We slept together. Evan Branson basically fucked my brains out and now he’s sleeping on my chest, naked. I think — no, Iknow— that was the best sex of my life. From the touching, the whispers, the edging, the teasing to the cleanup; everything was fantastic. I’m still in shock about it. I knew when he promised me his dick would be worth the wait, I just didn’t know how much.
Just thinking about it — and feeling him against my leg now — makes me extra giddy. I muster up the strength to push his body off mine as he stirs, falling onto his back. He looks like a God, and he fucks like one too. His face is perfectly relaxed, his jawline still sharp as hell as his chest rises and falls, the sun peeking into his room, giving his blonde waves a gentle glow.
I can’t help myself anymore, so I climb onto him, straddling his abdomen as I press my hands to his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath my palms. I press a kiss to his forehead. He still doesn’t wake. I press another kiss to his cheek. I’m smiling so hard my mouth hurts when I start to slide down him, kissing across his toned chest, until he starts to stir more, opening his eyes a little, blinking rapidly.
“Good morning, sunshine,” I say, kissing along his face again. He doesn’t say anything other than that boyish, I-just-woke-up groan that leaves his mouth. “What’s the matter with you?”
“What’s wrong withyou?” he asks, his voice heavy with sleep that it sounds so low and sexy. For someone who has a naked girl on top of him, he doesn’t seem too thrilled. He rubs his eye with one hand, the other finding my hip as he runs his thumb across the bone. It feels like he’s been tethered to me. As if he justhasto touch me. That’s more like it. “It’s, like, six am.”
He’s not a morning person. I love it. I’m not a particularly a morning person either, but I think I’ve turned into an Evan person. If being a morning person means I get to wake up to this sight beneath me, I’ll get up at six every day for the rest of my life.
“So?” I ask, cheerfully. He looks up at me now. Well, he looks at my bare chest first before his eyes wander to mine. His cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink that I can’t help but stroke my thumb against it. He’s like a damn puppy – all sweet and soft.
“So…Why do you have so much energy?” he asks, but he’s grinning now, his thumb still circling my hip and I notice the ribbon he’s still wearing. I lean forward and press a soft kiss to his lips, loving the fresh taste of him. He tastes faintly like toothpaste, but mostly like me.
“I always have energy. There’s never a dull moment with me, Branson,” I say.
“Yeah, I realised,” he replies, laughing. He leans up in the bed, rests his back against the headboard as he wraps his hands around my waist, shoving me closer to him. I can feel his already hard dick pressing against me and my heartbeat starts to pick up as I look down at him, matching the smile on his face. He does the stupidest thing he can do and rolls my hips against him.
“Ev,” I warn, narrowing my eyes at him. He ignores me.
“You just woke up and you’re already this wet for me?” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of my chest. I would be embarrassed, but I always feel everything so deeply when it comes to him. Even if that means being so incredibly turned on just by waking up on top of him. He rolls me over him again and I can feel my arousal coating his dick. I brace my hands on his shoulders, leaning further into him.
“Don’t start things you don’t have time to finish,” I say into his neck.
“I could go on like this all day with you, Scarlett, you know that,” he says, diving into a messy kiss that’s all teeth, skin, and lips. A huge part of me hates feeling like I’m no longer in control, but another part of me, buried deep down, secretly loves it. I’ve not felt this happy in a long time and God, I deserve it.
I hear the sound of scratching against the door. I ignore it, kissing him back before it gets louder.
“What the hell is that?” I ask, breaking away from the kiss, narrowing my eyes at him.
“It’s just our dog. Come closer to me,” he replies, pushing my chest closer to his, but I resist when the scratching intensifies.
“Let that poor dog in here right now, Branson,” I demand. He scoffs, not taking me seriously. When I don’t laugh or smile at him, he huffs, sliding out from underneath me.
All six-foot and three inches of him slides off the bed as he pulls on his boxers. He’s got a nice, firm ass that sways slightly as he walks over to the door. I pull a soft cotton shirt from his bedside drawer, slipping it on.
Before I get time to process it, a huge golden Labrador jumps right onto the bed, trapping me down.
Evan
I might pass out.
I might die.
Or I might throw up. I don’t know.
All I know is that Scarlett Voss is playing with my dog in my bed, giggling and my heartbeat won’t stop beating a million miles an hour.
“You like dogs?” I ask when the words come. Mila has basically squashed her, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Scarlett’s red face pops up under Mila’s tummy.
“Ilovethem! I didn’t get a proper look at her last time,” she replies, gasping as Mila pins her down again. “My dad never let us get one because Henry gets too irritable with fur.” She manages to sit up next to me, and Mila lies across both of our legs, her head in Scarlett’s lap.
“You’re such a good dog, aren’t you?” she coos in a sweet baby voice. “What’s your name, sweet girl?”
“Mila,” I say through a grin. She looks up at me and I swear I see tears in her eyes.
“Mila,” she repeats, cooing again as she scratches her on the head. “You’re just so cute. I want to take you home.”
