Watching Ember

by J B Reding

  “Let me guess, you haven't slept yet.” I mumble against his lips as I unbuckle his belt and reach my hand inside to pull out his thick cock. He groans when I give it a tug.

  I don’t get to play with him long because the next thing I know both my hands are pinned above my head by one of his and he's thrusting into me. I gasp as he stretches me. He takes advantage and delves his lounge deeper into my mouth. I kiss him back just as ferociously, thrusting my hips to meet his. He rips his mouth from mine and trails kisses along my jaw and to my neck, biting me none to softly while he pounds into me, hitting just the right spot.

  He squeezes my wrists in a silent command to keep them there then lets go to run his hand down my body and to my clit, circling it just how I like.

  A few thrusts later and I'm on the edge. He somehow knows and leans down to bite me once again, sending me to oblivion, him following close behind me.

  He collapses against me, keeping some of his weight on his arms. I take a moment to revel in the pressure of his body pressing into mine. The scare with Dad earlier has made me want to take more time living in the moment. Because you never know what will happen next. I shake myself of the depressing thoughts. There should be no place for negativity after such an amazing orgasm.

  “Good morning.” Nixon murmurs, his face still pressed against my neck.

  “Morning. Have you heard anything about Dad?” I inquire, hoping for some good news.

  “He’s doing well. We can head there in a few hours.” He grumbles, and I can tell he's already half asleep.

  “Okay, let me up.” He rolls off me and I head to the bathroom to take care of business. When I come back out, I find he's rid himself of his clothes and is laying on his stomach, his eyes closed and his back tattoo and ass on full display. “You falling asleep on me?”

  “No. Just resting my eyes.” I walk closer to him and run a finger along his spine causing goose bumps to appear.

  “You sound like my father.” I snicker, which turns into a squeak when he reaches out and snatches my waist, pulling me down to the bed. He tucks me into his side and I settle into him. “Tell me about your tattoo.”

  “It's the Archangel Michael. He's said to bring protection, courage and guidance.” His voice is clearer now, but I can still hear the fatigue in his voice. A part of me wishes I never asked so he could sleep, but a part of me didn't think he'd actually answer.

  “So, everything that embodies you.” I ask, running my hand up and down his stomach in a soothing, rather than sexual, way.

  “Kind of. But I also saw it as a reminder of what I needed to be for you.” He admits and I sigh dreamily. Internally, of course. It’s moments like this, of vulnerability, that makes me fall even further for him.

  “Nixon, you have always been what I, not only needed, but wanted. You don’t have to be anything but what you already are.” I reassure him, imploring him to see what I see in him.

  “I love you.” He whispers, pulling me under him and slipping back inside me slowly.

  “I love you, too.” I sigh as he makes slow love to me.

  Once we both come again, he finally drifts to sleep, laying against my chest. I maneuver the blankets to cover us both and fall back to sleep soon after him.

  It's a few hours later when his phone buzzes on the nightstand, he stirs as I reach for it. I see it's Maddox and answer it. “Hello?”

  “Can I speak with Nixon, please?” He grunts.

  “Yeah, let me just wake him up.” I nudge Nixon’s shoulder and he blinks his eyes open in such a way it shoots a pang of adoration through my chest. “Babe, Maddox is on the phone.”

  As soon as the words leave my mouth, he’s fully coherent and takes the phone. I leave them to it and step into the bathroom to take a shower.

  Nixon joins me, a smile on his face, letting me know that whatever Maddox had to say was good news. Finally. We deserve some good news. “Your dad is doing great and if he continues to progress, he should be able to come home within a day or two.”

  My smile matches his as I throw my arms around him. “Thank god.” I bask in the relief until uncertainty rears its head. “So, what happens when he’s released? Samuel is taken care of and there’re no other threats present at the moment.”

  “I told you when everything was settled, we’d move back to the penthouse. So, that's what we’ll do. Everything else we can worry about when we come to it.” He reassures, brushing a piece of wet hair behind my ear.

