Forever Embers (Embers Series Book 3)

by L. S. Pullen

  “Yeah, love you too, man.”

  Grabbing my tea, I make my way upstairs to my office and boot up my computer. I might as well do some work seeing as I’m up, and it’s doubtful Henry will be training tomorrow––or should I say today.

  I start to wonder if Meg and I should have tried to get Clara out sooner. Meg came to me after all, but Clara taking her own life like this and leaving Jacob… I just don’t know.

  My thumb hovers over the screen of my phone. I’m tempted to message Meg, but she’s probably all over the place right now, and I know Henry’s got her back.

  It’s past seven when I finish designing the programme I’ve been working on. I still need to run some tests, but not now. I’m exhausted and pad back to my room and fall onto my bed.

  I find my thoughts wandering to Lottie and can’t hide my smile as I imagine seeing her again and having her underneath me––around me. Maybe I should feel a little guilty that she’s my brother’s best friend’s sister, but I don’t. We didn’t know that when we met––or so I keep telling myself––and we’re both consenting adults. Sure, if we’d all grown up together, maybe this wouldn’t have happened… Hell, perhaps it would.

  But I get the impression Lottie needs this distraction as much as I do. Hell, she’s on the rebound, and I guess I am too. The last thing I’d want is for her to feel used, but we agreed in our early texts about keeping this casual. We’ve been pretty transparent with one another.

  Having casual sex wasn’t something I was looking for. I don’t think I would be doing this with anyone else other than her, but it’s like we met for a reason, and the sex is hot. I can’t remember the last time I got excited about something, or should I say someone, so fuck it, I’m going to enjoy it while I can.

  My phone buzzes, and I groan, reaching out blindly until I find it wedged down the side of the mattress and the bed frame. I rub my eyes and glance at my clock. Eleven a.m.

  Lottie’s name flashes on the caller ID.

  “Hello,” I say, my voice deep with sleep.

  “It’s me. Sorry, were you busy?”

  I shake my head. “No, I just woke up.”

  “I just left Olly’s. He told me about what happened with your friend Clara, and I wanted to check to see if you were all right.”

  My chest tightens a little. “You did?” I ask, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice.

  “Yeah, it’s also why I’m standing at your front door, unsure whether this was a stupid idea or not. Just showing up here like this.”

  “You’re here?”

  I’m already out of my room and heading downstairs to the front door.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry...”

  Swinging the door open, she stops talking. Her phone is tucked between her shoulder and ear while holding a takeaway tray with drinks and a bag in her hands.

  I take them from her and usher her inside. She closes the door behind us and follows me to the kitchen.

  “Give me two secs,” I say and dart up the stairs two at a time. I relieve myself and then brush my teeth before I go back down. She’s still standing where I left her, chewing on her bottom lip.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” I say.

  She looks up, her eyes meeting mine as I step closer and brush the pad of my thumb over her lip, freeing it from her teeth.

  She shrugs. “Well, we’re friends. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “Thank you.”

  I don’t stop to think as I pull her in for a cuddle, and she wraps her arms around my back as my hand goes to the back of her head, cradling her face to my chest, genuinely touched that she would call, let alone show up to check on me.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Charlotte

  I debated reaching out to Ethan after Olly received the news about their friend Clara. Olly didn’t tell me much, just that they all grew up together but drifted apart. He didn’t go into detail, not that I would have expected him to, clearly in shock and maybe even more so seeing as she leaves behind a little boy, Jacob.

  It made me think of Max. Something about death is a trigger, I guess. And I’m no stranger to death. I mean, my biological parents died in a house fire. Of course I was upset, but mainly because me and Olly were separated. We didn’t have the best childhood. It taught me a lesson at a young age––we all die sooner or later, and nothing lasts forever.

  I met Max when we were both in hospital having treatment. Violet was there with him and started talking to me, and the rest is history. It didn’t matter whether he was a boy or a girl because being sick meant we had something in common other kids didn’t understand.

