Page 36 of Embers in Autumn
The image of her curled up in bed with some shirtless guy on the cover—worse, some fantasy version of me—did something to me I hadn’t been ready for. My brain painted the picture too well. Amber, hair down, biting her lip, bare legs tangled in a blanket, a book in one hand and her other sliding lower.
Jesus.
By the time I started teasing her about it, my cock was already hard. But when she admitted she was following my instructions, touching herself while I fed her filth through the phone? I lost it. I hadn’t even seen her, but knowing she was obeying me, that she was trembling because I told her to… it wrecked me.
Now I was flat on my bed, phone still glowing on the nightstand, my body strung so tight it hurt. My cock pressed painfully against the front of my sweats, and every time I shifted, I imagined her hand instead of mine. Her wet, soft heat wrapping around me, her voice breaking while she begged me not to stop.
I shoved a hand through my hair and groaned.Get it together, Bennett.But the truth was, I didn’t want to get it together. I wanted her. I wanted her spread out on my sheets, crying my name while I fucked her until she forgot the asshole who had ever made her doubt she was worth the world.
Fuck.
I rolled off the bed, stripping as I went, leaving a trail of clothes across the floor. The shower hissed on, steam filling the small room, but I knew damn well this wasn’t about washing smoke off anymore. My cock ached, thick and heavy, and all I could think about was Amber. Amber with her hazel eyes glazed, Amber whisperingDeanwhile her fingers worked between her thighs, Amber opening her mouth for me, begging for more.
I stepped under the spray, hot water pounding my shoulders, and wrapped my fist around myself. One stroke, two, and I was gone, hips snapping, breath ragged as I chased the ghost of her touch.
“Fuck, Amber,” I muttered, head dropping against the tile.
The fantasy took me under, vivid and brutal. Her on her knees in front of me, lips wrapped around my cock, gagging sweetly when I pushed deeper. Her beneath me, nails raking my back as I drove into her, hard and rough, until she was screaming into my shoulder. Her riding me, sweat dripping down her chest, hair sticking to her flushed skin, while I grabbed her hips and slammed her down over and over.
I jerked faster, water cascading, every nerve lit like fire. I wanted it too much. Needed it too much.
The release hit hard, tearing a groan out of me as my whole body shuddered. Hot and violent, spilling across my hand and washing away in the stream. I stood there for a long moment, chest heaving, forehead pressed to cool tile, trying to breathe her out of my system.
But she didn’t leave. Even as the water rinsed me clean, sheclung to me, the memory of her voice, her laugh, the way she had tasted on my lips.
Thank God I’d been so dead on my feet last night. Otherwise, I would have been up until dawn, wound tight and thinking of Amber. As it was, the second my head hit the pillow, I was gone.
She was in my dreams, of course. But instead of what my body craved, the dream had been painfully decent. We were in the bookstore, Lana laughing with her over some silly display, Amber’s hazel eyes catching mine like they always did. I woke up both disappointed and oddly steadied, like my brain was reminding me she wasn’t just the heat. She was more.
By the time I dragged myself into the kitchen, the sun was low and bright over the hill, and the damn coffee machine was rattling like it was about to launch into orbit. I’d been meaning to replace it for months, but somehow, I always found an excuse not to.
The noise brought Lana shuffling down the hall, hair sticking out on one side, face scrunched into a scowl. “Dad. It sounds like a jet engine.”
“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” I said, pouring water into the machine. “Want a ham omelet?”
She yawned wide enough to show all her teeth, then nodded, dropping into a chair at the table. I cracked eggs into a bowl, whisking them with a fork, and threw slices of ham into the pan. The smell lifted the grump right out of the air.
By the time I slid her plate in front of her, she was awake enough to eat without complaint. I sat down with mine, poking at it while the words I needed to say gathered like rocks in my throat.
“Hey,” I said finally. “Do you remember the lady from the bookstore? Amber.”
“Yeah. What about her?”
I rubbed the back of my neck, staring at the steam curling offmy omelet. “Well… I, uh, invited her over for dinner tomorrow. If that’s okay with you.”
Her eyes widened, surprise flashing across her face. She blinked at me, then set her fork down slowly. “Wait. You invited her? Like… for dinner? Here?”
“Yeah. Just dinner. Nothing crazy.”
“Dad,” she said, still stunned, “you don’t date. Like… ever.”
The words hit harder than she knew. I sat back, taking a breath, feeling the weight of it. “If it bothers you,” I said carefully, “I can cancel.”
She studied me for a long moment, her expression too sharp for twelve. Then, slowly, she smiled. “No. It doesn’t bother me. It’s just… in all the years I’ve known you, you never brought anybody home.”
I pushed a piece of omelet around my plate, suddenly sixteen myself. “Well.”
She stood, padding to the fridge, and pulled out the orange juice. The carton thunked against the table as she poured herself a glass. “This woman must be special.”
