Page 38 of Burn

“Shut up and don’t talk to me.” I scoot away from Nick and into Aunt Lauren. “Switch seats.”

Aunt Lauren smirks. “No fuckin’ way.”

As you can see, she’s my favorite aunt. She’s also my only aunt, so maybe that’s why, but whatever the reason, she’s cool as shit. Imagine having Amy Schumer as your aunt. That’s exactly how Lauren is. She owns her own hair salon in Bellevue and if you ever want to look like a runway model for a night while lounging at home, let her dress you.

Thankfully, Dad gets into a conversation with Uncle Wayne. He’s the director of marketing at the hotel, so they are constantly having work conversations. I try to stay out of them and focus on the aspects of the hotel I control.

Lauren leans into me and frowns at my hair. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but you look like hell today.”

I stare at my plate. “Thanks. I spent hours on this look.”

“You’re lucky your mom hasn’t made you go change yet.”

Once again pushing the sleeves of my overly large sweater up, my gaze shifts to my legs crossed under the table. I thought I put together my outfit pretty well. Red sweater, black pants, heels . . . “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

Lauren reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair back into my bun. “It’s your hair. It’s . . . all over the place and you still have shampoo in it.”

Shit. See. I told you.

Clearing my throat, I scoot back and excuse myself to the bathroom. I’m standing in there, alone, in front of the sink but I don’t look up right away. I don’t because the moment I look in the mirror, I know the reminder that’s going to hit me.

The reminder of the night, the memories of a man I can’t shake today. I’ll be reminded because he’s the reason I’m late, the reason my thoughts are scrambled and I’m a mess on Christmas.

The moment I raise my eyes, lift them to my reflection, there’s a sharp pinch in my chest. There’s the reminder. On my neck there’re those pink dots, despite my olive skin.

I need to forget about him, but a guy who fucks like that, it’s not possible.

I’m screwed.

Goddamn that firefighter.

Charged Hose

A hose that’s filled with water and pressurized, ready to use. This is done after the hose is deployed.

I’m hard the moment I wake up. It’s no surprise, but I’m disappointed when I realize I’m alone and Mila’s gone.

Goddamn it!

I should have tied her up.

No, you shouldn’t have. You’d be just as bad as Kellan.

Rolling onto my back, I stare at the ceiling, blinking away the sleep. It’s cold in the loft as always. Jacey sleeps with the goddamn window open in her room, and it’s below my room. It’s like she freezes me out up here.

Sighing, I raise my hands to my hair, running them through it and knowing I need to get up and shower. But I can’t with the hard-on I have. Might as well take care of it.

Dropping my right hand below the sheet, I palm my dick, my eyes drifting closed at the sensation of pleasure it sends through my body. My back stiffens, the need for release again damn near suffocating. I can hear my heart thudding in my head with my pulse.

Memories of last night surface and I imagine Mila’s warm pussy tightening around me and squeeze my dick, groaning at the thought as I pump my hand faster.

Just as I’m getting close, I hear someone coming up the stairs to my room.

Stupid fucking roommates!

It’s times like this I wished I lived alone, but I know I can’t afford my own place in Seattle. I sit up against the wall because the only way it’s not going to be obvious I have a hard-on is if I’m sitting up.

“Hey, sunshine,” Jacey calls out with a bagel and coffee in hand as she steps into my room barefoot and wearing Evan’s SFD hoodie she stole a few years ago.

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