  He was my first everything, and then he died. I still, to this day, don’t understand why I survived, and he didn’t. He was one of the best people I knew. Maybe it’s why I have issues with relationships now, why I was always holding back with Shaun.

  But I see something in Ethan, something that reminds me of Max. Maybe that’s why I ended up at his, wanting to know if he was all right because yes, we’re sleeping together, but we’ve also become friends.

  I clear my throat and step out of his embrace even though I find myself relishing the physical contact in a way I never have before.

  “I thought you might be hungry,” I say. “I know it’s a little early for lunch, but…” I pull out the baguettes from the bag and unwrap them. The heat from his chest as it brushes against my back when he reaches over my head to pull out two plates sends flutters to my core.

  His lips lightly skim the side of my neck, and fuck if I don’t go a little weak in the knees.

  “Thank you,” he says, his voice rumbling through me.

  I wish I had more self-control over my body’s reaction to him. My breathing hitches at the contact, and the chuckle against my skin confirms he’s well aware.

  “I got you a Macchiato,” I say, clearing my throat, pulling a cup free from the tray and handing it to him.

  “You did?”

  I nod. Why does he seem surprised?

  I frown. “Is that okay?” I ask, pretty sure it’s the one he prefers.

  “Yeah, of course. You’re pretty fucking incredible, you know that, right?”

  My face heats from his words as I add baguettes to the plates, finding myself unable to make eye contact.

  “Where do you want me… I mean this. Where do you want this?” I ask, completely fucking flustered as I hold out the plate.

  He tries to cover his laugh, but not without difficulty.

  “Why, Charlotte, are you coming on to me?” he asks, bringing his hand to his chest. His T-shirt is wrinkled from sleep, and his hair stands up haphazardly, but damn, he looks fine.

  I shake my head. That’s not why I’m here.

  “Not at almost a fiver for a coffee, I’m not.”

  Bringing his cup to his lips, he covers his smile, but I don’t miss the way his eyes linger. I distract myself and reach for my coffee, taking a sip, grateful it’s still hot. I can’t stand lukewarm drinks when they’re meant to be hot.

  “Living room,” he says as he reaches for one of the plates. I grab the other, following him, stifling my groan at the way his joggers hug his arse. Ethan should be in the dictionary under ‘sinful’.

  He sits on the sofa, and I look to the armchair and then back to him, debating where to sit. He places his plate and coffee on the small table and pats the space beside him.

  I join him, and he smiles as he takes my coffee and plate, putting them beside his.

  And then his hand is in my hair, tugging me closer, his mouth covering mine, his tongue demanding entrance. I open up to him, and he kisses me with reverence. He tastes of fresh coffee and peppermint. Never in my life has anyone ever kissed me with such intensity.

  When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against mine, both of us breathing heavy.

  “Wow,” he says so quietly I almost don’t hear him. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” he says, leaning back with a soft smile, mirrored by my own. His
eyes flicker over my face before he reaches out for our plates and passes me mine, clearing his throat.

  I pick at my baguette, but the last thing on my mind is food after that kiss. Staring at my lap, I break off a small piece and pop it in my mouth, but fiddle with the rest. When I glance back at him, I find him solely focused on me.

  “Not hungry?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “Not for food, no.”

  How I find the courage to be so open with him is lost on me.

  “Me neither.”

  Everything else happens so fast as he pulls me to my feet. I yelp, dropping my plate, the baguette falling at my feet and onto the carpet, but he doesn’t seem bothered as he tosses me over his shoulder and gives my arse a good slap.

  I let out a squeal of surprise. I’m not a small woman by any means, but the way he acts––like I weigh nothing––has my stomach somersaulting with excitement.

  He takes the stairs two at a time. All the blood rushing to my head makes me a little dizzy.

  “I can walk.”

