Remember when

I don't remember the last time I slept with him. He was just my "fuck buddy" but I didn't feel that way. Not at all. I felt a strange connection between us, and that wasn't all.

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1. Bitch please

Hey, bitch.

Those little words punched me in the gut, like Ashton did.

Ashton. That's what I forgot. Today was his birthday, but I don't give a fuck. That bastard won't get anything from me, ever.

Ashton was my fuck buddy, but it got complicated. Very complicated, and it killed me to watch him walk away without a single regret. Maybe he did just use me for sex, but not like I didn't enjoy it. For gods sake, it was Ashton fucking Irwin. Who would pass up that gorgeous opportunity? Definently not this bitch. And all the other sluts he slept with. But I didn't care, I was his favorite whatever that meant.

I was a very shy, depressed, girl before Ashton and his posse came along and transformed me into this slut. In ways, I shouldn't be happy I was a slut, but I was. I slept with Ashton almost every Thursday and Saturday (maybe a little inbetween) for two years. And it wasn't just Ashton I slept with. And for that, I gained the reputation as the school slut.

"Ariana," he called.

He smirked as I slowly, seductively walked over to him, and say obediently on his lap.

"Yes, daddy?" I asked. It drove him nuts when I called him that.

I got up before I could feel the lump growing beneath me. It was fun to torture him like this, and it was a great way to get laid. He'd simply have to fuck me every time I called him daddy.

He pulled me back down, and whispered in my ear, "Don't do that again," he chuckled softly, "or I might just have to fuck you on this table," I smirked to myself, complimenting my effect on him.

We were interrupted as his two tween twin daughters came up whining about One Direction.

"What do you need?" He asked sweetly.

Boy, he was never this sweet to me, but it was cute. But I'd rather have him rough than soft, if you know what I mean.

I've been babysitting Grace and Marty since they were 11. Marty and Grace are Ashton's daughters- twins to be exact. They only thought of me as a babysitter, not as the 18 year-old girl who fucks their 32 year-old father (I know Ashton's younger but who cares).

"What a nice family," I say to myself.

Ashton is married to Mindy, a horrible person, wife, an mother.

Not to mention that Ashton is richer than Batman, but I bet his money isn't the only reason she married him.

Ash has got a gorgeous body, personality, and he's amazing in sexual ways.

"I want to go home," Grace says bluntly.

"Why?" He questions, laughing a little at her emotionless demand.

She looks around to see if anyone is looking, and then bends down and whispers to us, "There's a mean boy here,"

I see his eyes light up with anger as him and his daughter continue to talk.

I interrupt them, and Ashton doesn't like that, but I can make that up later.

"Where's this boy?" I ask her.

She points at a boy in a blue sweater, sipping his Starbucks like he's a fucking white piece of trash.

I walk over to him, "What's your name?" I ask him sweetly.

"Harry," he said, eyeing me happily. Classic 14 year-olds.

"Listen here. See that girl in the purple?" He nods, " hurt her again, and I'll go Saudi Arabia on your white ass and chop your balls off. Got it?" He nods again, speechless.

I smile, then walk away.

I guess Ashton was jealous I was close to Harry's crotch rather than his.

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