Page 115 of Ember Rising

His entire body tenses and he groans hard, a hot wave of pleasure washing over me as he comes. I love that I did this to him.

After several seconds, he drops his head back to the pillow, scrubbing a hand over his face. I move off him, lying on my back and murmuring, “Come here.”

He’s on his side facing me in a second flat. I spread my legs wide, feeling his cum running out of me. I take his hand, guiding it between my legs.

“Touch me,” I say softly. “Here.”

I moan as I guide his fingertip over my clit.

“Go slowly. Gentle. Rub your cum into me.”

Evander is a perfect student. He does exactly what I want, dragging his fingertips up through my cum-soaked pussy and circling my clit.

“Oh God.” I lock my eyes on his. “Just like that.”

When he moves his fingers back down, I moan. He drags them back up, freshly soaked, and gently rubs his thumb over my clit. I cry out, the edge approaching.

“So good.” I cry out again, fisting the sheets. “Oh God. Fuck. Don’t stop.”

I arch my back, coming apart in an explosion of bliss. It’s a full-body orgasm, and he doesn’t stop wringing every second he can get out of it.

When I drop back down and move his hand away, I laugh softly. His cock is hard against my thigh already.

“You liked it?” he murmurs.

I smile and turn on my side so I’m facing him. “Yes. A lot. You?”

His smile fades away and he runs his thumb over my jawline. “I’ve never felt anything like that. I know what you mean about being afraid to say it’s love. I think it is for me, though.”

“Maybe we’re just highly sexually compatible.”

After kissing my temple, my cheek, and my lips, he says, “You make my weak parts strong. I want to do that for you, too.”

He’s the only one who’s ever called me out for deflecting deep feelings with sarcasm. I don’t want to do that with him.

I cup his cheek, my eyes on his. “You do.”

38

“My property expansion will include an underground, climate-controlled vault for my growing art collection. It will have an annex I can host parties for our command team in. A soundproof annex.” Electronic message from New America Commander Lochlan Murphy to fellow commanding officers

Pax

Eight days later

It’s fucking weird to be drinking a beer and listening to music while ash and smoke obscure everything on the other side of the bar’s windows.

The bar has a recent addition to its entrance—a small room where people can stop to shake off the ashes they’re covered in. Air-cleaning machines are running at full capacity all over the bar, but the smell of smoke clings to everything.

Carson City should have been evacuated. People are dropping in the streets here from smoke inhalation, and often no one can even see them until they trip over them. The smoke and ash make it impossible to see.

But apparently, Soren Whitman thinks he’d look weak if he ordered an evacuation. He stopped the manufacturing of all nonessential items and is having air cleaners and firefighting equipment made instead.

There’s talk of regular citizens, with no experience, being drafted to fight the fires. Whitman seems willing to die on this hill, and he’s forcing everyone who works under him into the same situation.

Rebecca Yin is one of those people. My father’s assistant is a pretty, buttoned-up twenty-eight-year-old woman. Her brown hair is back in a bun and she still has on the charcoal business suit she wore to work today.

Though Rebecca’s expecting to meet her friend Olivia here for their weekly dinner, Olivia’s not going to make it. She’ll be messaging Rebecca in—I glance down at my watch—seventeen minutes to say she can’t make it because she got called back in to work for an emergency.