  He nips my arse with his teeth. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that…”

  Tossing me onto his bed, I bounce on the mattress and laugh as he strips out of his joggers and T-shirt, my eyes drawn to his Adonis belt and then to his erection, straining to attention. He may not be an MMA fighter any longer, but his body is still sublime—where he is all muscle, I’m more cushion.

  I let out a laugh, and he cocks an eyebrow.

  “What’s so funny?” he asks.

  Waving at his impressive physique, my eyes fix on his delicious Adonis belt before I point to myself.

  “Just how different we are physically.”

  His lips pull into a smirk. “Well, me man, you woman,” he says with a wink.

  Shaking my head, I roll my eyes. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

  He kneels on the bed, removes my trainers, and tosses them over his shoulder, which is followed by the thud of them hitting the floor.

  “Is this okay?” he asks as he reaches the waistband of my jeggings. I give him a nod in approval and he lowers them, tossing them over the side of the bed.

  His lips trail a path up each leg, and he inhales loudly when he stops at my entrance, pushing the hem of my vest top up, exposing my midriff. He peppers kisses over my pebbled skin.

  “Beautiful,” he says, and I have no doubt he means it.

  I finish removing my vest and bra. His mouth moves to the material covering my clit, and I arch into him, pulsing as he teases me under the elastic of my knickers with his fingers.

  Using his teeth, he draws them down my thighs, and then he pushes my legs apart.

  “Spread yourself open for me,” he says.

  I gasp but find myself reaching lower, my hands trembling as I do what he asks.

  “Now touch yourself.”

  My cheeks burn as I slide my finger between my folds and then hook one inside my wet channel. The way he watches while holding himself tight in his grip as he moves his hand up and down the length of him, matching my rhythm, spurs me on. I can’t believe I’m doing this in the light of day, on full display to him––and I love every second of it.

  I add pressure to my clit, so close to reaching an orgasm. My eyes flutter closed as the sensations build higher.

  He shifts his weight and tugs my wrist away gently to stop me, causing my eyes to flutter open.

  “Not yet,” he says. His eyes grow darker as he hovers over me and pulls my hand away.

  He rubs his hard length over me, and I let out a sigh as I arch into him, desperate for him to be inside me.

  “Easy, let me get a condom,” he says.

  I grab his arm. “I’m on the pill, and I’m clean,” I say. It’s something I never agreed to do with Shaun, but something I very much want to experience with Ethan.

  His body covers mine. “I’m clean too. Are you sure?” he asks, searching my face.

  Something squeezes deep in my chest, and the fact he is making sure is almost too much. And it’s impossible to ignore the feelings he evokes in me. Ones I’m not ready to acknowledge. But this is something I can do. I nod and reach for his arse. He aligns himself and fills me slowly until he's buried deep. We both sigh in unison.

  Ethan

  Holding myself still for a moment, I have to breathe through the urge to thrust. Being inside of her like this––bare––is phenomenal. The way her inner walls clench around me is enough to set my soul on fire. When she turned up wanting to make sure I was all right, a sense of calm settled over me, and it’s been a long time since I’ve felt that kind of serenity.

  After her slip up in the kitchen and the way she blushed, it was impossible not to kiss her, and then it was like a switch, all rational thought of why she was here in the first place disintegrated. And knowing her body wants mine as much as I want hers is ecstasy, and I knew I wouldn’t be sated until she was under me, and I was deep inside her.

  “You always feel so good,” I groan out as I rock into her, and I’m rewarded by her clenching around me and arching against me.

  She lets out a ragged breath as I begin to pick up the tempo. “Do you like that?” I ask, her chest rising and falling faster with each thrust.

  “Yes,” she says, gripping me with her thighs, her fingers digging into my arse, drawing me deeper.

  “Harder,” she pleads.

  Speeding up, I drive deeper and then pull out, flipping her onto her stomach. Reaching around her waist, I pull her arse into the air as she settles on all fours, glancing over her shoulder, her hair raining down like fire, and then I’m back inside her, filling her to the hilt.

