be free all day.

“Oh, my God,” Asher said, reaching out to

touch my jaw gently. There was an impressive

bruise on the left side. Both Rue and Erik had been

horrified when they’d seen me that morning.

Neither one of them had seen the bruise on my

ribcage, though. That one had shocked even me.

“You didn’t tell me it was this bad. Do you think

you should go to the doctor?”

“Nah. It looks worse than it is. I don’t feel

like anything is broken.”

Asher’s eyes moved over me, inspecting

carefully, widening when they got to my scraped

shin. I’d wrapped up the actual wound, but the

bruises surrounding it were clearly visible. “Jesus.

Can I hug you? Are you too sore?”

I laughed. “Never too sore for a hug from you.

Like I said, it looks worse than it really is. I’m just