14. Ember

14

EMBER

W e pull into the parking lot of a very luxurious hotel, right into the valet area in the front of the lobby. My heartbeat is finally back to normal after stopping at my hotel. Well, my hotel that I’m never going to stay at. Ever.

I can’t imagine walking to and from the bus or train station everyday for the next two weeks in a place like that. I know I’m not well versed in travel, but it doesn’t take a genius to spot a perilous situation like that one. It was immediately clear, no tourists were safe there.

Now I understand why Hudson was so forceful when I first told him where I was staying. I was angry with him at first, putting him in the same category as my brothers and parents, always preventing me from doing anything I wanted to do. But his reaction makes complete sense now.

He exits the car as I reach for the straps of my purse. I’m still a little jarred from the sight of the hooded guy with the crazy eyes, as my door opens and Hudson holds his hand out.

He’s truly a gentleman, and I have no idea what I would have done if I would have Ubered to my hotel tonight. I step out of the truck and reach for my oversized suitcases that have the handles up and ready. He pushes my hand away, grabbing both, pulling them behind him without giving me a second thought.

“Hey, I can take a bag. Give me a bag.” I keep pushing because I hate when people do things for me.

He stops, pulling the suitcases to an upright position, then concedes.

“Fine. But we’re trading.” I squint, unsure of what he means exactly. What is he going to do, carry my purse? But he steps aside so I can grip the handle of one bag, takes a step forward, then holds his now free hand behind his body, blindly searching for mine.

I roll my eyes, shake my head with a smile, then slide my free hand into his.

As we walk into the lobby, which is all marble, glass, and absolutely gorgeous, he steers us directly toward the elevators. We step inside the doors, which are already open and waiting. He slips a magnetic card from his wallet, pressing it to the reader and pressing the twentieth floor.

The top floor.

“You must make a good living playing in the minor leagues?” I smile at him, tipping my chin at the floor panel.

He purses his lips, and a brief expression of sadness crosses his face. “My brothers and I inherited some money when my grandfather passed away. It’s the only reason I’ve been able to support myself while keeping my focus on my baseball. He was my biggest supporter my whole life. Physically, when he was still living, and even now by how he set up our inheritance. If it wasn’t for him, I would be on a totally different path.”

“I’m so sorry.” I was not expecting that response at all. I figured he really did make a decent living as a baseball player, but I have no idea what the minor league would typically pay out to their players .

We ride the rest of the way up in silence, as his thumb caresses the top of my hand, making a circular motion that oddly comforts me, him too, I think.

We finally make it to his suite, and when the door opens, I’m in shock. It’s beautiful. A large, open, expansive living area with couches that overlook a large floor to ceiling window, and a small modern kitchen on one side. The other side is adorned with two french doors, leading into one large room. With one large bed.

“Is this your room?” I ask.

“Our room, little red. Our room.” His answer is as factual as that view is beautiful.

“I can sleep on the couch.” My reply is just as certain. I may have asked to stay here for safety reasons, but I’m not about to burden him and take half his bed.

He huffs something inaudible and shakes his head.

“It’s only for tonight. The condo will be ready to move into tomorrow. It’s fully furnished, so you’ll just need your personal stuff.” He’s rolling my suitcases into his room, clearly deciding they belong there.

“I can find another place by tomorrow,” I say, putting my purse down on the coffee table between the couches.

He stops. Like a dead stop. His head dips down, like he is staring intently at his shoes.

He turns, taking two large purposeful steps toward me, crowding me instantly. Cinnamon and woodsy spice overwhelm my senses as he stands directly in front of me. Lifting my chin to look up at him, his dark chocolate eyes sear into my green ones. It’s so intense, I feel the need to look away.

His grip on my chin stays firm, disabling that thought.

“Stop running from me.” He tilts his head to find my wandering eyes.

“This is simple. We are simple. Let this happen, Ember.” His statement is a plea .

A fucking terrifying plea. I have no idea how to let this happen without allowing it to break me. He could break me.

I pull my nervous lip between my teeth, tugging on the sensitive flesh. He looks down at it, then back up to my eyes. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, and I know he’s holding himself back.

He’s going to kiss me. Do I want him to? I don’t know. I think so. Probably not. But, yes.

Shit .

Just when my brain gives in, he steps back, releasing my chin. He walks back to the room, past the French doors through the bathroom door, closing it behind him.

