One Empire Night

by Autumn Jones Lake

  I skip up the stairs, already picturing sliding on the dress and twisting and teasing him in time to some sexy music.

  There’s an unfamiliar pinkish glow coming from our bedroom and I stop dead when I cross the threshold.

  The pinkest, most perfect Christmas tree stands in our room, framed by the picture window that faces our backyard. My jaw drops and I blink a few times.

  I sense, more than hear, Marcel enter the room behind me. His hands land on my hips and he molds himself against my back. He leans in and brushes a kiss on my cheek. “Do you like it?” he asks in a low voice.

  Words. For a few seconds I can’t come up with any. “I really do. You must think I’m an idiot, but I always wanted…” I huff out a breath. “Thank you.”

  “I didn’t have time to do more than unpack it and plug it in.” He gestures to a few bags on the floor next to the tree. “I bought some decorations—all pink—but we can—”

  “It’s perfect.” I glance at the tree again, my vision swimming. “You didn’t have to get such a big tree. I only meant a little tabletop one.”

  “Nope. My girl wants a hot-pink Christmas tree, she’s going to have the biggest one I can find.”

  “We don’t have to keep it in the bedroom. Unless you don’t—”

  “Sunshine, I’m more than man enough to have a pink tree any place I want in my house.” He grips my chin, forcing me to look at him. “I put it in our bedroom so you can wake up every morning and remember there’s nothing your man won’t do to make you happy.”

  Every day we’ve been together he makes me fall more and more in love with him.

  Sliding my arms around his neck, I reach up and kiss along his jaw. “Are you ready for your lap dance?”

  “Can I see your dress?” he counters.

  “I thought the purpose of the lap dance was for my clothes to come off.”

  “Go put it on for me.”

  I nudge and push him into the big, comfy armchair in the corner of our bedroom. Right next to the tree.

  He falls into the chair with a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Leaning over, I push his legs apart and lean down. “Wait here like a good boy.”

  He twists his lips into a smirk and sits back.

  Slowly backing away, I make my way to the closet and take out the dress. Changing right in front of him isn’t exactly sexy, so I take it into the bathroom and close the door.

  Soft music fills the bedroom and my stomach flutters with anticipation.

  I really did buy this dress with the party in mind. Where else do I have to wear a short, skin-tight velvet dress with cut-outs at the sides and midriff? It’s a deep, rich wine color and has three-quarter sleeves to balance all the exposed skin in the middle. I planned to wear it with lacy stockings and knee-high boots, but for now, I leave my feet bare. I pull my hair into a messy knot on the top of my head and dab on a dark wine-red lipstick that drives Marcel nuts every time I wear it.

  Before opening the door, I flick the bathroom light off.

  Marcel’s still sitting in the chair and he focuses all of his attention on me standing in the doorway.

  With one hand, he beckons me closer. “Come show me.”

  While my body yearns to rush over the second he asks, I take my time, enjoying the weight of his appreciative gaze.

  “Stunning,” he murmurs.

  Not the “hot” I expected. Even better.

  When I’m about five feet away, I slow my movements, stopping to pose and touch myself as if that’s all I plan to do.

  “Closer,” he demands. “I want to touch.”

  “No touching.”

  He lets out a rumbling chuckle. “We’ll see.”

  I move closer, my steps and movements following the rhythm of the music he chose. When I’m within grabbing distance, he sits forward and fits his hands around my waist, pulling me between his legs. “You’re so pretty. I have to take you out.”

  “Do you want your dance first?” I ask, turning in his hold and arching my back, shaking my butt in his face. His hands slide the material of my dress up to my hips and he sinks his teeth into one ass cheek, biting only enough to tease.

  I push the dress into place as a song with a quicker, sensual beat plays. Slowly, I turn, working my hips in time with the melody, trailing my fingertips up my sides and under my breasts.

  “Nice,” he says, sitting back.

  On the next slide down, I gather the dress in my hands and drag it up and over my head.

  Everything Charlotte does turns me on.