  “Sounds perfect.” I lean up and press a kiss to his lips as the shower rains down upon us, cleansing us of the all bullshit we’ve had to go through to get to where we are now.

  23. Wishes

  It’s been several weeks since they released Dad from the hospital. Since then, Nixon and I have moved back into the penthouse. Liz found an apartment not too far from here with some money a grandmother left her that she never touched. I was ecstatic when Liz decided to stay close, but I could tell she was nervous being in the same city as her parents. Hopefully, we won’t have to deal with them for a while. Last I heard, they were on some sort of missionary work over in Africa as a way to boost her dad’s ratings for the reelection that’s coming up soon.

  Anyway, it took a week or so for this place to truly feel like home. I think adding little knickknacks here and there helped. Nixon had the basics, but planned for me to add the finishing touches when I moved in. Guess he got his wish. I tried hard to fit it to both our tastes and to have the space feel equally mine and his. Mostly, I’ve succeeded. It helped that I'm not a girly-girl and don’t have a shit ton of clothes or makeup products strewn all over our room. Honestly, it's been a little too easy living together and a part of me keeps waiting for something to go wrong.

  I step out of the shower one morning and tie a silk robe around me. I towel dry my hair and let it drip down my back as I pad out to the hall and down the stairs to get some coffee.

  Nixon is in his office working, as usual. The man never sleeps. But that's to be expected when you run a criminal empire. Often, I’ll wake up to find the bed empty after falling asleep with him beside me. Sometimes I’ll venture downstairs to his office and have a quickie, other times I’ll bring him some coffee and then go back to sleep.

  We’ve fallen into a routine since living together, and if I'm right, then Nixon should join me within the next few minutes.

  I finish getting my coffee ready and am taking my first sip when he comes up behind me, caging me against the counter. I don't know why, but it’s still one of his favorite things to do. I’m sure it’s because he enjoys having me helpless considering it usually ends with him fucking me against the counter. I swear I will have perpetual bruises on my hips from it too. But I don't mind.

  For some reason, the kitchen has always been our place since we were young. Probably because it was where we spent many nights with our guards down, sharing our wishes and dreams. It doesn’t seem to have changed since we moved here either. I think we’ve fucked in here more times than an actual bed, to be honest.

  “Fancy meeting you here.” Nixon whispers against my neck. Another one of his favorites, one I definitely don't mind.

  “Hmm, yes, so weird.” I giggle. Yeah, that's right, I have turned into one of those giggling girls. Guess that's what love does to you. The old me would roll her eyes if she could see me now.

  “Did you sleep okay?” He asks, lifting a hand off the counter to squeeze my hip.

  I’d been having nightmares about Samuel for the first week after his death. I kept seeing him get shot, but he never died. Shot after shot, he would still be alive, taunting me, laughing at me. Thankfully, as soon as we moved in here, they stopped, but he still asks how I’ve slept every morning.

  “Good. Though, I wish you were there when I woke up.” I lean my head back against his chest, closing my eyes. Both of us soaking in the moment. Nothing sexual, just… comfort.

  “I have a surprise for you.” He finally says. I detect a hint of nerves in his voice. Ever sin
ce we talked about things, the day my Dad ended up in the hospital, he’s been sure of himself in our relationship. So, I'm curious to see what has him worked up.

  “Oh, yeah?” I ask as he takes a step back, keeping his hand on my hip.

  “Close your eyes and turn around.” He murmurs quietly, intimately.

  I do as he says, leaving my coffee on the counter. “Now what?”

  I hear him take a deep breath before he tells me to open them.

  I open my eyes to him holding the teddy bear that Marcus gave me, completely stitched up. A sewn hem down its belly where I’d taken the knife to it. It’s then I see there's something loosely tied around his neck with a red ribbon.

  A ring.

  Tears spring to my eyes as I take a step closer, looking up at Nixon in question.

