Read Online Stoking the Embers (New Adult Romantic Suspense): The Complete Series by Leslie Johnson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Leslie Johnson
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his rhythm, in and out, deep and hard and then soft and slow. I’m helpless, at his mercy and my fingers try to find a grip, there is none, the hot steel resisting my attempts.
I feel his weight now, his front on my back as he leans over me, his breath hot on my ear. He pulls a lobe into his mouth, plunges a tongue inside, to the same rhythm of his cock. His hands find mine and our fingers entwine. I hold on, pushing my hips back to meet his thrusts, and feel his teeth graze my shoulder. He takes a bite of my flesh, nibbles but never stops his movement. My eyes flutter closed, as if the task of keeping them open is too much. All blood flow, all reason is centered to where our bodies join.
“Yes.” Pleasure pain, the perfect combination. He sinks his teeth into the side of my neck and I cry out. “Too much.” But it’s not. I revel in the sensations and silently will him to bite me again.
He does and endorphins flow, sparking another orgasm. I’m going to come, I feel the rush, the primal clenching of my insides as my desire crescendos.
He growls in my ears, pounding into me. I find the strength to open my eyes, my mouth opening behind them in a scream so silent I wonder if I’ve been plunged into a vacuum.
His hand. It’s no longer his hand grasping mine. This one is silver haired and clawed, the nails piercing my palm. It’s the wolf behind me, I realize as teeth sink into my shoulder. I scream again, another silent wailing. The beast snarls and…
The strobe flash awakens me from my dream. Or was it a nightmare. I’m not sure.
Dazed, I look for the source of the light, the source of the sound. It’s my phone. It’s four-forty-five in the morning. Oh shit, did I forget to set the alarm last night? Is this Ken texting me, reminding about breakfast?
I can hardly see the message, the brightness of the screen is like a spotlight, but I make out the words. Not Ken. A shiver slides down my spine.
Jerome.
“Don’t want to miss your breakfast with your new lover boy…”
The shiver turns into ice. How does he know I’m meeting him this morning? Ken said he saw Jerome leaving the apartment. Did he come back? Spy on us? How?
Sometimes I leave the window open, especially when the air conditioning messes with my sinuses. But not last night, it was too hot. Plus, I’d barely been home when Jerome had shown up unexpectedly and then on his heels was Ken. No, the window wasn’t opened, I’m sure of it.
So how does he know? Before I have time to think about it more, my phone flashes again.
“Better hurry.”
I want to text him back, tell him to fuck himself. I don’t. Better to ignore than engage. I hope.
Dragging myself out of the warmth of my blanket, I get in gear. There’s no time to primp, almost not enough to shower. I pull my hair into a wet messy bun, toss on some roomy khakis and a t-shirt. A swipe of mascara and lip gloss and I’m out of time.
I pause at my front door, suddenly afraid, imagining Jerome outside my door. I raise onto my toes, wincing as my sore one takes my weight and carefully inspect the outside landing. It’s clear.
Holding my breath, I’m pissed that Jerome still controls me like this. He may not be physically here, but he’s calling the shots. With a shot of courage, I swing the door all the way open and step outside. No one.
Closing and locking it behind me, I try looking into my peephole from the other side. Nothing. I can’t see anything so even if he was spying at the door, he surely didn’t see our kiss. Not that I should care; we’ve broken up. I just can’t shake the feeling he’s going to be a pain in my ass for a long time.
When I arrive at the Pancake Palace, I see Ken already waiting inside. He comes up to me and plants a big kiss on my cheek. I lean into his warmth, the strength of his arms around me. He smells so good. I hear him breathe me in too.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he says and lets me go. “Hungry?”
“For pancakes? All day, every
I feel his weight now, his front on my back as he leans over me, his breath hot on my ear. He pulls a lobe into his mouth, plunges a tongue inside, to the same rhythm of his cock. His hands find mine and our fingers entwine. I hold on, pushing my hips back to meet his thrusts, and feel his teeth graze my shoulder. He takes a bite of my flesh, nibbles but never stops his movement. My eyes flutter closed, as if the task of keeping them open is too much. All blood flow, all reason is centered to where our bodies join.
“Yes.” Pleasure pain, the perfect combination. He sinks his teeth into the side of my neck and I cry out. “Too much.” But it’s not. I revel in the sensations and silently will him to bite me again.
He does and endorphins flow, sparking another orgasm. I’m going to come, I feel the rush, the primal clenching of my insides as my desire crescendos.
He growls in my ears, pounding into me. I find the strength to open my eyes, my mouth opening behind them in a scream so silent I wonder if I’ve been plunged into a vacuum.
His hand. It’s no longer his hand grasping mine. This one is silver haired and clawed, the nails piercing my palm. It’s the wolf behind me, I realize as teeth sink into my shoulder. I scream again, another silent wailing. The beast snarls and…
The strobe flash awakens me from my dream. Or was it a nightmare. I’m not sure.
Dazed, I look for the source of the light, the source of the sound. It’s my phone. It’s four-forty-five in the morning. Oh shit, did I forget to set the alarm last night? Is this Ken texting me, reminding about breakfast?
I can hardly see the message, the brightness of the screen is like a spotlight, but I make out the words. Not Ken. A shiver slides down my spine.
Jerome.
“Don’t want to miss your breakfast with your new lover boy…”
The shiver turns into ice. How does he know I’m meeting him this morning? Ken said he saw Jerome leaving the apartment. Did he come back? Spy on us? How?
Sometimes I leave the window open, especially when the air conditioning messes with my sinuses. But not last night, it was too hot. Plus, I’d barely been home when Jerome had shown up unexpectedly and then on his heels was Ken. No, the window wasn’t opened, I’m sure of it.
So how does he know? Before I have time to think about it more, my phone flashes again.
“Better hurry.”
I want to text him back, tell him to fuck himself. I don’t. Better to ignore than engage. I hope.
Dragging myself out of the warmth of my blanket, I get in gear. There’s no time to primp, almost not enough to shower. I pull my hair into a wet messy bun, toss on some roomy khakis and a t-shirt. A swipe of mascara and lip gloss and I’m out of time.
I pause at my front door, suddenly afraid, imagining Jerome outside my door. I raise onto my toes, wincing as my sore one takes my weight and carefully inspect the outside landing. It’s clear.
Holding my breath, I’m pissed that Jerome still controls me like this. He may not be physically here, but he’s calling the shots. With a shot of courage, I swing the door all the way open and step outside. No one.
Closing and locking it behind me, I try looking into my peephole from the other side. Nothing. I can’t see anything so even if he was spying at the door, he surely didn’t see our kiss. Not that I should care; we’ve broken up. I just can’t shake the feeling he’s going to be a pain in my ass for a long time.
When I arrive at the Pancake Palace, I see Ken already waiting inside. He comes up to me and plants a big kiss on my cheek. I lean into his warmth, the strength of his arms around me. He smells so good. I hear him breathe me in too.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he says and lets me go. “Hungry?”
“For pancakes? All day, every
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