Page 166 of Burning Ember
“Uhmmm . . . no, he’s not.” I look left and right.
“That’s what you tell yourself. It works. Trust me.”
I throw her a sardonic look saying, ‘yeah, that is so not going to work.’
I’ve only danced at home with my mom, Sundown, and Will. It’s kind of a family tradition. But we always danced at home, behind closed doors, not anywhere anyone else could see. At least, I haven’t.
When I was younger, my mom had this mix tape, and often, out of the blue, she’d put it on and crank up the radio. It opened with “Peace Train” by Cat Stevens, followed by similar seventies hits. We’d dance around the house for hours. Sometimes my mom would stop the tape before the last song played and those were the best days. Other times she’d let it play through, and when, “Maggie May” by Rod Stewart came on she’d lose her steam, close her eyes, sing softly, and eventually start to cry. After it ended, she’d leave us to retreat alone into her room.
I asked Sundown once, why out of all the names she could have picked for her baby, she chose that one. Willow Maggie May Shaw. Especially since it was a bad memory for the both of us, and it hurt too much to listen to that song after she left. Sunny answered, “Because it was her favorite.”
Ironically, it was Will and the happiness she brought into my life that got me dancing again. Her birth and my love for her healed the wound left behind by my mother leaving.
Snapping me away from the memories of my past, Lily pulls me a little closer and holds my hands. She begins to dance. Her movements are small and slow. She sashays her hips and raises our hands. Her cobalt eyes never leave mine and encourage me to give in and move like she does.
I fight it at first. My discomfort at being the center of attention is winning out over my love for music and my natural instinct to appreciate it by moving freely.
The song playing is “Iris” by The Goo Goo Dolls. It has deep, meaningful lyrics and a heady rhythm. I find it nearly impossible not to get pulled in. All too soon, the song lulls me, calms me, and works its magic.
I do as Lily says, and think only of Mav. It may be the alcohol, but I swear I can sense his eyes on me and the desire behind them. I cling to that tether we share and block out the crowd around me.
After a moment, the awkwardness fades and the emotion the song evokes takes hold like a river as it streams through me. My eyes close. The room falls away and my body starts to sway.
I let go. Relax. And just feel.
Lily’s fingers disappear from mine, and free I reach up to take the pins from my hair, hold it up high and away from the heated skin of my neck. Sex is in the air and the sensation of it swirls around me like smoke, tempts me to let my hands roam over other areas of my body that I’d never normally touch in front of a room full of people.
As I let go of my hair, the weight of it settles on my shoulders. My hips circle and my knees bend. My hands slide down my body, over my chest, and back up to my neck.
MAVERICK
I don’t have the words to explain what witnessing Ember and Lily dancing together does to me. The erotic fantasy tunneling through my mind is one best locked away to ponder on later.
By the guilty look on Goose’s face, I’d say he’s thinking the same thing.
I fist my beer and fight the urge to knock the nasty thoughts that star my girl from his head.
“Don’t glare at me. You’re the one that sent them out there together.”
He’s right of course.What the hell I was thinking?
The sight of Ember and Lily dancing together quickly draws more male attention than either of us are comfortable with. Simultaneously we stand and move just off the dance floor. Near enough to intercede and stop a brother from touching our property if need be.
Yeah, most of the HOCs here know who the girls belong to, but the same can’t be said for the Greenbacks. And Smoke, although Ember’s been in my arms the entire night, clearly hasn’t gotten the message. He’s been sitting in the darkest corner of the room and showing blatant interest in what’s mine, which is really starting to piss me off.
As Ember’s nervousness begins to fade, she closes her eyes and lets go.
I knew from the day I saw her play soccer with the kids, she was a free spirit. But to what extent didn’t hit home until now. She moves in such a way it looks like art, and instantly puts me under her spell.
Her movements are raw and full of emotion. Completely unfiltered.
Seeing her in leather, both the boots and the skirt, has had me rock hard all night. But witnessing her lose herself, touch herself, swing and dip her hips is the sweetest kind of sexual torture. All I can think about is throwing her over my shoulder and carrying her off to fuck good and hard until we’re both spent.
Prying my gaze from her, I see a few men struggling with the same thought.
Fuck, they better not be thinking what I’m thinking.
That those hips were made for my hands to hold. That those parted pink lips were made to be kissed by my lips; and as soon as I get this woman in a bed, she’s going to move like this as she rides my cock, and when I lose myself deep inside her, it’ll be the sweetest kind of heaven for a sinner like me.
