Page 32 of Embers in Autumn

Dean

I couldn’t stop smiling. Not through the rest of the concert, not when we slipped back through the velvet-curtained lobby, not even in the car ride home with the cool night air drifting through the cracked window.

Amber sat beside me in her emerald dress, her cheeks still flushed, her lips swollen, and every time I glanced her way, all I could see was the way she’d fallen apart under my hand in that velvet box.

Christ, I’d ruined myself for anyone else.

She kept fidgeting, tugging at her earring, smoothing her dress, refusing to meet my gaze for more than a second. But the way her thighs pressed together, the way her breath caught every time our hands brushed on the console—I knew she was just as wrecked as I was.

By the time we pulled up in front of her bookstore, my self-control was hanging by a thread. I killed the engine, and before either of us said a word, we were out of the car, her keys jangling in her hand as we rushed up the stairs.

We barely made it inside.

The door clicked shut behind us, and I spun her, pressing her back against the wall of the narrow stairwell. My mouth crashed against hers, wild and desperate, all the restraint I’d shown during the concert shattered in an instant.

She moaned into me, her hands clawing at my jacket, pulling me closer, closer. I gripped her hips, pinning her in place, grinding against her like a man starved.

“Fuck, Amber,” I groaned against her lips, kissing her like I was drowning and she was the only thing keeping me alive.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Watching you come apart while an entire hall of people sat twenty feet away—” I bit down on her lip, sucking it between mine until she gasped. “You drive me insane.”

Her nails dug into my shoulders, her legs shifting like she wanted to climb me, take me right there against the wall.

And God help me, I wanted that too.

Amber kissed me hard enough to steal the breath from my lungs, then pushed against my chest. For a second I thought she wanted me to stop, to slow down, but instead she dropped to her knees right there in the stairwell.

Jesus Christ.

The sight of her—emerald dress pooling around her thighs, hair loose from its careful twist, her earrings catching the low light as she looked up at me—nearly buckled my knees. She looked like a goddess, one who’d chosen to kneel in front of me, and my brain went white-hot.

“Amber…” My voice was rough, half a groan, half a plea. My hands braced against the wall behind her as if I could hold myself up, because the only thing running through my mind was *don’t come just from this view.*

She didn’t give me time to think. Her fingers tugged my belt open, slow, deliberate, her eyes locked on mine the whole time. That gaze alone had me pulsing, my cock straining against the zipper she eased down.

When she freed me, I swore under my breath, my head tipping back against the wall. Her soft hand wrapped around me, stroking once, twice, and I was done for—nothing left but raw need and the thought that I’d never seen anything more beautiful than Amber on her knees, owning me completely.

“You’re killing me,” I rasped, looking down at her, at those perfect lips parting as she leaned closer. “You have no idea what you do to me, baby.”

She just smiled, wicked and sweet all at once, before taking me into her mouth.

I groaned, loud and unrestrained, my hand tangling in her hair, not to guide but just to anchor myself, to prove this was real. Heat wrapped around me, her tongue sliding slow, teasing, until my hips jerked forward despite myself.

“Fuck, Amber,” I ground out, watching her, utterly helpless. “Look at you… goddess on her knees, ruining me.”

She hummed around me, and the vibration shot straight through my spine.

Every filthy word I’d ever used before, every thought I’d buried, felt pale compared to the reality of her, of this.

I’d fought fires, dragged men out of burning buildings, faced things that should’ve broken me.

None of it touched the way this woman had me trembling, undone, just by choosing to take control.

All I could think was how much I wanted her, how much I never wanted to let her go.

I nearly lost it right there. Every sound she made, every flick of her tongue had me gripping the wall like it was the only thing keeping me upright.

But just when I was about to unravel, she pulled back, her lips slick, her eyes flashing with heat and mischief. She wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb and rose gracefully to her feet, smoothing the emerald silk back down her thighs.

“Not here,” she whispered, kissing me once—teasing, maddening. “Upstairs.”

I groaned, half in relief, half in frustration, and followed her as she tugged me by the hand up the rest of the stairwell.

Her apartment door swung open, the faint scent of books and candles rushing out, and I barely had time to close it behind us before she shoved me back against it, kissing me with wild hunger.

“Amber…” I rasped against her mouth, my chest heaving.

