Among Ash and Ember: A New Adult Romance Read online

  Will he send me back downstairs now? Am I too innocent for him?

  No. He asked for me. I mean, surely, he’ll still pay for my time. Won’t he?

  My brain doesn’t want to shut up. The noise is consuming as the silence in the room is heavy with tension. I want to speak, but words escape me around this handsome man. He is gorgeous. Far too breathtaking for me to handle.

  He leans in closer, allowing his fingertips to trace a slow line down my shoulder, and his gaze follows their path. Finding my elbow, he grips it and tugs me closer to him, then lowers his hand once more.

  Our bodies are flush, and I can feel his erection pressing against me, but he makes no move to touch me, or even kiss me. Nothing is separating us in this moment, and the heat of him is unbearable. I feel like I’m standing in the desert, about to melt from the merciless sun that’s beating down on my flesh.

  “Tell me who you are, Flame?”

  His question stills me, causing me to furrow my brows. I don’t do heart-to-hearts. This isn’t a date, and he needs to know that.

  “That’s not how this works. We fuck, you pay, I leave.” My voice cracks on the words because they’re not my own. Isobel’s mantra came easily to me. She’s drummed it into my head for the past week.

  He tips his head to the side at my confession, his eyes penetrating me like they’re burrowing themselves right into my heart. He won’t find much there, only ashes are left after the fire that burned my life away.

  At my response, he doesn’t refute me. Instead, his mouth finds the nape of my neck and his nose trails over the skin. I hear him inhale my scent. The motion is sensual, something I’m not used to, and I push away from him, forcing myself to meet his hungry, yet inquisitive, gaze.

  He doesn’t say anything, just tugs me along with him to the sofa. Once he’s seated, he pulls me onto his lap, so I’m straddling his thighs. Our bodies fit together like broken pieces slipping beside each other to create a whole.

  The hardness of him presses against my core. Only material separates us, and I wonder what he will feel like without his clothes on. What he will look like naked.

  “I’ll fuck you,” he promises with a wicked grin, and a dimple appears in his left cheek, spurring the butterflies in my stomach into a flurry of activity. His hands trail over my shoulders as his eyes follow their path. He watches me as his finger dip along my back, then over my hips and down to my legs. Silently, he spreads my thighs so wide it almost hurts and bunches my dress until he exposes my underwear. An appreciate groan rumbles in his chest when he notices the thong I’m wearing. His gaze is locked on his movements as he pushes it to the side and dips one finger into me. “You’re already wet.”

  “I . . .”

  “Does every client get you this wet?” he questions, and I wonder if it’s a hint of jealousy I detect in his tone. I feel my cheeks heating at the realization that this stranger has me so turned on after only one touch. His hips rise, pressing me along the bulge in his slacks. Our connection is seamless—his hard edges fit along my soft curves.

  “No.”

  “Are you lying?”

  Shoving against him, I move to stand, but his hold on me is far too strong, and I can’t get off his lap. His arm bands around my waist, keeping me right where he can touch me. His hand dips under my panties, and two fingers invade my entrance eliciting a whimper from my lips.

  “I asked you a question, pretty girl,” he says affectionately, causing my heart to flip-flop. My stupid, wild heart thuds against my ribs and they feel as if they’re about to crack from the sheer force.

  I lift my chin in defiance, hoping I sound stronger than I feel. “Like I said, we fuck, you pay, I—”

  “I know what you fucking said, and like I told you, I’m paying for your time, and you need to obey me.” He doesn’t look like he’s joking, his expression serious as his fingers find my core once again and he continues his ministrations. His thumb presses against my clit, circling it expertly, turning my body hot and needy.

  He dips two digits into me, and my walls pulse around him. My hips roll, and he smirks below me. Those deep blue eyes look up, watching me as he works my body into a frenzy. I lose myself to the feeling, to the heat that’s shooting through every nerve in my body.

  I haven’t ever done this before, but for some reason, all I can think about is my orgasm and giving it to this man. He crooks his fingers, rubbing a spot deep inside me, and the sounds coming from there make my cheeks burn with embarrassment as he toys with me.

