“Are you sure?”
“I promise I’m good. I’d tell you if I wasn’t.” I nod, and he pulls apart from me to grab a condom from his nightstand. I watch him open it with his teeth and roll it over his length. “Are you sure you want me to fuck you? Because once I do, I really don’t think there’s any going back.”
“I don’t want to go back,” I pant. He nudges himself against me, an entire inch slipping inside me.Finally. I cry out, my hips bucking and my back arching. But he doesn’t move. He just rests there, panting with me. My head tilts back and I swallow. “Please, please,please.”
“So polite,” he murmurs. “Maybe I need to get you like this more often.”
“You can have me like this whenever you want. I just . . . I need you, please.” I feel pathetic, begging for this man to just give me what I want, but I don’t care. After the way he’s looked after me these last few days, the way he’s encouraged me to work on my own designs again, I feel unstoppable. I feel like I deserve this. Deservehim.
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he mutters, and he finally slides himself into me.
I forget how to breathe. I forget where I am. Who I am. I’m a puddle in his hands, something free and loose with no substance. Evan drops his forehead to my shoulder as he pauses, cursing into my neck, and he bites me there. I drag my nails down his back, loving the way it elicits another moan from him when I do.
We stay like that for a second. Just breathing. And breathing. And breathing.
“Good?” I ask, nudging my nose against his forehead.
“So fucking good.”
He finally starts to move then, leaning up off me, pressing his thumb into my hip, slow strokes in and out.
He’s not quiet like I thought he would be. He tells me what feels good for him, how well I’m taking him, how sex has never felt like this with anyone else. I’d tell him the same if I could speak without crying out and begging for more.
He picks up his pace and his hand brackets my jaw, tilting my head up to him as he kisses me deeply. “You’re perfect, Scarlett,” he whispers, pulling back to run his thumb over my bottom lip. “Tell me you understand.” I nod, gasping when he pistons his hips with a hard, punishing thrust. His thumb slips into my mouth, and I suck. He lets out a shuddery breath, dropping his forehead to mine as he takes his thumb out. “I need you to say it.”
“I’m perfect,” I pant out.
He grins. “Good girl.”
I’m lost between space and time as Evan continues worshipping my body like it’s the only thing he knows how to do. He’s an expert at making me feel good. He knows just how to get me rightthere, to have me dangling off the edge of the cliff before pulling back. I don’t know if he’s doing it intentionally, ifhe really wants to drag this out, but I don’t care. The push and pull is so painfully delicious that I’d stay here all night if we have to.
As if he’s read my mind, he mumbles into my neck, “I want this to last forever.”
I chuckle. “Me too.” He pulls out of me slowly, only to go back in deeper, just as slow. I moan, gripping the sheets beside my head as Evan leans back and holds my hips, watching himself push in and out of me. “But,” I add, “it would be really great if you could let me come now.”
He grins evilly, running his hands up from my waist to squeeze both of my breasts. He teases a nipple between his fingers, using just the right amount of pressure as I use one of my hands to play with my clit. The sensations are all too much. The feel of him deep inside me, the fingers on my nipples and my clit, the look on Evan’s face as he looks down at me like I’m a painting in a gallery.
“There you go, baby,” he mutters, “come for me.”
I explode around him, not having the chance to catch my breath as he chases his own release, pushing into me quicker until he orgasms too. He groans when he finishes, slipping out of me with a whimper as he collapses beside me, pulling me over him. I lay my head on his chest, feeling the way his heart beats against my ear, and he trails his finger up and down my spine.
“I didn’t think that would be so good,” I mumble, kissing his chest.
He laughs. “Did you have low expectations?”
“No. I had high ones. You just exceeded them.”
“I’ve always been an overachiever,” he says coyly, pushing my hair out of my face.
“Very funny.” I press a quick kiss to his lips, sitting up beside him. “I think we need to shower again.”
“But no funny business this time,” he demands, pointing a finger at me. I can’t help it. I bite down on his finger, and he gasps. “You can go shower alone.”
“What? I was kidding. That’s not fair,” I exclaim, trying to climb over him, but he doesn’t let me. Instead, he pins me to the bed, holding my wrists above my head.
“It is,” he says, grinning. “You need to be punished if you want to keep acting like a brat.”
I lift my hips up to his. “Maybe you could punish me in other ways.”