“Shut up, Dean,” she whispered, tugging at my jacket, stripping me piece by piece. “Tonight, I want to try something… different.”

Different. The word slammed into me like a jolt. She’d almost wrecked me downstairs—what the hell more could she do?

But then she guided me backward toward the bedroom, her hands sure, her eyes blazing. She pushed me down onto the edge of her bed, and for the first time since we’d started this dangerous, beautiful thing, I realized she wasn’t letting me lead.

Her hands pressed against my shoulders, firm, keeping me seated. Then she slipped out of her heels, the emerald dress sliding up her thighs as she straddled me slowly, deliberately, her eyes locked on mine.

“Amber…” My voice cracked, my hands trembling as they hovered at her waist. “What are you—”

Her mouth brushed my ear, her words like fire. “I want to be the one in control tonight. I want to take what I want. How I want it.”

And holy fuck if that didn’t make me harder than I’d ever been.

I let her, every muscle screaming to flip her under me, but I didn’t. I stayed exactly where she wanted me, my chest heaving, as she rolled her hips against mine, the friction making us both moan.

She wasn’t just letting me in—she was claiming me. And the thought of giving myself over to her like this, letting her set the pace, letting her show me what she’d never dared before, was hotter than anything I’d ever imagined.

Her lips brushed mine once more, soft as a sigh, then she pulled back and slid my jacket the rest of the way off. Before I could reach for her, she caught my wrists, her eyes daring.

“Lie back.”

The command was quiet, but it hit me harder than any order barked in the firehouse. My body obeyed before my brain caught up, leaning back against the pillows while she straddled my hips.

She reached for my belt, tugging it free with slow, deliberate precision. The leather hissed as it slid through the loops, and my pulse hammered.

“Amber…” I warned, half desperate, half undone already.

She only smiled, looping the belt around my wrists, tying them together and fastening them against the headboard. Not rough—just secure enough that I couldn’t move without her permission.

Fuck.

She leaned back, her hands running over the front of her emerald dress, her hips still pressing me down.

Then, with slow, teasing fingers, she began to strip.

The straps slid down her shoulders, baring the delicate curve of her collarbone.

The silk puddled lower, inch by inch, until her breasts spilled free, pale and perfect in the low lamplight.

My cock strained against my trousers, throbbing with every second she took her time.

“You’re killing me,” I groaned, tugging against the belt, helpless.

“That’s the point,” she whispered, eyes dark with heat. She pushed the dress down her hips, the fabric sliding like water, leaving her in nothing but lace and firelight. She let me look—just look—while she stood there, every inch of her a goddess I wasn’t allowed to touch.

I swore under my breath, biting back the need to beg. She tilted her head, amused, and slid her panties down slowly, letting them fall to the floor.

When she climbed back onto the bed, straddling me again, her bare skin searing against my suit trousers, I nearly lost it.

And all I could think, staring up at her as she smiled wickedly down at me, was that I’d never in my life been so fucking grateful to give up control.

Her skin pressed to mine, hot and slick, the heat of her thighs bracketing me as she ground down slowly. The belt bit against my wrists when I tried to reach for her, uselessly tugging, and she only smiled like a queen watching her subject squirm.

“Patience,” she whispered, rolling her hips against the ache in my trousers. “You’ll get what you want when I’m ready.”

“Amber,” I rasped, my head falling back against the pillow. “You’re torturing me.”

She leaned down, lips grazing my jaw, her breasts brushing my chest as she whispered in my ear, “Good.” Then she moved back, deliberately slow, her hands roaming down her own body, fingertips tracing every curve as if showing me what I couldn’t touch.

My cock throbbed painfully, and when she finally unbuttoned my shirt, I sucked in a breath.

Her mouth trailed down my chest, hot and wet, teasing every line of muscle before stopping just above my waistband.

She looked up through her lashes, wicked, and tugged my zipper down with agonizing slowness.

“Fuck,” I groaned when she freed me, hard and pulsing in her hand. She stroked once, languid, her thumb brushing the head, and my hips bucked despite myself.

“Stay still,” she murmured, gripping me tighter, “or maybe I’ll keep you like this all night.”

My hands strained against the belt, leather creaking, but I didn’t fight her. Couldn’t. I was hers.