  My toes curl, my nails dig into the expensive material of his shirt, and I don’t care if I rip it from his body because I want to see exactly what he looks like without the offending item of clothing. I want to lay him bare as he’s done to me. The emotions that are catapulting through me cause me to whimper and moan.

  I’m about to crest when he pulls his hand from me, causing a keening cry of frustration to fall from my lips. I open my eyes, meeting his satisfied grin. He’s playing with me like I’m a goddamn instrument.

  “This isn’t what I do for fun, Mr. . . .” I utter as I glare at him for taking away the pleasure I felt only moments ago. I wait for him to tell me his name, to say anything, but I realize he isn’t going to respond, so I continue, “This is my life. I’ve accepted it. If you’re just here playing mind games with me, I’ll go back to the bar and find another client who will pay up and get his rocks off so I can go home.”

  He doesn’t miss a beat when he questions, “And where is home?”

  “No personal—”

  “This is my money, my time, and you're here to please me.” He allows me off his lap, and I have to take a step back.

  He doesn’t rise, merely regards me from his seat on the sofa, looking like a dangerous, dark god—beautiful and deadly. His shirt is ruffled, his dark slacks hug his thighs, and his hair is messy.

  His eyes narrow on me. He lifts his hand, resting his elbow on the armrest of the sofa, and he rubs his index finger along his chin. “So, little Flame, tell me where. The. Fuck. Is. Home?”

  “Like I said—”

  “Ten thousand,” he interrupts me, silencing me with merely two words. He gives me a moment, perhaps to process what he’s just said, but I’m sure he’s lying. “Right now.”

  Tipping my head to the side, I open my mouth in shock before asking, “What?”

  He’s young, far too young to have that amount of money in his wallet. Then again, as I glance around the room he brought me to it’s obvious he’s wealthy. How can a man who doesn’t look like he’s even hit thirty afford a room like this?

  “I’ll pay you ten thousand for your time this evening. Just humor me.” He smiles, reaching for me, pulling me closer toward him, so I’m once again perched on his lap. His grip is so tight, I can’t move away. His hands stroke my thighs gently, as if it’s normal for him having a random girl planted on his lap. The soft circles of his thumbs on my skin make me tingle, and there’s no way I can ignore his expert touch.

  The movements of his fingers, along with the way he’s watching me, ignite a fire deep in my gut. My nipples harden when his thumb swipes across my panties, pressing against the bundle of nerves that seem to ache for more.

  “Tell me, sweet girl,” he coos, low and seductive. “Where does this pretty little stranger come from?” His eyes blaze as a whimper tumbles freely from my lips. He nudges the material of my underwear aside and massages me like I’m the most delicate thing in the world.

  His touch is commanding, yet affectionate, which heats my blood. My lips part, but I can’t focus on the response. His thumb dips into me. It’s not deep, not at all what I need, but the wetness gathers at my core as his expert ministrations make me tremble.

  He pulls his hand from between us and places his thumb on his lips, then slowly licks the arousal from it. There’s a fire in his eyes, a blazing desire, and I roll my hips, causing friction against his erection which is still prominent in his slacks.

  “I live down the ro
ad from the hotel. Two blocks away,” I whisper, breathing deeply, hoping he doesn’t notice the inflection of need in my voice, but I know it’s futile. This man can read me front to back like a book. Even if I wanted to hide who I am, where I live, or even the real part of me I’ve shoved so deep down inside, I don’t think I could ever fool him. “What’s your name?”

  “I thought you said no personal details?” He chuckles when I glare at his question.

  Shrugging, I allow my finger to trail down the buttons of his shirt. Can I play the seductive kitten and undo them? One by one, until he’s exposed, allowing me to explore his torso, and I’m sure there are smooth dips and valleys where my fingers could roam. “Since you’ve been asking all the questions, I figure I should at least know your name?”

  “Ash,” he tells me with a slight nod. “And you’re?” He waves his two fingers in the air, circling them as if offering me the opportunity to respond. “And not some street name you use; tell me your real name,” he utters.