My breath gives way, and I stand in the middle of the living room with more emotions than I can decipher, aroused being well at the freaking top.

We ordered pizza for dinner, which was better than any pizza I’ve ever had, and ate lazily on the couch together. I haven’t had that much fun eating in, since, well, I don’t think ever. Most dinners at my parents’ house were formal, at the dining table, no matter what kind of food it was.

So this was a breath of fresh air.

We sat in every odd position, sometimes me leaning back with my feet propped up on Hudson’s lap as he attempted to throw sliced olives in the air and catch him in his mouth. He succeeded on every occasion, which makes him far too talented for a random show. Which led me to giving him shit for, more than likely, practicing alone with his previous pizza nights.

I glance at my reflection in the bathroom mirror as I recall tonight and the moments since we met. He’s right. Everything is simple between us .

Simple and scary as hell. One night with him, and I want all of them to be like this. But I have a job to focus on. A career. And he has his baseball and his new position on a new team to worry about. We have goals, and I’m not interested in anything more than a friendship at this point. With anyone. I spent too long trapped in a relationship I didn’t want to be in, and I have no desire to waltz back into another one, as simple as it may be.

I’ve had a few straying thoughts about the whole one bed thing. It’s a little daunting, even though we’ve already had sex, only making this a tad more awkward. Although I only get flashbacks of our night together, each one is like reliving the best porn clip I’ve ever seen. And of course, the wet dream I had the first night I came home was a whole other experience.

Actually, are women’s sex dreams called wet dreams? I’ll have to look that up later.

I finish up in the bathroom, carefully setting my things in the corner of the bathroom sink, so it doesn’t take up too much space on the counter. I’m dressed in my silk pajamas as I walk through the door into the room we’re now sharing. The tank top’s thin straps rest over my shoulders, and the top stops short of my belly button, exposing a little bit of my stomach. The shorts, if you can even call them that, are more like underwear, but this is normally what I sleep in. I don’t really have other options because I didn’t anticipate having any kind of sleepover.

He’s facing the other direction, plugging his phone into the charger built into the nightstand. Black boxer briefs fit snug against his perfectly shaped ass, which is all the clothing he currently has on. His broad back on full display, ink lines his perfectly smooth skin, the charcoal shades crossing over the top of his back, shoulders, and down the middle of his spine. My eyes trail down again, and I’ve decided here and now, this man has officially turned me into an ‘ass girl’ .

I don’t see his face turn in my direction until I hear his phone fall onto the nightstand.

Glancing up, his jaw is slacked, and he’s running his hand through his still damp hair, looking a shade darker than usual.

“Holy shit,” he whispers loud enough for me to hear.

I look down at myself, slightly uncomfortable with my outfit considering the circumstances, and cross my arms over each other, covering my bare tummy.

“Don’t you dare cover yourself.” He’s shaking his head with his demand.

I automatically release my arms as they fall to my sides, like I don’t have a mind of my own.

He stays there, studying me. And like his hair, his eyes are a few notches darker. Maybe it’s the dim lighting, or the fact that his gaze is plowing through me so deeply, but it’s turning my body into jello.

I’ve never had anyone look at me like he’s looking at me. Like he needs to own me. Like his body needs me to survive.

My backstabbing body responds easily to him. My nipples pebble and harden, piercing through the glossy fabric.

I know he knows immediately when his eyes drift down to my chest and he lets out a heavy breath. My hips shift of their own accord, attempting to combat the tingling sensation building at my core.

Can someone eye-fuck you into an orgasm? I think it’s entirely possible at this very moment.

I attempt to ignore my body’s desperate need and walk to one side of the bed, opposite him, as he turns to face me.

He stands there for a second—a year, maybe—his eyes never leaving mine.

“Which side do you like to sleep on?” I ask.

“Whatever side you’re on.” He lunges forward, his knee dipping into the middle of the mattress. One swift move, and he’s pulling me toward him and I’m wrapped in his arms as he slams his lips against mine.

My lips part immediately for him. His tongue invades my mouth and the same comfort his kiss brought me, since the first time he gave me one, engulfs me. My rigid frame softens into him, and everything I’ve been fighting against melts into nothing.

“Do you know I only have one regret about that night?” he says as his lips trail over my jawline toward the shell of my ear.

I don’t reply because I only need one guess to answer that question, being that he married a complete stranger, with no prenup, by the way, because apparently I asked him after being rejected by Elvis.

