“You know, I think they’re going to be okay.”
It’s funny to see Ana’s dad in something other than jeans or Carhartts and a T-shirt, but I have to say, the man looks pretty damn debonair in a tuxedo.
The cowboy hat is his insistence. Ana fought him on it. I think it’s awesome. Hell, it’ll lend some needed character to this event, that’s for sure. I’m similarly dressed as Hank, in a full black tuxedo - sans cowboy hat, though I do make a mental note to see about buying one.
I turn and grin as I bring my lips down to kiss the top of Ana’s head, my arm sliding around her waist. I thought she’d fight me on what I got her to wear tonight. Hell, I expected it. I figured she’d insist on some sort of “vintage” bargain-rack Pretty In Pink Molly Ringwald shit instead of the silver and white custom-fitted Valentino I bought her.
But she loved it. Hell, she even loved it after I told her the price I paid for it.
…I’m kind of all about honesty these days.
“They look fantastic, Dad,” she says, reaching out and pulling one of the Ophelia blossoms close to smell it. “They’re back where they belong.”
“Thanks, Hank. Honestly.”
The master gardener himself shrugs as he turns and grins at me. “Eh, you did all right keeping them half alive, kid.”
He frowns, smoothing the dirt around the freshly planted roses with the toe of the two-thousand-dollar shoes I bought him for the event.
“Except for that French fossil shit you kept dumping on them. I don’t even know what the hell that stuff is.”
I mutter under my breath, making a note to piss on that horticulturalist’s front door the next time I’m in Paris.
The three of us are standing in the greenhouse - the freshly rebuilt, freshly planted new greenhouse. The very same turn of the century gilded-age design, the same wrought iron structure, and it’s even in the very spot where the old one stood.
The filtration systems have been updated. Also, there’s a fire suppression system now.
My mother’s Ophelia roses are small and frail, but Ana’s right - they’re looking way better than they were up in my quarters. They’re in the right place now, and Hank is confident they’re going to come back strong as ever too. Burned, broken, half starved, and smothered in “that French fossils shit,” and they’re going to bounce back just fine.
…This could be a lesson to all of us, really.
“Well, we oughta get to it, shouldn’t we?”
I smile - me, actually, really smiling - nodding at her dad, as I pull Ana close and kiss the top of her head again.
I do that a lot these days.
“Yeah, let’s head over.”
We turn, me leading Ana and helping her navigate the dirt beds in her heels. Hank claps me on the back, in this real fatherly way that brings another grin to my face as I think about our first run-in after Ana and I officially got together. The one where he cornered me in the gardener’s office, told me if I hurt his little girl he’d be the worst thing that ever happened to me, and then clipped the fucking banana out of his own lunch bag clean in two with a pair of gardening sheers.
That’s the sort of image that stays with a man.
The cool November air is a brisk change from the heated greenhouse as we step outside. Ana shivers, and even if we’re not going that far, I shrug my jacket off and drape it over her shoulders, even as she protests.
“Stop being a pain in the butt,” I mutter.
She grins. “Stop being so bossy.”
“Except I am the boss.” I smile widely at her. “I’m your boss.”
“I haven’t signed yet.”
“You will.”
Her eyes twinkle at me in a way I’m still getting used to as she looks up at me.
“You’re awfully confident about that.”
I make sure her dad is a few steps ahead of us before I let my hand drop to her perfect ass and give her a full-palm squeeze through her gown. She laughs, but it’s when I push my hand deeper, down between her legs, that she drags her teeth across her lip and shoots me a warning - and yet hungry - look.
“You’ll sign.” I grin, eyes ahead as we make our way across the lawn of my estate to the party.
We’re celebrating tonight. There’s a lot to celebrate these days, what with me being cleared of charges, Dylan being alive, Brent behind bars, and somehow, beyond all rational probability, me getting the girl and convincing her to marry me.
For real reason, not perjuring ones.
I squeeze my fiancée’s sweet ass again for good measure as we head across the frosty grounds.
