Page 34 of From the Embers

“Oh, shoot, the cloakroom,” I mutter, hunting around for my ticket. When I find it, Denver plucks it from my hands and goes to retrieve it. A few moments later, he’s wrapping my black shawl around my neck and he takes my hand again.

We step out into the chilly air and he wraps an arm around my shoulder. “I’m a few blocks away. You’re okay with walking?”

I nod, unable to form words.

We barely speak. The air is crisp and on any other night, I’d be awakened to what I’m doing. But right now? I don’t care. I want Denver. I want to be under him when he pistons me with his hips and his cock. I’ve dreamed about this moment, never really believing that it would happen.

“Adi?” he says when we stop in front of a fancy looking apartment block. “You don’t have to do this. That dance was sexy as fuck, and I admit I was jealous⁠—”

“I’m gonna be blunt, D, so buckle up. I want you to fuck me, plain and simple. Hard, fast, slow, up against the wall, I don’t care, but I want you. I’ve never wanted anyone so bad.”

His eyes scorch as he bends to kiss me again.

I don’t remember how we made it inside, if we rode the elevator, or how we get into his apartment, but the second we’re in there, he pushes me up against the wall and his hands brace either side of my head.

“Now, we need to talk about this slutty dress, baby girl, and how fucking hot you look in it.”

I smirk, my eyes twinkling under his observation. “Let’s talk about how hot I look out of it, hot shot.”

He grins. “Your wish is my command.”

eleven

Denver

The glorious woman in front of me is so fucking stunning. I was still a little undecided if I should come or not, yet here I am.

I knew going to this club would result in what is about to happen right now. What I didn’t expect is how mouth-watering Adi looks out on the dance floor.

I told myself I’d go tonight, but only to make sure she was safe. To watch over her, just as Daryl had asked me to. I take everything I do seriously, but this? This is taking things to a whole new level.

When I saw how those men were looking at her, trying to dance with her, touch what’s mine, I saw red. My Red.

She’s goregous no matter what she’s wearing, hell, she’d look fantastic in a brown paper bag, but her dress, it should be fucking illegal.

“You think you can wear this dress and expect me to keep my hands to myself?” I mutter as she curls her hands in my hair and I press up against her. She’s so damn soft and warm, exquisite.

Her hands squeeze my biceps and I groan at her touch.

She smiles against my mouth. “I wore it with you in mind.”

“Did you now?”

“What did you call it? A slutty little dress?”

“You’ll have to forgive me. Sometimes my mouth runs away with me when I’m emblazoned by a beautiful woman.”

“I like being a slut for you,” she mumbles as we kiss once more.

I want to touch her, really I do, but consent is key, and this is Adelaide, not some chick I picked up in a bar.

As if sensing my dilemma, she says, “Hands on me, D. This won’t work if you continue to grope the wall.”

I smile against her soft lips. She’s a cheeky little thing, too. I grind my cock into her lower stomach and she gasps. “You feel that, baby girl?”

She nods, biting her lower lip. “Y-yes.”

“That’s how hard I am after I watched you on the dance floor.” I cup her tits. They don’t even fit into my hands. How fucking glorious. I lean down, pressing my mouth against one nipple through the fabric of her dress. “No bra, beautiful?”