Ashley’s hands stall on me, and she waits for my answer. I can feel her gaze boring into me, even though I can’t see her, and I know she’s not going to be happy until I say something. The only problem is, is that there’s a lump in my throat already at just the thought of her.
I swallow hard, trying to clear it, and feel Ashley put her hand on my chest right below the lump.
“She really fucked you up huh?” She asks, her fingertips gently massaging the hollow of my neck. “I’ve never seen you choke up over anything.”
“I’ve never wanted what I thought I could have with her before.”
“Tell me. Beginning to end. I’ll help you piece through it.”
“You sure? Because it’s shit, and I’m shit, and it’s all shit.”
“Lay it on me.”
I spend the next hour talking non-stop, telling her everything from seeing Millie in the alley, to finding out she was with Tyler at Kelly’s, to kidnapping her from his house, and the trip. I go into details I didn’t even realize I noticed after I bought the phone and the things she said to me in Miami, all while Ashley just sits in the tub with me, slowly wiping me with the soapy rag over and over again.
I’m already fully clean, but I think she’s just trying to keep physical contact with me for support, without it being sexual, even though when I think about the night I fucked her up against the window while waiting for Millie to appear, my cock rises in the water.
“You know…” She starts then pauses, scrunching up her nose in thought. “It’s possible she didn’t have a choice.”
“Of course she had a choice. She wasn’t in danger; she was with me.”
“Yes, but how many times did she mention her sister, and what they did in the past. She never once mentioned where she is now.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why would any woman eat out of someone else’s trash just because their dominant told them to, especially when he wasn’t with her to witness it? He has something he’s holding over her head.”
“You think he has her sister?”
“He’s a fucking weasel. I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“For what though?” I ask her, stopping her hand from brushing my chest with the now cooling wash rag. “She’s not rich, far from it. What would he get out of it?”
“Shits and giggles?” She asks, shrugging her shoulders. “Maybe you should bother to listen to the hundreds of messages she left. It couldn’t hurt, except to piss you off more if I’m wrong. But Adrian, how often am I wrong?"
"Never."
"Exactly.”
“Fuck.”
“Stay here. Where’s your phone?” She asks, standing up, letting the soapy water fall off her slender body in sheets right in front of me, but now, instead of looking at her like I want to fuck her brains out, I barely notice the swell of her breasts, and the way her hips flare a little.
She hops out of the bath and crosses the room to where my clothes lay discarded on the floor, and picks up my pants, digging in the front pocket just as the cell starts ringing again.
“Is it her?” I ask as she looks at the screen and enters my password to unlock it.
“Yeah.”
“You answer it.”
“Me?” She asks with a high-pitched squeal. “Why?”
“I can’t.”
“Baby.” She says, sticking out her tongue at me playfully. “Fine.” With the press of the green phone icon she answers my phone in the most professional voice ever. “Adrian Lambert’s phone, Ashley speaking.”
I sit in the tub, the water growing colder by the second, watching her face as she listens. Her brows draw in together and she starts chewing her thumb nail, which is something she only does when she’s concentrating really hard on something that’s bothering her.
