Page 43 of Asher Black (The Five Syndicates)
Aimee: Ugh… U suck.
Aimee: I’m giving u 24 hours to text back, then I’m calling the cops. I mean it, Loosey Goosey!
I roll my eyes. Those texts have pretty decent grammar and spelling given how drunk Aimee probably was when she typed them. I open my call log and tap the voicemail button. I click play, pressing the phone to my ear and plugging my other ear with a finger to hear well.
When I glance up at Asher, he’s staring at me, no longer on the phone with Monica. I mouth Aimee’s name as the beginnings of the voicemail start to play. Asher takes the phone from my hands.
“Hey!” I say, watching helplessly as he puts the phone on speaker and restarts the voicemail.
I wait in mortified anticipation as Aimee’s message commences, her drunken voice crisp and loud on the speakers.
“Loosey Goosey! You better answer your phone. What happened to bros before hos?” She pauses. “Or is it chicks before dicks?” There’s some rustling. “I’m eating all of your Starbursts, Lucy. There are only oranges left for me to eat, while you’re at Asher’s, probably enjoying his yummy cock.”
Oh, gosh.
My hands cover my face. I can’t even look at Asher.
Aimee isn’t done embarrassing me. “I bet he’s huge. What is he? 8 inches? 9? Don’t tell me he’s, like, a one incher. I swear, I’ll be so disappointed. I won’t be able to look at another dick again.”
I leap up, trying to snatch the phone from Asher’s hand. But he’s unsurprisingly quicker than me, pausing the message before tackling me onto the bed. He has both my wrists bound with one of his hands and my body trapped beneath his. I hold my breath and close my eyes. His whole body is intimately pressed against mine, so I can’t think straight.
Then, he presses play on the message again with his free hand.
“Gosh, could you imagine having sex with Asher Black? If anybody deserves it, it’s you after that three year dry spell.”
Two, I want to correct, but what’s the point?
That’s still a long time.
I groan and peek an eye open. Asher is grinning, which actually makes him look human. It reminds me of the time I went to Disneyland with my group home on a weekday, and there was no line for Space Mountain. I went on the ride again and again and again that day, wanting to draw out the rare gift until I couldn’t anymore. I want to do the same with Asher’s smile, because there might not be a next time.
I think about snatching my iPhone out of his hands and taking a picture. But not before deleting the voicemail, of course. This is the largest I’ve ever seen Asher smile, and it’s naturally at my expense.
Aimee is the worst best friend ever.
“Tell me if he makes you orgasm,” she continues. “I bet you’ll have multiple orgasms.” Aimee yawns. “Asher Orgasms. They’re probably so good that they deserve their own name. Ashorgasms? Ashgasms? As—” There’s a loud snore. Aimee fell asleep over the phone.
We wait for more, Asher’s body still pressed against mine, but after thirty more seconds of snores, he ends the voicemail. I note that he doesn’t delete it.
“Ashgasms?” he asks.
“Shut up,” I say, very aware that he’s still on me and my hands are still bound by his.
He dips his head lower, nuzzling his face into my neck before whispering into my ear, “She’s not wrong, you know. The things I can do to you will ma—”
Of course, that’s when Monica chooses to show up, not even bothering to knock.
“Ashe—” she pauses when she sees us, a harsh look instantly crossing her face.
The things he can do to me will what?! I need to know. I immediately hate Monica for interrupting us. I mentally thank her for it, too. Who knows what would have happened if she didn’t?
I take a moment to study her for the first time. She’s pretty. Really pretty, with pale blonde hair, wide blue eyes, a petite frame and endlessly long legs. Naturally, she’s also well-dressed and has on nude pumps painted a famous red at the soles. All in all, she looks like someone more suited to be Asher’s fake fiancée than me.
I’m not jealous, though. If I’m going to get through this experience unscathed, I can’t like him like that. I can’t even think like that. Asher still has dangerous mafia connections, and while I know him pretty well after hours of going over green card questionnaires and am confident he won’t hurt me, it still isn’t enough to form a real relationship bond that only time is capable of. And without that bond, I have no justification for jealousy.
So, yeah… that little clench I feel in my heart?
That’s not jealousy.
