“Fuckin’ Christ, baby girl,” he says with a heavy exhale. I peer up at him through the water droplets coating my lashes. “You’re a fucking goddess.” He reaches down for my hand and I stand on shaky legs. I thought the last time I sucked his cock was the hottest thing I’d ever done, but today, first against the door, and now in the shower, has toppled it. I’m so turned on I can hardly see straight.
“I need you to make me come, Ev,” I whisper as he pulls me against his body. “I need to come so badly.”
“Sucking my cock got you all worked up, huh?” His eyes are hooded, his smile lazy and blissful. “Don’t you worry, baby girl. I know just the thing. Turn around for me, put your hands on the wall.”
I must look hesitant, because Everett takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger and his eyes lock with mine.
“Do you trust me, baby girl?”
I nod, and he gives me a gentle shove to trade places with him. I press my hands and forearms against the wall, and Everett grabs my hips, pulling them back towards him. I’m leaning forward against the tiles like some pin-up girl.
“A fucking goddess, baby girl,” he whispers. He kisses a slow line down my spine, licking over the tattooed letters in the dimple above my bum before pressing his lips to each cheek. Then, he ducks between my legs. The next thing I feel is his mouth on my clit, his tongue rolled to a point, probing the over-sensitive nerves. I feel my legs tremble, knees ready to give out, and Everett’s hands grab my hips to hold me steady.
No one’s ever had me like this. Not the way Everett has—the way I’ve given myself so freely, so completely.
“Fucking beautiful goddess.” His words rumble against my pussy. The vibration alone is almost enough to make me come. I ache. I squeeze my eyes closed as his lips press against my entrance. I breatheout a tiny whimper as his tongue slips inside. “Fucking dripping for me.”
The whimpers get louder as he licks through my slit.
“God damn, Ruth, is all this for me? All of this from sucking me off?” I can’t see his face, but I can imagine his exact expression—that one of wonder, where he looks at me like he’s never seen something quite like me before. Where his eyes sparkle with awe. I nod, and then I realise he probably can’t see my face. So I attempt to sayyes, except it comes out as a hiss. “You like it when I put my mouth right here?”
I hiss again, louder this time, and Everett’s mouth moves back just a little. His tongue darts out to lick lightly at the space between my entrance and my other hole.
“Holy fuck,” I gasp. “Fuck, Ev—fuck, please.”
He laughs against me again, and I feel the deep rumble of his chuckle like a shockwave from my core, through my veins. He presses open-mouthed kisses across my pussy before I feel his lips close around my clit, and he sucks hard. I feel as much as I hear him moan as he works me over with his mouth, his movements relentless. My legs shake. My whole body trembles, and I can hear the rush of my blood in my ears as it pumps through my body. Two fingers slip easily into my slick heat, and when they curl just right, I fall apart with a sob.
I’m still shaking, my breath coming in loud gasps, when Everett slips his fingers from me and stands, pulling me against him. His skin is cool and damp where mine is hot, having stayed in the shower spray while Everett was on his knees outside its reach.
“I’ve got you, baby girl,” he whispers into the crook where my neck meets my shoulder. He turns me in his arms and lifts my chin to meet my eyes. “I’ve got you. Always. In all ways.”
Chapter thirty-seven
Everett
It takes us afull hour to clean up. We take our time in the shower, lazily rinsing ourselves clean, and then we sit in towels, talking quietly and holding hands before we eventually dress and head out to the back porch. All of Ruth’s friends—and her brother—are waiting out there for us. She points out everyone as we reach the open bifold doors.
Amie and Maisy are in the pool, splashing each other and laughing. Maisy is sitting in an inflatable ring that looks like a giant donut, with big, heart-shaped sunglasses on her face. Cam and Jay are comparing something on their phones, while Paloma—the chaotic redhead I’ve heard so much about—lies beneath a flowering cactus, snapping photos. The blonde curled up in the swinging bench seat, e-reader in hand, is Katy, and there’s a yellow Labrador curled beside her.
“Wondered when you two might emerge,” Katy says with a grin and a wrinkle of her nose. She pokes out her tongue between her teeth. Paloma jumps up, taking the four steps two at a time, waggling her eyebrows at me.
“This must beCowboy Daddy,” she says to Ruth with a wide smile, before turning to me. “I’m Paloma.”
I’m not quite sure whether to laugh or cry at the nickname Ruth’s friends have bestowed upon me, but before I know it, I’m preening a little. I offer Paloma my hand, and say, “Most people just call me Ev.”
“I prefer Cowboy Daddy,” Lo says cheekily. I’m not quite sure how to respond to that. Luckily, I don’t need to, because Maisy barrels across the porch, droplets of water flying from her like a dog shaking after a swim, and crashes into Ruth’s legs. She clips one of mine in the process, hugging my left leg and Ruth’s right one together and grinning up at us, sunglasses crooked on her face. Ruth swings the girl up onto her hip, so she’s almost face to face with us, and removes the sunglasses entirely. Maisy’s eyes are a bright, piercing shade of green, and they’re dancing with the kind of zest for life only a three-year-old can have.
“Aunty Roo, Daddy said you were busy. That why you not come outside to play.” Ruth’s face reddens adorably, and I fight the smirk that threatens my lips. Ruth only hesitates for a moment, flustered just briefly, before she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Daddy’s right,” Ruth says. “Uncle Ev and I were busy. He had to unpack all his clothes, just like we did when we got here. Remember?”
“You help?”
“I helped,” Ruth says. A rhythmic thumping starts up, accompanied by a gentle vibration around my feet, and I look down to see the Labrador wagging its tail, slapping it against the wooden boards of the porch floor. A small snort comes from behind the dog, and I judge it to come from one of the two men who are watching us with interest.
It’s probably not the one who is still glaring at me.
Jay and Cam stand when Amie makes her way over—having taken the time to dry off and throw on one of those little dresses that look like doilies—and they wait patiently behind her as she greets me and takes her daughter from Ruth’s arms. Maisy immediately demands to be put down, and rushes over to her father. Within seconds, Cam is out in the mid-afternoon sun, kicking an inflatable beach ball.