There’s a lot to celebrate, but tonight, we’re celebrating one thing specifically. Tonight, I take the step I should have taken a long time ago, where I leave the wandering, aimless, trust fund asshole behind and become something new.
A trust fund asshole with purpose.
It was Ana that put the idea in my head, even if she didn’t know it at the time. Hell, I didn’t know she did at the time either, but the little seed of an idea stuck and grew. And now here we are, at the official grand opening gala.
Ground breaking was a bitch on this place, and it was more than little off-putting to see them start to dig a huge foundation hole fifty feet from the house I grew up in. But it had to be here. Here is where we met, here is where she learned to hate me, and here is where I learned to fight for what I wanted, learned to love, and won her back.
Also, LA is great and all, and New York is unmatched, but Ana put it best: there’s just something about being out here, away from the city out on the ocean that “brings out the muse.”
…That’s creative talk for “Ana writes kick-fucking-ass songs out here.”
Dylan’s not wrong about business ventures like this, but it’s a no-brainer. I mean I’ve got the money, I’ve got the girl, and now it’s time to chase the purpose. And I’m pretty sure I’ve found it.
At first, I thought about just making a ludicrously huge donation to Luminous Records in order to get Ana’s foot back in the door after I ruined her shot there. But then, I went bigger. Bigger, grander, or crazier, depending on your interpretation.
Right, I’m getting ahead of myself.
Tonight, we’re celebrating the official opening of Tumble Down Records.
Ana picked the name.
I fucking love it.
So, yeah, I started a record label. Tumble Down is really two businesses in one - a recording studio here in the Hamptons, and the record label end of things. We’ll keep an office in New York, and maybe in LA or Nashville too eventually. But for now, the whole thing is based here, with me at the helm.
I wasn’t lying when I was, well, lying to Ana about being “Jack” those years before. I don’t actually know how to play an instrument. But I do fucking love music, and it’s that passion that I plan on funneling into this place. I want to find the artists like Ana - the ones that are fucking incredible that other, bigger record companies are too stupid to even take a meeting with.
Actually, through Ana’s connections with the music scenes in New York and LA, we’re already getting a shit-load of requests by bands and solo acts that would seriously floor you to hear.
But I haven’t signed a single person yet. Because who I’m really trying to sign - and she hasn’t yet - is the girl currently at my side, squeezing my hand as we open the front doors.
Yeah, Ana’s being a pill about actually signing the papers, just to fuck with me.
It’s working.
Exploding champagne greets us as we waltz through the front doors of the new - wait for it - thirty fucking million dollar addition to the Crown estate.
And it was worth every damn penny.
It had to be perfect. I wanted it here, but I also didn’t want some douchebag architect from California coming out and trying to build a steel and glass iPhone store in my backyard.
So I had it done to look exactly like the main house it sits next to, down to the brass gutters and the ivy on the stone walls.
The outside, I did. The inside, however, I left to the girl who knows this shit better than I ever could. Ana’s the one that stocked the inside of the five-thousand square foot recording space with probably the most enviable collection of vintage gear and modern recording equipment an upstart studio has ever had. Of course, upstart recording studios don’t usually have the backing of a founder and CEO worth two hundred million dollars.
Oh, right, my trust came through.
…It was pretty fucking huge.
Music and laughter and voices fill the big recording room as the party gets underway. I don’t exactly keep many good friends, and I’ve got a fairly nonexistent extended family. But the ones I do have, and the ones I do care about are all here. Dylan, Ash, Tyler, the wasted sorority girl Tyler brought with him who no one - him included - seems to know. My future father-in-law finds a fellow country fan in Katrina’s girlfriend Angela. Carl and his date for the evening - a good looking dude who looks half his age - play an awesome combo of David Bowie, Talking Heads, and LCD Soundsystem over the studio speakers. René Van Der Haus, and Ty’s sister Kensington drink champagne with Mrs. Tottingham, her biker-boyfriend, Earl, and her niece Charlotte, who’s staying with us for a while from London.
