Ember X (Death Collectors) - By Jessica Sorensen Page 0,10
scrolling over my face, and then it travels downward over my body.
“I really can’t…” The way he’s looking at me is making it difficult to protest. “I just… I’m not a fan of getting touched…” I shake my head at my absurd response.
The corners of his lips tug upward. “Well, what if I promise not to touch you?” He arches an eyebrow at me as he backs toward the dance floor, maintaining my gaze.
The song switches to “Degausser” by Brand New and I find my feet taking on a life of their own, as Raven’s words echo through my head. Have fun. I move with him, raising my hands above my head to maneuver through the people, trying not to get touched by anyone.
He walks backward until he reaches the edge of the crowd, then he stops and waits for me to catch up. I’m grateful he chooses to keep a little bit of distance from the other people. Once I reach him however, I realize that I wasn’t lying when I said I couldn’t dance.
“Don’t laugh at me when I fall on my ass,” I joke. “Promise you won’t.”
His mouth teases to a grin. “Okay, I promise.” Then he puts his hands out like he’s going to touch me and I suck in a breath. But he stops right as he’s about to touch my hips, and inches close enough that I can feel the heat between us, the brush of his clothes, the feel of his breath; yet, he’s not touching me.
I exhale as he begins to rock his body, swaying to the rhythm, and I can’t help but shut my eyes, and move freely to the beat as well. My heart is throbbing in my chest as I lean just a little nearer so I can feel him, yet I can’t feel him. All over me, invisible tingles everywhere. I imagine his hands could be on my arms, my back, my hips, grabbing my breast, sliding between my thighs. I want to moan so God damn bad that I have to bite on my bottom lip to suppress it.
I sense him watching me so I crack my eyes open and then open them wider at the sight of his face, his lips parted, his eyes dark and lustful.
I don’t even know him, yet I feel like I’m going to combust from the nearness of him. When he moves closer, I stay put, bound to the floor by my yearning, even when he slants into me. I arch my back, and his chest follows the path of mine, his hands sliding around me, yet he still doesn’t touch me.
He tips his head forward and our lips are only inches away; his breath dusting my lips, my cheeks. The front of his shirt brushes my neckline and a moan does escape my lips.
As the music continues to pulsate, he lets out a deep moan too and the sound is erotic and causes me to tremble. For a second, I think he’s going to kiss me and I consider letting him, wanting—needing to feel what those soft lips of his taste like.
“Ember,” he whispers and then shuts his eyes.
Licking my lips, I close my eyes, and wait for whatever’s going to happen next. I wait and wait and when I can’t take it any longer, I open my eyes.
He’s gone. Vanished into thin air. I stand back upright, scanning the crowd, but I can’t find him anywhere. “He didn’t even tell me his name,” I mutter, feeling like an idiot. Not only did I break all my rules by coming out here with him, but I practically orgasmed in front of him and he didn’t even touch me.
Shaking my head at myself and trying to breathe through the intoxicating feelings still pulsating through me, I search the mob of people for Raven.
I check up the stairway and then search the crowd, finally spotting the top of Raven’s pink head bobbing up and down in the middle it. A band is setting up their instruments at the front of the room—things are about to get hectic. Inhaling, I tuck in my shoulders and weave around the edge of the room, careful not to come into contact with anyone.
“Raven!” I holler over the music as her pink wig descends further into the crowd. I press my back against the wall and edge my way toward her, trying not to run into anyone.
Remy, a short girl with black hair and choppy bangs, stands