Saving Emmy by Rayne Lewis

Chapter 21

Her legs quaked. Her breasts rose and fell with every shuddered breath. A glistening sheen of sweat misted across her body. Her nipples were tight. She felt them pull as they puckered. His beard tickled the swells of her breasts while his luscious lips caressed and ravished them, bringing a likeable pain to the tips as he bit and nibbled on them, pulling them just beyond the point of pain. The wetness left behind glinted in the soft light. She watched the taut nubs redden as the blood rushed back to each battered tip. Her back arched as she silently begged for more. More of what, she wasn’t sure. Just, more.

His tongue traced a river from the swollen bite he placed on the crest of her throat, down the curve of her neck, and through the valley of her breasts. He nipped and kissed the farther he trailed. A suck on her navel brought a shiver, then his tongue dipped inside, circling the hollow from inside. He traced lower, his tongue leaving a wake of fire, leaving nothing untouched, unscorched, unscathed. He burned across her body. Lower. Lower. Yes, lower. He disappeared.

The pull of his teeth across her sensitive lips brought a moan from deep in her throat. A cry that went unheeded. She heard his intake of breath as he inhaled her scent, her arousal doubling at the thought of him between her thighs. His tongue was sinful and it was torturous. Lashing and licking, plundering her clit while she rode the precipice.

She couldn’t hold on any longer, although she wanted to hold out, make this glory last all night. The tightening and throbbing was too much to hold back. She grasped the sheet, twisting it in her fists, willing him to push deeper. The world went silent; only her panting and the rush of her heartbeat could be heard. It was a symphony, building into a crescendo. She couldn't hold it. His face buried deeper. Her hands tangling in his all-too-short hair. She wanted to cry out but her voice was lost as her breath hitched.

Oh, God. Oh, God.His fingers pushed in to the hilt, and she—

The alarm blared from her phone.

She was panting, gasping for air. She shuddered, and breathed in staccato. She squeezed her thighs together. Bare. Empty. Desolate. Panties...drenched.

She silenced the alarm wanting ten more minutes of sleep. Ten more minutes of dreams. Wanting ten more minutes of Eli.

Errg!She flopped back to the mattress wanting to crush the phone or chuck it across the room, but she withheld her anger and set it on her bedside.

Fuck!Just, fuck!

Her core pulsed as she lay sprawled out in bed. Grinding and gripping. Trying to find something to leech on to and release the pressure deep within. Fuck! That’s right...Fuck! Fuck Maven. Fuck Mary. And fuck King. They were dead to her. This was all their fault. Every. Thing. Their. Fault. F.M.L.

Throughout the night, Ember lay in bed, tossing and turning, wrestling with the blankets, and finally surrendering and throwing the covers back. Ahhh! She let out a frustrated scream. She lay sprawled like a starfish, staring up at the ceiling. The room was dark but she could see shadows cast by the moonlight spilling through the window. Damn! She’d checked her phone. 3:25. Ugh! Five hours! Five hours she’d been struggling to get to sleep. She’d gone to the kitchen to get a glass of milk. Not warm milk, ewww, but a glass of thick, rich, whole milk. Unhealthy. Saturated fat. Delicious. Having something comforting in her belly always put her to sleep.

She stood in the silence looking out the kitchen window into the darkness and replayed the day’s events. Maven and Mary conspiring; seeing things that obviously didn’t exist. What the fuck! These were their dreams in her head. Yes, Maven and Mary were to blame. She threw King in there, too, just for good measure. Her mind was jumbled, swirling with the noise of the evening's gathering. They were all crazy. Insane. They were seeing things that simply weren’t there and now they had her dreaming things from their imaginations.

Eli, in love with me?She let out a huff of exasperation. Were they mad? That's what it was. Her whole circle of friends had gone insane, collectively. She couldn’t kick Mary’s ass because she was with child, and it would be a futile attempt to toe with King. But, she was going to kill Maven!

Now it was morning and she was even crankier than last night. Eli? In love with me? It was the craziest thing she could imagine. They were friends. Right? Just really good friends? Best friends...yup, best friends. Eli was her...her what? Her...rock. Her...confidant. Her life-long friend. Councilor. Mentor. Shelter. Shield.

Ugh!

But, that dream. Oooh, that dream. It was a figment of her subconscious psyche.

But, would it feel like that with him? With his hands roaming my body? And, oh, the things he could do with his mouth.Her breathing increased. Oh, his writhing body over mine. The quaking in his breath fanning across my breasts. My nipple pulled taught between his teeth. The pain. The pleasure.

She pushed aside the soaked gusset of her silk panties and caressed the smooth outer shell of her lips. Her fingers slid across the moistened fold to the center of her core. The heat from her dream was still there. She eased the tip of her finger into her sheath. Warm. Wet. Silkiness. She pulsed once, feeling the muscles tense around her lone finger. She pushed it deeper, just as “dream” Eli did. Her breath hitched when she curled her finger. Oh! Her thumb caught the nub of her swollen clit and a zing welled deep within, curling her toes. Pushing another finger into her wetness, she tightened. And pulsed. Then clenched again and again. She undulated her hips, writhing as her breathing turned into rapid pants. Her mouth was dry; her core was not. She pushed and curled her fingers, delving deeper in rhythm and pulling them out to the shallow. Eli. She pumped faster. Oh, Eli. She heard his muffled pants as he bit into her thigh. Eli...Eli…

“Eli!”