  “I’ve never told anyone my real name. At least, not for a long while.” My confession causes the sadness of losing the person I used to be grips me, but Ash’s fingers tease my nipples casually, like it’s natural for him to touch me anywhere he’d like.

  He doesn’t acknowledge me, but I know he heard me. He’s thinking about his next move; I can imagine the wheels turning in his mind. Chess players take time to think about their moves, about how they’re going to take their opponents down, and that’s what Ash is doing. I haven’t known him for long, but I can tell he doesn’t just say something for the sake of it. “Tell me,” he urges.

  “Katerina,” I utter my name. It’s been so long since I’ve said it, the word feels foreign on my tongue. Like she’s no longer me. I’m a guest in the body of the girl I used to know.

  After two years, I am a stranger to myself. It’s been a long while since I recognized the real me in the mirror. Each time I look, all I see is the stranger I’ve become.

  “Katerina,” Ash murmurs slowly and deliberately. It’s like he’s tasting my name on his tongue. He seems to like it because he smiles. “And you decided Flame is the name you’ll use for this shit show?” He lifts his hand, once again gesturing to the air.

  “I had no choice but to change who I was. I don’t know why you care,” I tell him before pushing on his chest. This time, he allows me to rise, and my dress falls over my thighs to cover my body from his gaze. “Not everyone has rich parents to pay their way.” My words fall from my mouth before I have time to think about what I’m saying and the moment he hears me, I see the pain etched on his face. Shit.

  “You think that’s who I am?” he questions incredulously, I’ve just judged him for being in a fancy hotel, dressed in an expensive suit, and looking like a model who’s just stepped off the runway. But then again, if he doesn’t want to be seen a certain way, he shouldn’t act the way he does.

  “I call it like I see it,” I respond, attempting to hide the guilt that’s tightening my chest. Turning away from him, I head to the window, staring out at the city below. I wish I were somewhere exotic, but instead, my life has brought me to the streets of Seattle. I don’t know if he lives in the city. If he does, the filth of the streets doesn’t touch the penthouse or the hotel we’re currently standing in.

  We’re safely locked away in a glass cage. Nothing can touch you when you’re this far up. A prince in a cloud of safety—that’s what Ash is.

  “Do you have any siblings?” he questions from behind me. I half expected him to come to me, but he is still seated on the sofa.

  I shake my head, fiddling with the material of my dress, remembering how lonely I was growing up. I never knew what it was like having a best friend. Not a sister or brother to fight with. And then, before I was old enough to realize it, I was completely alone.

  “No. I was an only child.” My response comes out angrier than I intend, and I know he notices it. There’s something about Ash that assures me he’s not someone who will disregard anything I say or take it lightly. I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing, but I can’t change how I feel, or stop expressing myself as I usually would.

  “What’s made you so angry, Kitten?” he asks, causing me to glance over my shoulder and take him in. There’s a sadness in his gaze, but also so much curiosity.

  “How old are you?” I blurt without overthinking it.

  He laughs. It’s the first real smile I’ve seen on his face, and I’m drunk on the way his expression lights up. His eyes crinkle at the sides, his mouth tilts, and his perfect white teeth peek at me. He is nothing short of flawless, which causes me to silently question what he’s doing here, paying a girl for her company.

  “I’m twenty-five. Almost twenty-six, actually.”

  “You have a birthday soon?”

  He nods in response.

  “When is it?” This time, I smile. It’s the only day I’ve ever felt like the old me—on my birthday. When I was growing up, I used to have a big slice of chocolate cake and a mug of coffee while reading my book on the sofa. It was my ritual every year; my mother would bake, and we would have a slice for breakfast.

  “No personal details,” the man reminds me with a sly smirk.

  I move toward him again, and settle myself on the sofa beside him, excitement lacing my tone as I ask, “Fuck that. Tell me?” I don’t care about the way I curse outwardly. I forget who I am and where I am. And for a minute, I forget why I’m here. Right now, in this moment, I’m a girl, with a boy, and we’re on a date.