And of course, my fiancée - the love of my fucking life, who I probably don’t deserve, on my arm.
It’s crazy and loud, and I’m pretty much soaked in champagne within a minute of walking in the door, but I love it. It’s what I hope this place is, always.
Magnificent madness.
“Hey remember when I told you this was a stupid business plan?”
I turn to see Ash passing me a beer, Dylan grinning next to him.
“I remember not listening to you.”
Dylan grins. “I’m glad you didn’t.” He pulls me into a firm hug. “Congrats man, you’re going to kill it.”
“You have someone look over those contracts yet?”
“Working on it.” I raise a brow at Ash.
“You know you’re awfully curious about all this for a guy who’s gone out of his way to remind me about a million times that he’s not the legal counsel for Tumble Down.”
“Yeah, still not an entertainment lawyer, dick.”
“And yet still hounding me about the legal shit.”
Ash rolls his eyes and sips from his beer. “Fine. Get sued for missing a deliverable you didn’t know about, or get hosed on a long-tail royalty split. See if I fucking care.”
Dylan smirks. “Not an entertainment lawyer, huh?”
“Fuck you.” Ash nods his chin at me. “Just get that shit looked at before you have anyone sign anything, all right?”
I shrug. “Yeah, I’ll get around to it.”
“Sooner would be better, dude.”
I glance quickly at Dylan and grin before I clear my throat.
“I mean, if you were free tomorrow, I guess you could take a look at—”
“I know what you’re doing.”
Ash glares at me. I grin innocently right back at him until he shakes his head, looking away to hide the smile.
“You are such an asshole. Fine, I’ll look at the fucking contracts.”
“Softie.”
“Dickhead.”
“Be my corporate attorney?”
“Not for all the tea in China.”
“How about an obscenely large paycheck?”
Ash laughs, shaking his head.
“And here I was thinking Ana was going to iron out your wrinkles.”
He nods his chin across the room at my fiancée, who’s off laughing with Charlotte and Kensington, and clinks his bottle to mine.
“Hey, congrats man. Honestly. I just hope she eventually gets over the regret of turning me down back in high school. You know, for your sake.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re a douchebag.”
“Dude! This is…” a visibly wasted Tyler suddenly stumbles into our circle, throws his arm over my shoulder, and claps me on the back. “This is fucking awesome.”
The thing is, he’s right. This is fucking awesome. I grin to myself as I gaze across the room at Ana, her whole face lighting up as she throws her head back and laughs that laugh that’s quickly becoming my favorite song. I’ve got the girl, I’ve got my life back, and now I’m about to start something that feels bigger than me, for once.
…Just as soon as I get her to sign that fucking contract.
* * *
“So, I’m curious.”
Ana gasps, whirling and shooting me a look as my hand cups her ass and my voice rasps in her ear.
“If it’s about whether or not you should be feeling me up in the middle of our own party, I think you probably already know the answer.”
“Is this a trick question?”
She blushes, arching a brow at me. She doesn’t move my hand from her ass.
“And how may I help you, Mr. Crown?”
I growl low in my throat. “Actually, can you go ahead and exclusively refer to me that way once you sign?”
Ana rolls her eyes before batting them at me and giving me this over the top innocent look.
“Oh, Mr. Crown,” she purrs in pure southern twang. “I’ll just do anything to get my music heard!”
I grin widely.
“I could get used to this.”
She laughs as she leans up to kiss me. “Oh, I bet you could.”
“And to think, you once almost walked away from these lips for an imaginary friend.”
She punches my arm playfully.
“You know I still can’t decide if I forgive you for lying about having cancer.”
“For the record, I never said Jack had cancer. It’s not my fault you can’t tell a morphine drip from a chemo one.”
Ana rolls her eyes, grinning.
“For real though, what’s the hold up with signing the contract?”
She shrugs as she takes a quick sip of champagne.
“What’s in it for me?”
“You mean besides a recording contract and a frankly ludicrous royalty agreement at the hottest new indie record label in town?”