Her scream broke her from her erotica. Her breasts heaved and her lungs burned, starved of oxygen as she held her breath, pushing herself over the edge, past the point of no return.

Oh, God. Have mercy.

She was screwed. Not just by her fingers. She was screwed because Eli was no longer her friend. He was the focus of her wildest ride. Eli. She had never orgasmed like that in her life. In fact, she’d never orgasmed. Her mini clitoral vibrator tried. Yes, Clyde tried, but never delivered.

She reached between her thighs and, yup...she’d orgasmed. She gushed and leaked. She let loose. Her inner thighs were coated and the sheet beneath her was wet. Really wet. Like, Niagara Falls wet.

Fuck!

She was screwed.

* * *

After she cleaned and showered, Ember turned the dial to cold, needing the chilliest shower in the history of showers. Yet it did nothing to squelch the burning within her, only bringing shivers as the showerhead dumped freezing water over her body. It was no use. She slapped the knob harder than necessary, bringing the unsuccessful icy downpour to an end. Ember’s teeth chattered. Hair wrapped in a towel, turban style, she stood facing her reflection in the full-length mirror. She turned her body this way and that, examining it from different angles. Her breasts were full and sat high on her chest. They didn’t sag or part but sat close together, making natural cleavage even without a bra. She guessed they were nice boobs. She had small areolas and dusky pink nipples, contrasting against her ivory skin. She turned to see her ass, an ass she usually thought was unappealing. In her jeans it looked underwhelming. But, bare, it had an appealing curve to it, rounding nicely to the flare of her hips down from her narrow waist. It was nothing Kim Kardashian would write home about, but she thought it was nice. Then again, she was nothing to write home about.

But, it was her body. Her. Body.

Would Eli like her body?

Stop! What the hell’s wrong with you? With everybody?She shook her head hoping to clear it of the one thing she couldn’t stop thinking about. Eli.

Fed up with the thoughts, like a petulant child she stomped her way to her bedroom, stopping at her dresser and reaching into her underwear drawer. Utilitarian underwear. Some would go as far as to say Granny panties. Ember called them comfortable. She pulled out a pair with tiny windmill prints. Whimsical. Cute.

Childish?

She frowned at the thought and studied the underwear, contemplating comfort verses sexy. Ember would never consider herself sexy. She was...Ember. Plain girl. Smart girl. Sexy siren?

Nope.

But, her dream came back to her. Oh, that dream. Inhaling, she watched the swell of her bare breast rise. Not thinking the better of it, she fingered her nipple, plucking it as Dream Eli had. Ooh, the tingle made her nipple erect. She pinched just the tip and the thought of Dream Eli, with it gritted between his teeth, sent shivers down her spine. She pinched harder.

Oh!

Her knees buckled and she caught herself coming out of her stupor.

What the fuck! Get a hold of yourself! What’s come over you? Stop.

Ember brought her hands to her face, growling into the cups of her palms. She’d never thought of Eli as a lover.

God, isn’t that incest or something?

He was like her brother.

She paused, contemplating the situation. Friend Eli was sweet, thoughtful, always there when she needed him. He teased her and tortured her just like a little sister, though they were the same age.

Tortured her.

That thought triggered Dream Eli. Oh, the torture he gave, and she submitted.

Stop!

Maybe she just needed to feel sexy? Just for the day. That could be the answer. All this erotica needed an outlet. She spent her time in jeans, t-shirts and utility boots. She wore the same clothes to the range that she wore outside of work. She strode to her closet. It was a small walk-in—a tiny walk-in if she was truthful—but it was functional. As was her wardrobe. She thumbed through the hangers holding her t-shirts, stopping on her favorite one. It was faded and worn. Comfortable. It had a pair of tattered angel wings and the word REBELS across the wings. A halo sat above the word REBELS, though the font was anything but holy. It had more of a biker vibe, tough, tumbled, yet resilient. On the front left breast the words: REBELS Tattered, Not Battered. She returned it to its spot and pulled out another. It was the same angel wings and halo, but the tag on the front said, REBEL GIRL Resilient. Always in the Fight.

She pulled the hanger from its place and turned to her jeans. They were neatly folded, stacked on a pile. All the same denim blue, some worn and faded a little more than others. Those were the good ones. The ones that were broken in and moved with you. The same jeans. The same t-shirts. The same Ember.

She stared at the jeans...and then at the t-shirt. Today felt different. Did she want to be the same boring girl? Or, did she want to feel as sexy as she did in her dream? She eyed the sundress hanging in the back of the closet. Back in the section of clothes she bought thinking they were cute, but most of the items were crap that Maven convinced her to buy on her many, many forced shopping sprees.