  “Fuck,” she hisses, pushing back against me with a circle of her hips.

  I drive forward harder. My hand grips her hair in my fist as I pull her back against my chest, gaining access to her throat. Flicking my tongue over her sweet, damp skin, she lets out a groan of pleasure.

  “What I wouldn’t give to mark you,” I grunt as I continue thrusting into her channel, which envelopes me so tight.

  “Do it,” she says, her voice choppy.

  And I do, clamping my mouth down on the patch of skin beneath her ear, eliciting the most feral sound she’s ever made in my presence, and it urges me on. I draw back to examine my handy work and smile.

  My pleasure builds, and I know I won’t last, but I want to see her beautiful eyes when I make her come. I lift her hips and then flip her on her back.

  She laughs, the sound an aphrodisiac to my soul.

  “I have no idea how you fling me about like I weigh nothing,” she says breathlessly, but any other words die on her lips when I push into her, gripping her leg in the crook of my arm, moving it towards her as I look between us. I love seeing my flesh bare as it drives into her.

  “I need you to come,” I say. It’s all too much being bareback. The smell of our sex and her perfume encases my lungs.

  “I’m close,” she grunts, her channel tightening around me.

  “Touch yourself,” I order, desperate for my release but needing so badly to come together. I love how she does it without question, and I stare between us as she circles her clit, her channel tightening around my dick.

  Her eyes flutter closed.

  “I want you to look at me while you come.”

  I grit my teeth, the sounds of my balls slapping against her echo––along with our heavy breathing. My movements become erratic, her mouth forming an ‘O’ as her pupils dilate and she falls over the edge.

  And then I detonate, my release filling her as she continues to come around me, her pulsing channel trying to push me out and suck me back in at the same time. The sound is fucking filthy, and I love it. I throw my head back.

  Her channel twitches around me as I fall on top of her, covering her body with mine for a few seconds before rising to my knees and pulling out. The sight of my come dripping from her pussy is a vision. I spread her wide and then go down on her, licking the length of her. She arches into me
as I shove my tongue into her still pulsating pussy.

  “Oh my God, I can’t, not again,” she says, writhing around me, but she grips my hair hard, pulling me closer while I fuck her with my mouth. And then when my fingers spread her arse cheeks and tap her arsehole, she screams out my name as she comes again, this time all over my face, smothering me, and I fucking love it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ethan

  When Lottie showed up unexpectedly, the sex was off the fucking charts. I was worried I might have scared her a little, going down on her after I’d just come inside her, but she brings out the beast in me. I swear that being filthy with her might just be my new favourite pastime.

  Plus, having her body aching for mine––the way mine does for her––is a distraction I need with everything happening with Henry and Meg. Lottie has done well and truly aced the assignment.

  After she left, I tried to call Henry, but it rang out. I know how hard this must be for Meg. Clara was her best friend. It was easy for me to shut everything out and get lost in Lottie while she was here, but now she’s gone, reality creeps back in, and the part of me who cares needs to know Meg is okay.

  My phone rings and I scramble to answer it. Without looking at the screen, I know it’s Henry.

  “Hey, man,” I say.

  “Hey, sorry I didn’t call you back earlier. We were exhausted,” he says, and I can hear it in his voice. I don’t miss the way he said ‘we.’ Will these feelings ever dull?

  “That’s understandable. If you want to talk about it, I’m here,” I say.

  His sigh is heavy, and I feel the weight he must be feeling.

  “It was awful, and I can’t get the image of her lifeless body out of my head. I tried to revive her, man. I really did.” I can hear him trying to keep his emotions together, and I don’t know if he’s trying to convince himself or me of the details.

  “H, don’t do that. You did all you could. How is she holding up?” I ask, which seems like a stupid fucking question; not only is her best friend dead, but they found her that way.