Tease Me (Teased and Broken Book 1) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Ashley Black
thinking
I think TOO MUCH
My head is full of ME
And YOU
Mostly YOU.
ALWAYS YOU.
I invited him to come to Ashby, commenting:
Then you would never have to think again.
When he was despondent like this, we would jump on Skype and talk to each other. It was surreal to see him face to face. I spoke to him in my lingerie. It seemed a bit crazy, but very in keeping with my teasing of him. Besides, I wrote in my lingerie, and didn’t see a need to cover up for Thornton Darko.
The last few occasions, he had greeted me in the mask. I didn’t think anything of it. In fact, I thought it was kind of sexy. I didn’t even comment on it, though I did want to see that gorgeous face of his, to see that mouth, the way it moved so flawlessly over words. I had a thing for Batman. But Thornton Darko’s mask was so much more bad ass. He told me that even though it looked menacing, he actually had the mould done when he was reading something in thoughtful repose – if it looked menacing but calm, that was probably why. Didn’t matter. I loved it. I loved the black death tears, the mean black line across his generous mouth lifted at one corner in the slightest of smiles or smirks, depending upon your perspective.
I realized in horror, I was falling in love with him. An idea. A fantasy. My muse.
What I had intended to be bit of a harmless tease was having ramifications for my stupid heart. Shit. I don’t know how I had lost the upper hand here.
But lost it I had.
He just left me breathless and senseless.
Unlike me, whenever we spoke on Skype, masked or not, quite the contrast to my attire, or lack there of, he was always dressed in head to toe black. Layers upon layers of black
There were not a lot of photos of him without being dressed in head to toe black. In fact, I had only glimpsed one photo of his body, snapped at a distance, once in the magazines whilst he had been on tour. He had been standing in the middle of a field, head tilted back to catch the fading sunlight as it meekly slid behind the looming mountains in the distance. He’d been shirtless, his mask dangling from the fingertips of his right hand, a shiver of a scowl about to break across his beautiful face. I knew he was heavily tattooed, and had a confusing mess of angels and demons inked upon that wideset muscular chest of his, with a black cross dead centre. And I knew at least from that picture, he was in spectacular shape.
And only a week into teasing Thornton Darko, he did the impossible thing. Impossible, because most people told me he almost never allowed anyone to see his body like this.
Yet he allowed me to see him. He bared himself to me. I recorded it, of course. I wanted to show everyone I knew.
This was after I received this despondent message from him:
I wish I could turn my back on everything sometimes. Leave it all behind.
Then:
I want you to see me. The man behind the mask.
Well, I want to see you, hell yes, Mr. Sexy Rock Star! I smiled, but despite trying to reach him for two hours, all I got was nothing. Stage fright, perhaps? I thought of how impossibly beautiful he was, and shook my head. Unlikely.
Eventually, my messenger lit up with his name, and a link to a live video with a message:
*smiles … shyly* It seems only fair when you torment me with your beautiful flesh, that you should see more of mine. If you show this to any one, I will kill you. I mean this. To access the live Thorn show – use the password.
I grinned. Which is?
LOL. Prick.
I sent him a smiley face, and hit the link, taking a gulp of wine to embolden me. Holy shit, my own private show from Mr. Thornton Darko himself! Impossible! I was excited, and glad he couldn’t see me.
I typed into the comments box so he could see it. I’ve arrived.
At first, all I saw was an empty room, and text appeared before he made his entrance.
But I haven’t done a single thing to make you cum yet, love. I very much doubt you have
I think TOO MUCH
My head is full of ME
And YOU
Mostly YOU.
ALWAYS YOU.
I invited him to come to Ashby, commenting:
Then you would never have to think again.
When he was despondent like this, we would jump on Skype and talk to each other. It was surreal to see him face to face. I spoke to him in my lingerie. It seemed a bit crazy, but very in keeping with my teasing of him. Besides, I wrote in my lingerie, and didn’t see a need to cover up for Thornton Darko.
The last few occasions, he had greeted me in the mask. I didn’t think anything of it. In fact, I thought it was kind of sexy. I didn’t even comment on it, though I did want to see that gorgeous face of his, to see that mouth, the way it moved so flawlessly over words. I had a thing for Batman. But Thornton Darko’s mask was so much more bad ass. He told me that even though it looked menacing, he actually had the mould done when he was reading something in thoughtful repose – if it looked menacing but calm, that was probably why. Didn’t matter. I loved it. I loved the black death tears, the mean black line across his generous mouth lifted at one corner in the slightest of smiles or smirks, depending upon your perspective.
I realized in horror, I was falling in love with him. An idea. A fantasy. My muse.
What I had intended to be bit of a harmless tease was having ramifications for my stupid heart. Shit. I don’t know how I had lost the upper hand here.
But lost it I had.
He just left me breathless and senseless.
Unlike me, whenever we spoke on Skype, masked or not, quite the contrast to my attire, or lack there of, he was always dressed in head to toe black. Layers upon layers of black
There were not a lot of photos of him without being dressed in head to toe black. In fact, I had only glimpsed one photo of his body, snapped at a distance, once in the magazines whilst he had been on tour. He had been standing in the middle of a field, head tilted back to catch the fading sunlight as it meekly slid behind the looming mountains in the distance. He’d been shirtless, his mask dangling from the fingertips of his right hand, a shiver of a scowl about to break across his beautiful face. I knew he was heavily tattooed, and had a confusing mess of angels and demons inked upon that wideset muscular chest of his, with a black cross dead centre. And I knew at least from that picture, he was in spectacular shape.
And only a week into teasing Thornton Darko, he did the impossible thing. Impossible, because most people told me he almost never allowed anyone to see his body like this.
Yet he allowed me to see him. He bared himself to me. I recorded it, of course. I wanted to show everyone I knew.
This was after I received this despondent message from him:
I wish I could turn my back on everything sometimes. Leave it all behind.
Then:
I want you to see me. The man behind the mask.
Well, I want to see you, hell yes, Mr. Sexy Rock Star! I smiled, but despite trying to reach him for two hours, all I got was nothing. Stage fright, perhaps? I thought of how impossibly beautiful he was, and shook my head. Unlikely.
Eventually, my messenger lit up with his name, and a link to a live video with a message:
*smiles … shyly* It seems only fair when you torment me with your beautiful flesh, that you should see more of mine. If you show this to any one, I will kill you. I mean this. To access the live Thorn show – use the password.
I grinned. Which is?
LOL. Prick.
I sent him a smiley face, and hit the link, taking a gulp of wine to embolden me. Holy shit, my own private show from Mr. Thornton Darko himself! Impossible! I was excited, and glad he couldn’t see me.
I typed into the comments box so he could see it. I’ve arrived.
At first, all I saw was an empty room, and text appeared before he made his entrance.
But I haven’t done a single thing to make you cum yet, love. I very much doubt you have
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