“Aren’t there supposed to be added perks? You know, something to sweeten the deal?”
Maybe it’s the champagne.
Maybe it’s the buzz from this whole new adventure I’m starting in on.
Maybe it’s the fact that she looks fucking amazing in that Valentino.
Or maybe it’s just that for all the ways I’ve changed, one thing hasn’t and probably never will: being around Anastasia makes me want to literally tear her clothes off and fuck her like an animal.
“You looking for me to sweeten the deal?”
I pull her close, my hand moving down from just cupping her ass to running a finger down over that tantalizing crease.
“Bastian.”
“What if I sweeten the deal by laying you out on that new custom Steinway in the piano sound booth, tearing your panties off, and tongue-fucking your pussy until you can’t walk straight.”
Her brows arch, and the way that little gasp trembles on her lips has my cock quickly making a very large tent in the front of my tuxedo.
“You have a filthy mouth, Mr. Crown.”
“You have no idea.”
“Yes, I do,” she purrs.
I grab her hand and pull her after me.
Ana laughs, startled. “Now?” she whispers sharply as I pull her from the main room and down the hall toward the individual sound booths.
“Absolutely.”
She suddenly pulls me back, pulling me around and crushing herself against me as her lips find mine, right there in the hallway.
“Good, these panties were starting to get uncomfortable anyway,” she whispers heatedly.
“And why’s that?”
She drags her lips from my mouth to my ear, her breath making my cock pulse in my tuxedo pants.
“Too wet.”
I growl, and she barely has time to catch a breath before I’m yanking her the rest of the way, practically breaking down the door to the piano room, and kicking it shut behind us. Ana moans as I slam her against the brand new, custom built Steinway. Her dress slips up high as she wraps a leg around my waist and pulls at me eagerly.
This is what I love about her - the spontaneity. The being as crazy as me. The fact that deep down, she’s as wild as me, too.
I grind into her, letting her feel how fucking hard I am for her as I push the Valentino up around her waist. She bites at my ear as my lips find her neck, and she groans as my hands slide up her body to cup her breast and roll her nipples through the thin gown.
“We’re going to be missed soon,” she hisses.
“Too bad. I’ve been missing tasting your pussy for much longer, so the rest of them can fuck off and wait.”
She moans as I lift her up and set her ass down on the edge of the piano. I go to tear at her dress, but she stops me.
“Wait wait wait! Hang on!”
She carefully pulls the Valentino up over her head and drapes it back over the piano.
“That thing is crazy expensive. I’m not just going to let you tear it off,” she says primly at the look on my face.
“We can buy another one,” I growl as I move in, my eyes drinking in her perfect body, sitting there in her sheer white and silver bra and panties.
…The front of the panties are bit more sheer than they might usually be, and I can feel my cock throbbing at the thought of tasting that honey.
I move between her legs, my lips finding hers and kissing her fiercely as she pulls her bra off.
“On your knees, Ms. Bell,” I growl into her lips. She whimpers, but as she pulls away, I see that wicked glint in her eyes.
“You want me on my knees, Mr. Crown?”
She says it in that super hot, southern-twanged innocent voice from before, and I groan.
“Now.”
Ana grins, biting her lip and batting her eyes.
“Will you give me a spanking if I don’t?”
I grin wickedly, and she giggles.
“Okay, hang on,” her voice is normal again. “Let’s save that for when I don’t have to stand around a party for another few hours with my ass hurting.”
“Turn over, beautiful, I growl, kissing her and running a finger down her inner thigh.
She pulls away again, breathing heavily as she moves onto her hands and knees on top of the piano. She lowers her head down, arching her back and raising her ass up high.
Perfect height.
She shivers as I pull her panties down over her perfect little candy apple ass. She’s so fucking wet, and I can feel my head swimming like I’m drunk at the sight of her pink, slick pussy.
I let the panties tangle at her knees as I move in and place my hands on her ass. I hold her firmly, spreading her wide as I move in, and slowly, I let my tongue drag up every little millimeter of her.