  Walks into the room?

  Done.

  At the stove making dinner?

  We’ve burned a few meals when I couldn’t wait to have her.

  But this? Playfully dancing for me. The barely there thong. The dark red dress. The lipstick. That fucking lipstick—it’s called blood moon or unicorn blood, something silly with blood in the name, which is appropriate because every time she wears it, all my blood rushes to my cock.

  While she twists and turns in front of me, I run my big, rough hands up her smooth bare thighs, settling at her waist to turn her around. Again, I slide my hands over her hips, her ass and down her legs. She’s all silky skin and thin strips of black lace.

  Hooking my thumbs in the straps of her thong, I slide it down her legs and throw it toward the bed. “You’ll wear that for me later.”

  “Okay,” she whispers. Her knees weaken and I grip her tighter, pulling her to me and resting my forehead against her stomach. Her fingers run through my hair and down my back. She’s still gently swaying her hips to the music and I smile against her skin.

  With her fingers on my shoulders, she pushes me back. “Take your cock out.”

  “Take your bra off.”

  “This isn’t a negotiation.”

  Charlotte knows exactly who she’s playing with and how to play me. The more she tries ordering me around, the harder I’m going to fuck her.

  I ease back in the chair and slowly unbuckle my belt. Giving her as good a show as she’s given me. Balancing her hands on my legs, she lowers herself to the floor—not usually where I like her, but I’m letting her run the show—for now. I’m so hard, my cock springs free and she wastes no time wrapping her hand around me. Love her touch—gentle but possessive as hell. I groan and sit back as her other hand works open my jeans even more. She slides her hand inside, cradling my balls with the perfect amount of pressure.

  “Good?” she asks.

  “Fuck yes,” I manage to answer even though my voice is tight from wanting her.

  Her hand strokes in a lazy way—loose and slow.

  A low moan of agonized pleasure rumbles out of me the second her lips close over my cock. “Fuck. All the way. I want that lipstick decorating my cock when you’re done.”

  “Mmm,” she hums, the sound vibrating through me.

  Stars gather at the edges of my vision as she takes me all the way down and sucks her way back. “Fuck,” I breathe out.

  Every muscle in my body clenches hard but I’m not ready to rush to the finish. I touch the back of her head and she moans a little louder. My other hand settles on her shoulder.

  The desire to have every part of her seeps into me. Without thinking, I wrap my hand around her ponytail and tug her off.

  Her tongue darts out, licking her bottom lip. Dark red rings my cock, and her lipstick’s smeared. I reach out and wipe her cheek with my thumb. “Good job.”

  “Why’d you stop me?”

  Words can’t explain it, so I cradle her face with my hands and kiss her. When that’s not enough, I pull her up, lifting her and carrying her to the bed where we roll onto the soft blankets together. I have to touch her everywhere. She sits up for me to work her bra off and then I’m filling my hands with her full breasts. Her tongue slides against mine while her fingers tease my shirt up over my head. I sit up and toss my shirt and push my jeans the rest of the way off. Then I’m back on top of her pressing rough kisses to her mouth, nipping at her n
eck. “I love you,” I mumble, tasting more of her skin.

  She places her hands on my cheeks, urging me to look in her eyes. “I love you too.” Her tone is serious, but there’s a frisky gleam in her eyes. “But don’t let that stop you from fucking me hard.”

  With that, she rolls over and attempts to wriggle away.

  Crawling over her, I pin her down with my thighs and bodyweight. “Where do you think you’re going?” I growl against her neck.

  She buries her face in the comforter to muffle her laughter. Her hips wiggle and she tries to raise her ass. Normally, I’d make her wait, draw this out, but I can’t.

  “Spread those legs, bad girl.”

  She fists her hands in the comforter, dragging it toward us. Her hips shift and I slide the head of my cock against her and suck in a deep breath.

  “Fuck, you feel good.”

  She sighs and arches her back. I wrap my arm around her waist, yanking her to me and push inside her with one, long rough shove.