Ember bought her clothes at Walmart or the outdoor and wilderness shops. Clothes made to take a beating. She worked at a gun range for Christ’s sake. Maven thought sequins and cutesy was what Ember should wear. But, almost every item she bought now resided in: Closetville, Land of the Unwanted Garments.

She wouldn’t be at the range today. She had a ton of paperwork and orders to fill, so she’d be working from the office at Hellforce. Jeans and a tee would be efficient, but not necessary.

She stared at the sundress. It was cute. A mostly white dress with sporadic groupings of red and pink blossoms. The chiffon material was light, so the skirt was flowy. The bodice had a V-neck wrap, the material of each breast overlapping at the waist. The shoulder straps were thin so she couldn’t wear a bra, but the dress had built-in cups. It was short, mid-thigh, but not prudish. Ember ran her hand over the delicate fabric. The silkiness played beneath her fingers and the image of the sexy Dream Eli came to mind.

Would she want Dream Eli to be with her every time he felt the material graze her body? The thought exhilarated her. It was just a fantasy. Right? It wasn’t like she wanted the real Eli. And, the real Eli wasn’t even at the office today. He had an appointment, so T would be picking her up. The thought of having the silkiness against her body tantalized her.

Yup, making a final decision, this was what she would wear today.

* * *

Disaster!Her decision-making skills must be lacking. At first, when she slid the dress over her head and it skimmed her body, she felt sexy. Something new and exhilarating. When she went to put on her panties, the ones with the whimsical windmills, she hesitated. She wanted her undies to feel as sexy as the dress. She ditched whimsical and reached to the very back of the drawer. Her fingers hit pay dirt.

She pulled out a lacey, pale pink thong. She hesitated. Can I be daring enough to wear it? Would it be comfortable? She’d always heard of the dreaded thong wedgie. The only reason she even had the thong was of course, Maven. She’d convinced Ember that she needed it. Said every woman should have raunchy delicates. Ember begged to differ, but as usual, Maven’s relentless badgering had Ember buying the damn thing just to end the conversation. Which it did.

But, now...should I wear it? No one would know but her; no one would be the wiser. She wanted to feel sexy. Be sexy. The barely-there lace felt soft on her fingertips. It would probably feel even softer against her skin. Before she lost her courage, she slipped the scant lacy material up her legs. And, waited. She jiggled her hips from side to side waiting to feel the dreaded wedgie. It didn’t come. She even did squats and lunges, bent over and touched her toes, but nothing seemed to wedge.

Huh?She walked back to the en suite bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. Whoa! Who was that looking back at her? Sexy siren! The thought made her giggle, the sound echoing off the walls.

She twisted her body, causing the skirt to swish, to flow carefree, emulating the way she was feeling in her new digs. Her body actually had a shape, something that was hidden by the normal tees and jeans she wore. She had side boob! Her natural cleavage looked sexy in the V-neck, pushed together firmly by the cups of the dress. Her stomach was flat, making the flare of her hips that much more noticeable. An hourglass. Was that always there? She turned her back to the mirror and craned her neck. Damn! She had back! Junk in the trunk. What was the name of the type of ass guys loved? Voluptuous? Well, she had voluptuous. Turning to face the mirror once more she shook her hair out, tousling it in her fingers and let it settle around her face. Her wild, untamed mane was everywhere. Damn, she felt sexy.

* * *

Ember dabbed a bit of perfume behind her ears and on each wrist, a move she’d seen her mom do a million times. Mom always said perfume was for your man, not the masses. Ember hated when women doused themselves. And, it was never pleasant-smelling perfume. It was always musky and rank, the kind that overloaded the senses and made her want to gag. Church Perfume is what her dad called it. The kind little old ladies, whose nostrils were as bad as their eyesight, donned.

She never wore much makeup, which Rhys deemed a mortal sin. Rhys had enough makeup to open her own cosmetics store. She’d shown Ember how to apply it, giving her dark smokey eyes and heavy-handed contour, but it never seemed to turn out the same when she applied it herself. She looked more circus-clown-meets-Alice-Cooper sideshow freak, than cover-model perfect.

Less is more, her mother said. She applied a light pink eyeshadow and a little eyeliner to the upper and lower lid, then added a light stroke of blush and a coat of mascara. She filled in the natural arch of her brow and finished with a lipstick that complimented her hair. Ten minutes later, Voila! She was done. She stood back and admired her handywork. Not bad.

From the depths of her closet, she dug out a pair of white sandals—again, a Maven purchase—and slipped them on. She felt cute as she swished the skirt around her legs, her toenails peeking from the tips of the sandals.

T should be arriving any minute. She couldn't wait to see the shocked expression on his face. Frumpy, practical, boring Ember was now Cinderella.

She heard his truck pull up and raced to the door wanting to shock him before he rang the bell.

She felt damn sexy. Really sexy. That was, until she threw open the door.

Shock and horror met her face-to-face.

Shit. Damn. And, fuck.

Her eyes widened and her body went stiff.

T wasn’t standing on her doorstep.

Eli was.