Ana cries out, moaning for more as I tongue her slowly, teasing her clit and dragging my tongue through her lips. I spread them and push my tongue deep inside, my hands guiding her ass as I start to tongue fuck her slowly.
Moans fill the - thankfully soundproof - room, her sweet honey drips down my chin, and I’m hard as fucking stone as I lick the love of my life’s sweet, perfect pussy until she’s shaking. My tongue curls over her clit, my thumb pushes deep inside her pussy, and I let another finger drift lightly over her asshole.
Ana explodes as the orgasm rips through her. She shakes so hard her knees give out, but I’m catching her, turning her gently over on top of the piano and into my arms. She kisses me hungrily, hands tugging at my belt and shoving my tux pants down to the ground as I lose my jacket and shirt. She coos into my lips as she wraps a hand around my cock, stroking me slowly and then faster as I growl and twist in her hand.
Her legs spread, and she pulls me close.
“Fuck me,” she groans into my ear.
“One thing first.”
I grin to myself as I grab my jacket off the piano bench and reach inside the front pocket.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Ana stares at me, and then the copy of the record contract and pen in my hand.
“Sign”
“Bastian, now?”
She goes to pull away from me, but I hold her fast.
“Hang on, this isn’t me being a dick.”
I shake my head and glance around the room.
“All this?” I shrug as my eyes land back on hers. “It means shit without you.”
“I’m already a part of it.”
“Yeah, but not in the way I want.”
She is a part of it, of course. In spirit and support of course, but also financially. Or, at least she will be, once we’re officially married. Ana brought up the idea of a prenup and her signing one when I first proposed, but I told her no.
And I meant it.
But it’s not money or support I’m talking about right now. I’m talking more than that.
“You’re aware I built this place for you, right?”
She moans as I run my fingers down her thighs again, letting them trace up and down her dripping wet slit
“Not ‘for me’, for me, you mean you—”
“No, I mean that quite literally.”
She raises a brow.
“I built every brick of this place for you, and I’m telling you, I’ll tear every one back down if I can’t have you as the first talent I sign.”
She eyes me, chewing on her bottom lip.
“You actually mean that, don’t you.”
“I’ve got a sledgehammer ready to go.”
She grins. “No, I mean you really did build this for me.”
“What can I say.” I grin wolfishly as I move forward and let the head of my erection brush against her opening.
“I’m a big fan.”
I push the head inside - bare - and she gasps.
“Apparently you are,” she groans.
I push another inch inside, reaching down to play with her clit, and she moans loudly.
“You drive a hard bargain, you know,” she gasps.
“I can drive a hard other things too,” I growl. I rock my hips forward and push the rest of my length inside of her. Ana cries out.
“Okay, okay!” she gasps, suddenly pulling me close and kissing me fiercely.
“That a yes?”
“You promise to keep making me feel like this?” she gasps again.
“Absolutely,” I groan, feeling her squeeze me tight as the shiver trembles through her.
“Then that’s a big yes,” she moans wildly. She groans as I grind deep inside of her, my lips teasing up her neck.
“Such a pushover,” I growl into her ear, sliding in deep. My hands grab her ass, pulling her against me as I start to fuck her in slow, deep thrusts.
“I was going to sign anyway, you know,” she moans, her hands on my hips, pulling me eagerly into her.
I close my eyes as I bury my face in her neck, losing myself in the sweet heaven of her body moving against mine.
“Fuck, well now I just feel used.”
“Awww, poor baby.” Ana’s lip catches between her teeth as she looks up at me, her face a mask of lust as we start to move faster and faster.
“How can I make it up to you?” she purrs.
“Marry me,” I growl, pulling her close and rock in deep. She cries out, her nails scratching down my back and her nipples grazing over my hard chest as I bury my cock balls-deep in her over and over again.
“Done,” she whimpers, her hands clawing at me like she’s hanging on for dear life as we start to move faster and faster.