  I wrap my hand in her hair, pulling her head up. No more hiding and teasing. She shrieks and braces herself on her elbows, pushing back against me. “More.”

  “You want more?” I ask, taunting her with a gentle stroke. “More what?”

  “Harder.”

  I pull back, almost all the way, then push inside a little faster. “Like that?”

  Tired of my teasing, she groans and raises up to hands and knees, working herself back and forth on my cock. My fingers slip through her hair, pulling the elastic free, so it’s wild and messy.

  I clasp her hips, stopping her movements and pull out, flipping her over. She blinks up at me, but doesn’t protest. Then I’m covering her with my body. She’s slick and soft and so damn hot when I sink inside her. “You want it rough tonight, Sunshine.”

  It’s a statement, not a question and I punctuate it with a wicked roll of my hips. Her teeth tug at her bottom lip and she nods.

  Our eyes lock and the connection ratchets up my pleasure to a whole new level.

  Gently, I press my thumb and fingers against the pulse points at the sides of her neck. My quick, furious thrusts slow as I watch every flutter of her lashes. “Oh, oh, oh,” she gasps, her body writhing under me.

  Only when she’s on the brink do I let go. She comes so hard, back arching, lips parted, relentless cries of pleasure.

  Done. My skin sizzles and a jolt of heat rocks down my spine. “Coming,” I warn and she murmurs encouragement. I curse one last time before shooting hard inside her.

  In our bed. Surrounded by the glow from our pink tree.

  Eight

  After dinner, Blake assures my brother we can handle getting our tree to Rock and Hope’s house on our own.

  I fling my arms around Marcel for a big hug. “Thank you so much for everything.”

  He squeezes me back just as hard. “You bet, kid.”

  Everyone ends up walking outside with us and thankfully, Alexa had fallen asleep again after dinner or she’d probably have a hissy fit when we leave all the lights behind.

  “I can’t believe you guys did all that,” I say as we glide down the driveway. I’m still in awe of all the work my brother put into the decorations.

  Murphy glances over. “He wanted to surprise you.”

  “Well, he did.” I think over how much has changed in the last few months and my heart’s ready to burst. “I’m so happy he’s happy. He has his own place and just seems so…at peace. Charlotte’s good for him.”

  “She is,” he agrees.

  “I bet some of the guys think he’s moving too fast, but I’m glad he didn’t screw around. I hope they set a date soon.”

  “You haven’t set a date yet.”

  “That’s different,” I say, staring out the window.

  “Hey.” Blake reaches over and rubs my leg. “What’re you thinking about?”

  “Our wedding. Let’s get married next summer. After graduation.”

  He glances over and raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? Are you sure you’re on schedule to finish next May?”

  “Pretty sure.” I glance in the backseat and reach out to fix Alexa’s blanket. “She should be big enough to be part of our wedding.”

  Blake catches my hand and pulls it to his mouth, kissing my open palm. “I like the sound of that,” he says softly.

  It’s a short ride to the club’s property and we’re pulling in front of the clubhouse a few minutes later.

  “I’m going to see if someone’s around to help us with the tree,” Blake says.

  I clap my hand over my mouth. “Shoot. Everyone’s probably at the party.”

  “Nah, someone’s always around.”

  “Blake,” I call out before he shuts his door. “I want to come inside with you.”

  Without answering, he unbuckles Alexa and picks her up. She fusses but settles once she’s in his arms. “What do you need?” he asks as he meets me on the other side of the truck.

  “I still have some boxes stored in Hope’s closet upstairs. A few ornaments for the tree might be in there.”

  He hesitates for a second before answering. “Okay.”

  Inside, we run into Sparky and Stash on their way to the party at Crystal Ball. “We can help with that,” Sparky says, running to the closet to grab a pair of gloves.

  Blake hands me a key for upstairs. “Go ahead. I’ll come meet you and carry over whatever you need when we’re done.”

  “Thank you.”

