Coffee & Cream

The Craving

DARCELLE

I found myself standing outside Emrys' house in the middle of the night, my heart pounding in rhythm with the crickets hidden in the tall grass. The Uber driver had been pissed, grumbling about how far out of the city I’d made him drive. His irritation cost me a little extra, but I hadn’t cared. The decision to come here wasn’t rational—it had been impulsive and emotional. I’d missed Emrys, and suddenly the thought of not being near him felt unbearable.

The long, steep road stretched before me like a final test. My footsteps echoed off the rocky path as I made my way up the hill. His mansion, made mostly of glass, loomed ahead like something out of a dream, reflecting the moonlight in a way that made it seem both unreal and magnetic. By the time I reached his gate, I was out of breath, the cool night air doing little to calm the storm in my chest.

I reached out to press the intercom button, wondering how I was going to explain my presence. But before my finger made contact, the gate clicked and swung open with a smoothness that startled me. Of course, I thought. He’d already seen me. I remembered the time I had asked him how he could feel so safe living in a glass house, so far from anyone else. He’d simply said that his security systems detected anyone coming up the road long before they reached the gate. He wasn’t kidding.

Emrys had also told me once that he wasn’t afraid of anyone. In his calm, confident way, he said that if anyone dared to come up to his house, they should be the ones afraid. I believed him. He had this energy that made you feel like stepping out of line around him was dangerous, like playing with fire. And now I was here, uninvited, which was the one thing he hated.

My nerves started to tangle in my stomach as I walked closer to his door. What the hell are you doing here, Darcelle? I didn’t know if Isabelle or any of his friends were inside. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. The need to see him, to be near him, had clouded my logic. I felt ridiculous. Maybe I should turn around before I embarrass myself further. I stopped right outside the door, staring at it, the weight of the decision pressing down on me. I raised my hand to press the doorbell, but hesitation took over, and I dropped it just as quickly. You should go, my mind screamed at me. This was a mistake.

I was about to turn around and make the long trek back down to the highway, where I could call another Uber, when the door swung open. My breath caught in my throat. There he stood, leaning casually against the back of a sleek leather sofa, holding a remote key in one hand. His expression wasn’t anger—not exactly. He looked more... confused, like he was trying to piece together why I was standing outside his house at this hour.

The door closed behind me as I walked in, the cool air of his place hitting my skin, sending a small shiver down my spine. Had he seen me standing there for the last few minutes, debating with myself like an i***t? Of course he had. His entire house was made of glass. I felt exposed, like I had nowhere to hide—not from him, not from my own stupid impulsiveness.

Emrys moved in front of me, walking toward the room where he usually hung out. I followed him like a lost puppy, not saying a word. Neither did he. The silence between us was thick, but not uncomfortable. It was charged, humming with something unspoken. He picked up a glass jar and poured some water into a sleek, crystal tumbler, then handed it to me without a word. I hadn’t realized how parched I was until the coolness of the glass hit my hand.

"What are you doing?" he asked, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Have a seat."

His tone was amused, like he was both entertained and intrigued by my sudden, unannounced appearance. I let out a deep breath I didn’t realize I had been holding and sank into one of his stools, my legs feeling weak beneath me. I sipped the water, which had a subtle taste of lemon—refreshing, cleansing in a way. My eyes drifted to the jar on the counter where slices of lemon floated serenely in the water.

"You walked up here?" he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "The car was detected fifteen minutes ago. You should’ve been here in five."

I swallowed hard, my mouth dry despite the water. "Yeah," I mumbled, "I needed to clear my head." A half-truth, but what else was I going to say? That I was so desperate to see him I couldn't think straight? That being away from him felt like suffocating, even when we weren’t supposed to acknowledge each other?

His eyes were on me now, heavy and intense. Emrys had a way of looking at you that made you feel like he could see everything—your thoughts, your insecurities, your desires. He could strip you bare with just one glance, and right now, I felt completely exposed under that gaze.

"You could’ve just called," he said, moving toward me, his voice low, almost a whisper.

"I did," I replied softly, trying to hold his stare. "You didn’t answer."

He stood there, towering over me, his face unreadable. For a moment, I thought he might call me out for being reckless and for showing up unannounced. But instead, he leaned down, his presence overwhelming, his breath brushing against my cheek.

"Maybe I wanted to see if you'd come," he whispered.