She gasps as I pick her up, keeping myself buried deep inside of her as I move us to the piano bench and sit down with her straddling me. Ana takes over, her hips rolling and bouncing as she starts to ride me faster and faster. Her hair comes loose, tangling around her face. I grab it in my fist, pulling her head back just enough to make her cry out as my lips and teeth find the sensitive skin there.
“Banging a prospective client for a contract,” Ana grins at me through the pleasure on her face as she rides my cock. “God, the sordid music industry is taking you over already.”
“Screwing and marrying your boss for a record contract?” I make a tsking sound as I bring one hand down across her sweet little ass, making her cry out. “Who’s the sordid one here?”
“Says the man taking advantage of an eager young musician in the piano room.”
“Says the girl leaving wet spots on my piano who’s about to come all over my cock.”
She moans, loudly, and I can feel myself start to let go.
“You think talking filthy to me is going to make me come?” she groans, her hips moving faster and faster, her breath coming in staggering gasps, and her nipples dragging over my chest.
“Anastasia,” I growl. She whimpers as it leaves my lips, as if I needed a reminder of the effect me saying her name still has on her.
My hand tightens on her ass and in her hair, my body coils and thrusts as I rock my hips up to meet hers, and I graze my lips across her ear.
“I know me talking filthy is going to make that sweet little pussy come,” I purr. “And I want to feel you come all over my cock.”
“Shit, Bastian.”
“Come for me.”
It’s like a bomb going off. She screams as she comes, loud enough to make me appreciate the soundproofing of the room, and she shudders as her whole body clenches up tight and then shatters around me. Her hands rake across my skin hard enough to make me bleed, and her pussy clenches so-fucking-tight around my throbbing cock.
And I let go.
I roar into her lips, tasting her, swallowing her moans as I pump into her again and again, until my head’s swimming and I’m barely aware of anything but her, me, and the place where we join.
We stay like that for a minute, just rocking slowly on the piano bench - hands tracing skin and lips finding the places they miss.
“I actually signed this morning.”
I pull back to see the huge, Cheshire grin across her lips.
“You are evil.”
She giggles, pulling me close and wrapping her legs around my waist.
“Surprised?”
“Oh my God, I feel so used.”
Ana snorts, laughing as her lips find mine. I kiss her slowly, holding her close.
Holding her like she’s mine.
Holding her like she was mine from the start.
“I love you,” I whisper against her lips.
“I love you too.”
* * *
Back at the party, we seem to have not been missed as the whole thing is just getting more and more full of laughter, love, and great music.
Hell, I don’t even mind that Carl has “Time After Time” cranked up loud like we’re at the class of 1985’s senior prom.
Because this is family.
This is life.
And the love just keeps coming.
Dylan does his impression of me driving off a cliff since we’re laughing about that now. Ash gets busted rolling a joint by Hank, who then drags him outside and smokes it with him. Tyler’s date blacks out on a couch while he tells me for the fifth time how awesome it is that I own a recording studio, and for the tenth time how hot Charlotte is.
René Van Der Haus jokingly scolds me for taking her to a “cheap motel” and then gives Ana a big squeeze, thanking her for “reining me in.”
Mrs. Tottingham hugs me, a lot, and tells me how proud of me she is.
I tell her I love her.
The truth is, I’m scared to fucking death of what’s going to happen now. I’m scared of failure, and of letting Ana down. I’m scared that all of this is a dream, and that any second now I’ll wake up alone, broken, and bitter.
I startle at the feel of her hand slipping into mine, and I turn to see her smiling at me as she leans her head on my shoulder. Carl switches to David Bowie’s “Heroes”, and as it starts blasting at full volume, Ana sways against me to the backing beat. Friends and family dance, and the love fills the room.
Her hand squeezes mine.
The electricity sparks through me right to my heart.
The fear fades.
Is this a fairytale? Probably not quite. But - to quote my favorite Anastasia Bell song - life’s a kick in the teeth, and love’s a beautiful beast.
I got the girl, and I’m never letting her go.
How’s that for a happy ever fucking after?
The End.