  He smiles softly and gently pulls the ring free, then setting the bear behind him on the island. He doesn't drop to a knee because Nixon and I are equals. One is not superior to the other, so there's no need to lower himself for me. “You’ve always been a part of my life. Even when we were apart, and things were tense, you were still everything to me. I don't want you to ever not be in my life. So, I’d like to tie you to me forever and make you mine in every way. You, having my ring on your finger, my last name and, one day, my baby inside you, is all I’ve ever wished for. Probably longer than what is considered appropriate, but like I said, you’re mine and you always have been, and I want you to always be. Will you marry me?”

  I nod rapidly, unable to clear the lump in my throat nor stop the tears from running down my cheeks. I stare at the ring in his hands, my own clench in anticipation. But he doesn't make a move to give it to me. I tear my eyes away from the ring and look up at him to see the silent command in his eyes. I smile to myself and say the words he desires. “Yes Nixon, I will marry you.”

  Finally, he grasps my left hand and slides the gorgeous cushion cut ring onto the correct finger. I hold it out in front of me and stare at it in awe until he places his hand under my chin and lifts my face to his. He presses a soft kiss to my lips, one that quickly turns possessive. He backs me into the counter, pushes my coffee cup away and places me on the now vacant spot.

  Stepping between my legs, he unties my robe and pushes it down my arms. He groans as I'm bared to him. “I love that I can always have you naked for me all day. Just waiting for me to take you.”

  I grin, always the caveman. “Why don't you hurry up and take me then?”

  He slams his mouth onto mine and I hastily unbuckle his belt while he plays with my clit. It doesn’t take much to get me ready. Within a few moments, he’s thrusting into me, hurried at first, but then slow. I arch my back and lean my head against the cabinet as his lips latch onto my nipple, one hand squeezing my neglected breast while the other circles my clit.

  He pumps into me faster as he senses my climax, biting my nipple between his teeth as my nails dig into his shoulders. My hips lift to meet his, urging him on.

  We keep at it until we both explode simultaneously, taking a moment to catch our breath before he slides out of me. I keep my eyes closed and revel in the aftershocks.

  “So, when and where do you want to get married?” My eyes snap open at his question.

  I laugh and try to keep a straight face as I answer, “Maybe we should have one of those long engagements.”

  He narrows his eyes and leans back against the island, crossing his arms. “You're shitting me.” He deadpans.

  My facade breaks and I let out a grin. “Yeah. I am.”

  The relief on his face is comical, but it quickly forms into a mock glare. “You little shit.” He lets out a smile. “I want you to have my last name as soon as possible.”

  My own smile fades as I get lost in my head. “It's not too soon, is it?”

  He steps up to me, framing my face in his hands. “Your father told me that when you find something you want, don't wait and don't hesitate. Because you'll regret it. Go after it with everything you have. You're mine and I'm yours. That's all that matters. I’ve known you would be mine since the moment I met you.”

  “You met me as a baby.” I roll my eyes.

  “Exactly. Even as a fucking seven-year-old, I knew that my future was you.” He gifts me with a blinding smile.

  My heart clenches at his sweet words. He doesn't always get it right, but when he does… it's magic.

  I nod my head. “You’re right. Let's do this. Soon. I'm ready to be Mrs. King.”

  “Fuck yeah, you are.” He growls.

  I laugh as he devours my neck and finally my lips and then were right back to where we started, with him owning me.

  Wholly and completely.

  Just as much as I own him.

  Epilogue

  Ember looks gorgeous in her slinky white dress. Three months ago, when I proposed, I would have never guessed how fucking amazing she would look. We decided to wait three months to be sure her dad was ready and for her to get a proper wedding dress, as she put it.