  Alexa’s fully awake now and I have to stop in the bathroom for a diaper change before heading upstairs. It’s oddly quiet. Not a biker or bunny in sight. Rock and Hope’s old room is stuffy when I enter, so I open a few windows, making a mental note to close them before I leave.

  Now that she’s clean and had some snooze time, Alexa’s eager to explore the new space.

  “You spent lots of time here when you were itty bitty,” I tell her. She giggle-gurgles and continues her investigation.

  Keeping an eye on her while I pull down the boxes I want isn’t easy, but once I’m sitting on the floor, she makes her way back to me. Curious about what I’m up to.

  Ignoring one box in particular, I pry open another that I think is most likely to contain the ornaments I’m after. I’ve bounced around to so many different places in the last few years, that I haven’t seen some of these things in a while. Some are unimportant papers from high school that I threw in the box, because I packed them in a hurry. I set those aside to toss in the trash later and Alexa grabs for them, flinging the pages in the air.

  “Having fun making a mess?” I tease, scooping her up and settling her in my lap. “Look, Uncle Marcel made these when he was younger.” I hold one of the four ornaments up watching the sparkles shift and twirl from the movement. The glitter-filled globes are clear plastic, so thankfully they’re not in danger of breaking when Alexa bats at them with her little hands. They’re the product of an after-school “young entrepreneur” program Marcel was part of during his high school days. The class made and sold these ornaments, but Marcel said he saved the best ones for me and I’ve always kept them in a special place, hoping to have my own tree to put them on one day.

  “Twee!” Alexa yells.

  “Yup, we’re going to put these on our tree.”

  The door opens, light from the hallway spilling into the room. “Find what you wanted?” Blake asks, leaving the door open.

  I hold one of the ornaments out to him and he smiles. “I remember those.”

  “Da, da, da,” Alexa screeches, reaching for Blake.

  “Are you helping mommy or making a mess?” he asks, scooping her up and nodding at the papers.

  Alexa glances down. “Mess.”

  “Well, at least she’s honest,” I joke.

  Blake eyes the boxes in front of me. “Are these all coming back with us tonight?”

  “No. Just this one. We don’t have a lot of space right now. The others can wait until we move into our house.”

  His gaze roams to the b
ox I pushed to the side earlier.

  “There’s nothing Christmas-y in that one,” I say, stopping Blake from asking about the most embarrassing one of all.

  A guilty twist to his mouth gives me pause.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Nothing. Are you sure you don’t want it?”

  “I do, but I can’t unpack it right now.” And not just because we don’t have our own place yet.

  He’s still staring at me and I can’t take the scrutiny. I pick myself up from the floor and dust off my jeans. The box of ornaments goes on the shelf next to me so I don’t forget to take them with us. And I start returning the others to the closet.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  His gaze strays to the box again, then back to me.

  The box that’s full of years of memories with Blake. Figurines he gave me for my birthdays, ticket stubs, seashells, postcards, notes, all of it rests inside that brown cardboard. Younger Heidi kept every precious memory she could hold onto.

  It finally occurs to me that I stored that box here a while ago. Back when Murphy still lived a few doors down and I was headed all the way in Alaska.

  “Did you look through my stuff?” I ask quietly.

  He meets my eyes and doesn’t so much as flinch. “I missed you.”

  Tears burn and threaten to fall, but I take a deep breath, willing them away. If he saw all of those things, he knows what a silly girl I was. But he should also know how much I’ve always loved him. “And?”

  “I love you.”

  I take a step closer and he holds out his free arm, pulling me against him. Alexa waves her arms and squeals, touching both of our faces with her fingers.

  Blake leans down and brushes a soft, warm kiss against my lips.

  “Come on. Let’s go see the tree.” He ruffles Alexa’s hair. “Want to put lights on the tree?”

  “Twee!”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “No!”

  I burst out laughing.

  After the boxes are put away. I grab the ornaments and take Blake’s free hand.

  “It’s so quiet with everyone out,” I comment as we pass the closed doors to the brothers’ rooms.