  “You’re quite demanding.” He turns toward me, giving me a playful wink. Ash relaxes his posture before responding, “It’s in three weeks.”

  That’s soon. Like, really soon. “Are you celebrating?”

  “No, my brother and I just stay home. I might have a few drinks, but we don’t party,” he tells me, his tone turning serious.

  All the fun that hovered around us is gone, and in its place is tension.

  Ash

  I’m not sure what this girl is doing to me. I brought her up here to get my dick wet, and now I’m confessing shit about who I am that I never tell anyone. It may only have been my birthday, but women who enter this room do not learn who Ashton Addington is.

  They spread their legs, and get filled with my cock—not some fucked up story time about the Addington family lineage. But then again, Katerina doesn’t know my full name or my family name. None of them do. It’s anonymous. Nothing more than a one-night stand. Once I’ve found release, they leave.

  “You don’t celebrate?” she questions, breaking my train of thought and causing me to glance at her for a moment.

  I want to tell her to leave. Mainly because I’m flummoxed by how intriguing she is, how she pulls information from me effortlessly.

  Her dark wavy hair makes my fingers itch to tug it backward. I would love to hear her whimper. I fantasize about that sound falling from her lips. If I were to shove my cock down her throat, would she choke, or take me like a pro? Those beautiful eyes would surely be wide, shocked at my roughness, but I’m confused at how this woman can care more about my birthday than I do.

  “No. My birthday is not something that should be celebrated.” The words tumble from my mouth in a whoosh. If I allow my thoughts to continue, she will soon be on her knees. I want that, but I also want to talk.

  Who knew a pretty little thing like her could make Ashton Addington want to have a conversation?

  She frowns, rising from the sofa before she moves to the desk. Her body is beautiful. I bet she’d look good naked, lying on the mattress and open and ready for me to devour, but I make no move to go to her.

  “You may act like an asshole, but you should still celebrate. You’re quite charming when you try hard enough.” She shrugs as she smiles innocently.

  Rising from my seat, I make my way toward her. I’ve had many women in this room before. So many, in fact, that their faces are merely a blur.

  None of them return.

&
nbsp; Once they walk out the door, they aren’t of interest to me anymore. But there’s something about the sweet yet fiery girl that makes me want to keep her here, lock her in the bedroom, perhaps even chain her to the bed.

  “Don’t mistake me for a nice man, Kitten,” I tell her. “There’s not one nice bone in my body. The moment you deduced I was an asshole, you were correct.” We’re inches apart, but I make no move to touch her again. If I do, I may not stop.

  “Is that why you pay women to come here with you?”

  Her curiosity is adorable, and I want more of it. I want to bask in her sweetness. How is a woman who whores herself out so beautiful, so fucking alluring?

  “You’re a mouthy little thing, aren’t you?” I question her. The soft rosy hue on her cheeks turns darker at my question. “Tell me, Kitten.” I lean in and allow my lips to whisper over her ear. “Will you lie back on the bed and let me fuck you until you’re a boneless mess and when I’m done, leave without questions?”

  “Money upfront. You’re welcome to throw me out whenever you need to.” Her retort is confident, causing me to take one step back, allowing space between us. “And when I leave, I won’t be back.”

  It’s what I want. It’s the only way I do this . . . Normally. . . But there’s nothing ordinary about Katerina. When she first introduced herself as Flame, I knew it was a lie, and I’m shocked she offered up her real name.

  “Fine.” I pull my cell phone from my pocket before tapping the keys to open the banking app. “Your account number?” Lifting my gaze to meet hers, I raise a brow, waiting for her to give me her details. Once she does, I ensure the payment is made immediately. Her purse vibrates and dings with a notification. I gesture to the bedroom. “Now you can go into the bedroom, take your clothes off, and wait for me. I want you completely naked.”

  She moves wordlessly, leaving me alone in the living room. Finding Ember’s number, I tap out a message, telling him I’ll be late. He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need to because he knows what I mean.