  We decided on an island resort that Liz recommended for a destination wedding. Again, her words, not mine. It's discreet and not a lot of tourists, which I’m eternally grateful for. They also don't blink at ‘security’ having guns. Really, it's just Anton and Maddox that we passed off as security. Both of whom are not thrilled at the moment, staring daggers at their respective women, at least that's what they claim. Doesn't seem like Liz and Mazy have gotten the message since they're both flirting with the same bartender in their matching blood red dresses they wore for the wedding. It’s taken some getting used to calling Mazy by her name rather than her alias. But I think after the time we’ve all shared here, I’ve finally been able to separate the two sides of her.

  It shocked me when Ember asked for Mazy’s address so she could send a wedding invite. I hadn’t realized they not only kept in touch, but also bonded. All three of the girls seem to be close now. I wasn't there for Mazy and Liz’s meeting, but from what I gathered, in my intermittent listening of Embers retelling, they bonded over their hatred for men. Wonderful. I just hope they don't try to drag Ember into their little club

  I watch as Ember makes her way to me from the bathroom and am instantly thrown back to the moment she exited the resort and walked down the make shift isle for our wedding. We had a beach wedding. It was a small ceremony with just the seven of us. Her dad even went as far as to get ordained, which meant a lot to Ember since neither of us are religious.

  “Hey, Husband.” She smiles when she finally reaches me, placing her hand over my heart.

  “Hello, Wife.” I return her smile and lean down to kiss her. It turns a little heated, only breaking when the whistles start. Thankfully, her dad has turned in.

  At least, I thought he did, until I pull away to see him standing in the entrance of the small bar we rented out in the hotel.

  I place a hand on Ember’s hip as he walks towards us, a small smile on his face and a gleam in his eyes. When he reaches us, he hands me an envelope I didn't notice he was holding, too concerned with him seeing me practically maul his little girl.

  “What’s this?” I ask, taking it from his hands. I glance at the front to see my name written in familiar penmanship. I look back at Charles, waiting for an explanation as to why he's handing me an envelope with my father’s handwriting on it.

  “He left this to me with a note asking me to give it to you when you married the love of your life. He wanted you to know what true love was before you read it. I believe you know now.” He looks adoringly at his daughter, who's plastered to my side. He reaches out a hand to her. “Would you care to give this poor old man a dance?”

  She smiles warmly at him. “Of course.”

  She squeezes my arm in silent support before taking his hand and following him out to the empty dance floor. I stare for a moment and wonder what it would be like to still have a parent alive. My mother died when I was two. It was ironically a car accident, too, though it was unrelated to the business. A drunk driver, of a
ll things.

  I shake my head of those depressing thoughts. I have everything I need right heew in this room and then some.

  I walk out to the porch which opens up to the beach and lean against the railing, tearing open the envelope. I pause before pulling out the paper. This could hold the answers I’ve been looking for, but a part of me is scared that it'll just lead to more questions. I’ve learned to deal with never knowing and now that it's in my hands I'm… scared. I’m transformed back into that little boy who only ever wanted my dad's approval.

  However, I learned a long time ago to face my fears. I take a deep breath and pull out the letter.

  Dear Nixon,

  My dear boy, I can only imagine what you have gone through since my passing. I can almost see your anger and heartache now, but I can also see your success and your happiness. Because, if I know you like I think I do, then you will reach every one of your goals in life. If you’re reading this, then that means I am right, and you have hopefully married sweet Ember and realized how powerful true love is.

  I hope this will make what I have to say easier in the sense that you can put yourself in my shoes and try to understand my reasonings. I know you have found the information I have left for you, and I know you have questions. Because my boy was always filled with questions. And you will always be just that… my boy.

  A dried tear drop blurs the last ‘boy’. I wipe away my own stubborn tear which rolls down my cheek as a pair of arms wrap around my middle, giving me the strength I need to keep reading.

  I knew of Samuel's plans to kill me. However, I did not know about his plans to kill Ember and Mary in time, or I would have stopped it. Because Mary was the love of my life, my sun and moon, my everything. I would do anything for her, and in a , I died for her.