“You’ve got to be quiet,” he whispers, his voice rough. He pulls my nipple between his teeth, biting down on the sensitive flesh. I cry out again, shifting in his lap. “You’re not very good at following instructions, are you?”
“No,” I bite out, rolling my hips until I feel the friction of his pants against my bare pussy. I can tell I’m soaked, and I’m probably making a mess of his pants already.
“Mm.” He kisses up my chest. My collarbone. My throat. My jaw. My mind is spinning, my vision blurring. I grind into him again, and his hips buck up, hitting my favorite spot. He brings his lips to my ear. “I want to taste you. Please can I taste you?”
“Someone’s eager,” I tease.
“Someone’s also dripping on me right now.” The laugh that leaves him is dark, and it sends a shiver through my entire body. He pulls up the skirt of my dress to my hips, exposing me to him. He runs his fingers along the inside of my thigh, a light touch that makes me shudder. “I need to taste you, Scarlett. I need to feel you. Need to taste how badly you want this.”
Neednotwant.
His thumb brushes against my core, and I drop my head to his shoulder, my body shaking with anticipation. “Evan . . .”
“Will you let me?” he asks softly. When I don’t respond, he presses his thumb against the swollen bundle of nerves, and I moan into his shoulder. “You’re going to have to speak louder than that, baby.” He swipes his thumb against me again, and if I’m not careful, I could come just like this. Then he asks again, his voice deeper, slower, “Do you want me to taste you?”
“Yes. Please. God. Yes,” I say, stringing together the only words I can think of. I finally pull back from him, and he smirks at me. The darkness of the car emphasizes his features that much more—his slightly crooked nose, those so-green-they-might-kill-me eyes, that fucking mouth. I want it everywhere.
“Clean up the mess you made first,” he demands, pulling his hands away from me and leaning back.
I do as he says, sliding out of his lap and with the little light in the back of the car, I can see the wet spot I’ve left on his crotch. Right on his crotch. My grins turns evil, knowing this is going to be worse for him than it will be for me.
He watches me carefully, and I lock my hands behind my back. I stick my tongue out flat, keeping my eyes on his before I start to lick my arousal off his pants. It would be easier if his erection wasn’t in the way, poking through his pants, but it does make it more fun.
“Fuck, angel.” Evan shuts his eyes, dropping his head back.
Well, that just won’t do. I tut, shaking my head. “Eyes on me,” I command, laughing quietly when he curses again.
The taste of my own arousal on my tongue and the look on his face when his gaze meets mine has all my nerves singing with pleasure. I’ve never felt this good doing something so dirty before, and I love it. Even when I know I’ve cleaned up most of it, I still continue tracing the length of his shaft with my tongue until he’s whimpering beneath me.
“I-I think you’re done,” he says, breathless.
I tilt my head to the side. “Am I?”
He doesn’t respond to my teasing, and instead, he hauls me back up onto the seat, replacing our positions, and kneels in front of me. He spreads my legs wide, a whoosh of cool air pushing against me, and I lift up my hips to give him better access.
“Now, are you going to let me taste you, Scarlett?” he rasps, running his hands up my thighs before he tugs me closer to the edge of the seat. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, struggling to find the words. “Talk to me, angel.”
“Taste. Touch. Please,” I say, panting out the words as he lowers his mouth to my heat. My nails dig deeper into the leather seats, and my heels click together when they lock around his back.
I think Evan Branson might kill me. But I have to say it would be a perfect way to die.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: SCARLETT
Since the trip to Boston, I’ve been feeling a little lighter. Being surrounded by different people, talking about my ideas and the hopes I have for the future didn’t fill me with dread like I expected it to. I was allowed to be excited about the things I’ve achieved and what I’m setting out to do. And I guess having Evan constantly cheer me on didn’t hurt either.
I knew when I got back to NU, I’d have to finally face the music and talk to my parents. I haven’t gone long without speaking to them since the summer, and it’s starting to eat away at me.
I needed the time away from them. I needed to figure things out on my own, forge my own path without their expectations or their rules or their games. I finally have something else to look forward to. Something to work toward.
By the time I’m actually driving to my parents’ house, I feel ready. I mean, notcompletely,but I don’t think I’m ever going to be fully ready. I’ve seen disappointment etched into their features so many times that I’m used to it. There isn’t anything that they could say or do that could hurt me more than they already have.
My parents are talking over music in the kitchen when I walk in. I wait a couple seconds to collect myself before clearing my throat and my mom’s head shoots up in shock.
“Scarlett,” she says, and my dad’s eyes widen. “This is a surprise.”
“This is also going to be a quick visit,” I say, holding my chin high. My parents exchange a look, and I take in a deep breath,feeling the weight of my next words roll off my shoulders as I exhale. “What happened at Christmas was really shitty. I don’t know why you did what you did, and honestly, I don’t think Iwantto know. You don’t trust me, you think I’m somebody you can’t have representing Voss. And though I may never understand that, I think you’re making the right call.”
My dad’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “You do?”
