full shot inside the pint glass. I feel Dent move to my side and hand me a beer, smirking a knowing smile when he watches me fill the pint glass up until it’s level with the already full shot glass.
Her eyes follow my hand as I reach out and hold my palm up, knowing that Dent will be ready for the next step, and he doesn’t disappoint.
Both of her dark brows shoot up the second I flick the lighter and hold it to the shot glass in the center of the pint, the flame sparking instantly as the liquor burns brightly in front of her.
While it burns between us, I catch her gaze, and with one finger, I point at the brightly lit sign above me.
I had one installed at each of the bars around the club last night. Luckily, I know enough people around town that when I want something done, it’s done right away. Some sort of glowing backlight design illuminates the simple wording centered on both sides of the solid black sign.
Dirty Dog’s Pleasure Elixir :: Ember Firecracker
I watch her jaw drop, knowing without words what I mean by that display. I’m claiming her as mine for everyone to see the second they step up to any of the bars inside Dirty. Well, I’m sure the majority of people who order Ember’s drink will have no fucking clue except for those who know us personally. And honestly, it’s more about making a statement to her anyway.
One that screams I, Dirty Dog himself, only find my pleasure from my Ember.
My firecracker.
“COME ON, BAM!” I YELL across the expanse of my backyard as I wait for him to bring back the nasty, slobber-filled tennis ball that he loves more than life. I watch him frolic around; tossing his huge body up in the air before running in circles to chase whatever imaginary thing he’s found.
Giving up on getting him to come inside so I can get some cleaning done before finding something to eat for dinner, I flop down on one of my outdoor chairs and give in to the thoughts that have held my mind captive for the last week.
After the night at Dirty when I brought him dinner, I’ve been burning for him, and it had nothing to do with the drink that he had created for me. A drink that I know in my bones was his way of letting me see just how serious he is about this newly created us.
I stuck around for another hour after his grand reveal of Ember’s Firecracker, but I had a feeling that, by me being there, Nate was having a hard time focusing on what he needed to do, which was run his club. I made my excuses, even if I wanted to stick around, and after another explosive make-out session next to my car, I headed home.
That night, even with the shocking start we had with his office surprise, had been one of the best of my life. Unfortunately for us, the timing just hasn’t been on our side for the last week. Not since he has to deal with everything that comes with having the most popular club around two weeks after opening their doors.
Over the week since, we’ve been able to steal a few phone calls here and there and texts when calls weren’t a possibility, but I’ve had enough. I know he’s busy, and it had almost been a blessing since I’ve spent almost eighteen hours a day working nonstop on A Beautiful War. I never dreamed a painting that scale would only take a little over two weeks, but if I keep up my pace, I’ll be finished middle of next week. Just over a week before my show.
This afternoon, though, I hit my breaking point. All those calls and texts were officially not enough. I’m desperate to see him face-to-face. To feel his arms around me again and his lips against mine. Which is probably why I currently feel nothing but pent-up sexual frustration and eagerness for him to return my text … or plea, rather.
I bend forward to reach behind me to pull my phone from my back pocket and check it—again—to see if Nate had texted back, but not before seeing the message that I sent him an hour ago. My desperation for him had hit a peak so high I thought I needed to take a break with my vibrator.
Ember: Come over when you’re done at Dirty. I need