“Knowing that you don’t recall every minute of that night, when I had you in my arms, my lips on your skin, and my cock inside you, is a special kind of torture I wouldn’t wish on anyone, and I’ll spend all fucking night reminding you of how perfect it was.”

I breathe out a small gasp from the shock of his answer. A bigger gasp, mixed with a groan, falls from my lips when he grips the strap of my top, pulling it down and exposing my hardened nipple before sucking the peak into his wet, hot mouth. White hot flames swarm over my body, licking inside my veins.

In an instant, every part of his body has a complete chokehold on me. One hand gripping my ass, the other pressing my arm to my side, rendering it useless against the punishing lapping of his tongue on my nipple. Not wanting to let go of his grip, he moves toward the other nipple, sucking it over the thin silk. The sensation is teasing and I’m in dire need of more.

He leans back on his heels, his knees bent in front of him. The black boxers are now so tight against his growing cock, the waistband is pulling away from his skin, giving me a barely there view of his pre-cum laced tip, which is just teasing me further.

Spreading my legs over his, I straddle him, centering myself perfectly over the length of his cock.

God, he’s so hard. I roll my hips over him, creating the friction my body is in desperate need of. He groans into my neck as I nuzzle into him, nibbling on his earlobe, licking his jawline and pulling on his hair.

“Fuck, little red.” He pulls down both the straps fully, exposing my breasts now, as he slowly licks over each tight bud.

“I need you. I’ve needed you since the moment I laid eyes on you.” He licks more, lightly sucking, as I continue to ride him just like I did that night on the stage. “I want to fuck you, but I don’t want this to end.”

I don’t have all that much experience in bed, only having one past lover, Elliot . Everything with him was so plain. Vanilla, I guess you could say. He said he didn’t like blowjobs, so if I ever tried, he stopped me. It only happened a couple times, and each time, the rush I felt of the control I had was indescribable.

I shimmy off his legs and place my feet on the ground, pulling myself from Hudson’s grip.

“I didn’t mean to stop.” He urgently follows me off the side of the bed. He’s standing now, giving me easy access to his waistband. I grip the sides and rip them down, and his cock bounces out between us. His eyes widened, shocked at my sudden display of authority.

If a cock could be perfect, this would be it. A display worthy cock, that should probably be molded for a shrine.

I lick my lips to contain my smile and begin to kneel in front of him. His mouth drops open, timed with my descent, and by the time my knees touch the ground, I have the tip on my tongue with my hand wrapped around the base.

He grunts, throwing his head back, then quickly looks down at me again, not wanting to miss the moment when his cock disappears into my mouth. Still gripping the base with one hand and grabbing his hip with my other, I pull him closer, sliding the length of his cock over my tongue, and bob back and forth. I taste the sweet and salty mixture of his pre-cum and moan because that’s so fucking sexy.

“You look so fucking beautiful on your knees, taking my cock like that.”

God, he’s got a sexy, dirty mouth. His words just encourage me to push him deeper into my mouth, testing my gag reflex with every thrust.

I surprise myself when I get used to his size and start breathing through my nose, timing it perfectly with the bobbing of my head. I’m taking him down my throat, then licking him up and down, going back and forth between licking and sucking. His hip movements are completely erratic, and his moaning is deeper and more desperate.

“Ember. Fuck. Mmmm. Your mouth.” He groans between every word. “You make me lose all control.”

Not only is he a dirty talker, but also a moaner, and I can’t get enough of it.

His hand cups the back of my head and he begins to thrust harder. My eyes peer up at him, a twinge of worry behind them, as he takes more control.

“That’s my girl.” His perfect tempo barely avoids my gag reflex, as he takes what he needs. I think he’s ready to come when he urgently pulls away.

“Fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut, huffing out a weighty breath. When he re-opens his eyes, he leans down, grabbing my top, using it to pull me to a standing position, then yanks it up over my head.

We shift, moving together as we switch positions, and I’m closer to the bed. He nudges me back a step until the back of my knees hit the side of the bed, falling on top of it. My hips lift naturally as he grips the sides of my shorts, pulling them down, and I’m completely naked in front of him.

Although, it’s not the first time, it is the first time that I feel this exposed in front of him. I typically hide, cover myself up a little more, but the desperation in his eyes, the lust dripping from every ounce of his body, has my confidence skyrocketing.

“It’s my turn,” he growls.