I stared into his cold, autumn eyes, a shade somewhere between blue, amber and gold, and I felt them pull at me, like they were asking me questions without saying a word. It was magnetic, the way he could do that—drag you in without so much as a gesture. Before I could stop myself, my hand moved, fingers grazing the stubble on his cheek. The warmth of his skin was a stark

Contrast to the cool tension between us. I hadn’t thought about what I was doing; it just happened. He didn’t flinch, but he stared at my hand for a moment, like it was something foreign.

I pulled it back, suddenly embarrassed. "Sorry," I whispered. "I wasn’t thinking."

He didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he reached out, his fingers tucking a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. The gesture was so intimate it sent a shiver down my spine. He moved to sit on the stool opposite me, watching me like I was the most interesting thing in the room.

“You haven’t been picking up my calls... or texting back,” I finally said, the words tumbling out before I could hold them in. It had been gnawing at me for days, and being in front of him now made it impossible to pretend it didn’t bother me. “Did I do something wrong?”

He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if to study me further. “I don’t know... did you?” His voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it, sharp enough to cut through any pretenses. He was asking a question I wasn’t sure I wanted to answer.

I knew exactly what he was talking about—how I’d aired his calls while I was out with Mal. A sweet guy, sure, but he wasn’t my type. Not really. Maybe someone like Isabelle would be more his speed. But Emrys wasn’t the kind to let things slide. He didn’t need to be told; he knew. The worst part was, he wanted me to say it. Admit it. He was letting the guilt swallow me whole until I came crawling back to him, which was exactly what I had done. It was why I was here, sitting in his house in the middle of the night.

He sipped his water, his lips curling into a slight, knowing smile. “Hungry?” he asked, and there was something in his tone that made the question feel like it held more weight than just food. The smirk he gave me afterward confirmed it. “You’ll need the strength.”

Oh, s**t. I swallowed hard. The way he could shift the air in the room with just a few words, the way he toyed with me—it was intoxicating, maddening. And I loved it.

I nodded. The reality of how empty my stomach was hitting me. After getting that high with Nathan, I hadn’t eaten all day. “Yeah, actually,” I replied, my voice sounding softer than I intended. “I’m starving.”

“What do you feel like eating?” He asked, his voice almost playful now, like he was some chef ready to take my order. “Anything?”

I shrugged, not caring about the food nearly as much as I cared about the way his eyes flickered over me. “Surprise me.”

He led me to the kitchen, where the soft lighting made everything seem surreal. Emrys in the kitchen was a sight I’d never quite gotten used to. He moved with such purpose, so effortlessly. His kitchen was futuristic, all sleek lines and stainless steel—the kind of place where everything looked like it belonged in a magazine. I leaned against the counter, watching him cook with a finesse that shouldn’t have surprised me but still did. The cheesy garlic wraps smelled incredible, and I found myself grinning as I watched him work, recording a few snippets on my phone just because I loved the way his kitchen looked.

When he pulled out a bottle of Baileys to make an espresso martini, I raised an eyebrow. He knew I was obsessed with coffee, and this small gesture felt like a secret acknowledgment of something intimate in its simplicity. He grabbed a beer for himself, and we moved into the living room, eating on the couch and watching TV, something I’d never done here before. It felt... relaxed, but the undercurrent of tension hummed.

When we finished eating, he stretched out, letting his food settle, then shifted so his head rested on my lap. His weight there felt like an anchor, grounding me in the moment. His hand rested casually on my thigh, but the way his fingers curled slightly made me aware of every inch of my body.

A few minutes passed in silence before he unbuttoned my shorts with a slow, deliberate motion. I held my breath. He slid them down along with my panties, the cool air of the room kissing my bare skin. Emrys, as always, took his time. He leaned in, inhaling deeply, and a soft smile spread across his face, dark and dangerous.

Then he was on me, his mouth moving with a precision that made me dizzy. His fingers slipped inside me, while his tongue worked in tandem, teasing, tasting, and driving me wild. My moans filled the room, echoing off the glass walls, bouncing back at me as I lost myself in the sensation of him, his touch, his warmth.

I was so close, right there, teetering on the edge. And just when I was about to fall over that blissful precipice, he stopped. Pulled away. I gasped, my body jerking, still needy, still trembling with desire.

“Why... why did you stop?” I managed to get out, breathless, almost pleading. My body was screaming for release, and he just stood there, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, that wicked grin on his face.

“That’s your punishment,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “for going on that date with that puppy.”

Oh f**k.