Embers (Blaze Series Book 3) by Erika Chase

against him, desperate for him
to be inside me again. He obliges and I let out a shuddering moan. My tits sway
with the force of his thrusts.
    Suddenly I’m close to coming and I abandon
what little control is left. I just want him to take me, over and over and over
again. He’s moving raggedly now, all the strength of his hips pouring into his
movements. He swells inside me and I bite my lip; it’s right on the verge of
pain, he’s so big. But it’s the kind of pain I want to feel for the rest of my
life.
    We tip over the edge together and I scream
again, feeling the liquid heat of him shooting inside me even as I lose myself
in the fire that bursts through my core. When I finally collapse on the floor
my legs are shaking and my breath comes like a hurricane.
    He shivers as he draws out of me and
immediately my body feels hollow, like it’s missing something vital. I want him
inside me forever.
    He stands on shaky legs and I haul myself up
to the bed.
    “Wow,” he says, shaking his head. “That was
. . . intense.”
    “Yeah,” I breathe, flopping onto the
mattress. “The best kind of intense I’ve ever felt in my life.”
    He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move a
muscle, but I can feel him grinning in the darkness. He walks across the
bedroom, as always, casual and arrogant in his nakedness. He shrugs on a robe
and pauses by the door.
    “I’m just going to grab us a couple of
drinks,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”
    I lie on the bed, feeling the pleasant
throbbing tingle between my thighs. I casually run a hand down and cup myself,
my body still buzzing from its high.
    I can hear him moving around in the kitchen
and a wicked idea crosses my mind—to go and surprise him, down on my knees.
    I stand, naked. I’m feeling much more
clear-headed now, much more relaxed. But I still manage to stub my toe and I
hiss in pain at the flare of agony in my foot. I turn the light on and see
Gabriel’s bags still neatly by the corner; he must have come straight back here
from cancelling his flight.
    And on the bedside table there’s a
manuscript. My breath catches as I see the title—it’s the new book he’s been
working on. I steal a look at the door. Maybe just a quick peek . . .
    I read the first page. Then the second. My
heart’s plummeting out the bottom of my stomach like an elevator with cut
cables.
     “ If I thought that something else was
another man, I’d almost be offended,” I said. The girl flushed red, her eyes
searching for an escape from his mistake.
    “I’d have to take it out on you,” I said
softly. She gulped, and the blood rushed to her cheeks. I could feel my cock
stiffening. I looked at her body, young and ripe and willing. I knew I was
going to fuck her before midnight. I knew I was going to make her mine, take
her every way a woman could be taken, and leave her desperate for more.
    I start flipping through the pages. It’s all
here. The night we met, the way he found me in the restaurant, even—
    My gut turns as I read the sex scenes.
Jesus, he’s got one hell of a memory.
    His latest readership statistics flash into
my head. Eight million copies for a first release, at least. Eight million
people, reading about me, about my life, about the way I twist and move under
his hands.
    By the time I’ve got my clothes on he’s
walking in, holding a bottle of champagne and two glasses. He starts to say
something, a smile on his face. Then he sees me holding the manuscript and it
drops away. His eyes go guarded, watchful.
    Guilty.
    “Wait,” he says, and that’s when I hurl the
pages at him. A snowstorm of words erupts around him, hundreds of crisp white
pages exploding off his bare chest, his face, his arms.
    “You’re an asshole,” I say, the bitterness
so thick in my voice it almost chokes me. “Now I know how you write such real
books. And Jesus, I hope all the other women whose stories you stole abandoned
you too.”
    And then I’m out the door, ignoring him
calling