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His moans are the best part, as if he’s feasting on my release and driving him closer to one of his own without me touching him. He sounds as obsessed as I’ve always been. Once it’s over, I collapse against him, my head resting against his shoulder. He slides his hands from my pants and wraps his arms around me.
“I need your tight hole,” he says, his voice shaky. “Don’t think about anything else, Evie. Not the future. Not the past. Nothing. Just us right now.”
I wish I could do that, give him what he wants. I wish I could be that woman, but with the orgasm passed, I know I will have to tell him the truth.
Or a truth, at least.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Brian
When I reach for her shirt, she leans back, placing her hand on my chest, but unlike last time, she doesn’t pull me closer. She pushes me away, her fingernails pressing against my skin.
“B-Brian,” she says.
It’s a challenge not to leap on top of her, free my manhood, tear off her pants, and push her panties aside. I’d push in deep and hard and, with the passion of ownership, tell her she’s mine and will always be mine.
“Don’t say anything else,” I tell her.
If we start talking, it will lead to Roger, Janine, Uncle Brian, and the betrayal.
“Just us, just now…”
“Don’t you think I want that?” she snaps. “But I can’t, okay?”
She stares wide-eyed at me. It’s as if she’s waiting for me to understand something without her needing to say it. It’s as if she’s hiding something and desperate for me to somehow just know it.
“I can’t,” she repeats. “Not like this. I always thought… it… would be… special.”
Suddenly, I get it—what she’s hinting at. I stand abruptly, staring down at her. Braidless, her hair is wild and beautiful, her face vibrant and full of lust-filled life. Her fingers stray to her pants, slowly buttoning them up.
“You’ve never had sex before,” I whisper.
My balls ache. My manhood has never been more solid, my entire length coated in precome with how much is leaking hotly from my tip.
She nods, biting her lip. “Got it in one.”
This is so, so good. It means no other man will ever fucking touch her. It means that when I claim that tight hole, I’ll be the only one, the only man she’ll ever know. When she gives herself to me… Hell, I’m speaking out loud. I stand over her radiating heat, staring down into her naïve eyes.
“When I give myself to you,” she says, tilting her head. “Then what?”
I’m about to say it. It’s like this force inside me, this obsessive monster that won’t stop until Evie knows the truth.
Behind her, on the wall, there’s a photo of me and Roger as teenagers. We’re at the carnival, our arms thrown over each other’s shoulders, beaming at the camera.
Evie turns and follows my gaze. When she looks at me again, her expression is dread.
“That’s a nice photo,” she says, rising to her feet.
“It’s the first thing I did when I arrived here. I hung that photo. That was probably the happiest day of my childhood.”
My voice sounds distant and detached. That’s what I have to be. What the hell have I done? What was I about to do? Tell her everything?
“You should go,” I say, moving further away from my emotions, compulsion, and hunger. Shutting down is the only way to deal with this.
“I know,” she says, “but do you want me to?”
“It’s not about what I want,” I snap. “We both know this is messed up. You’re nineteen, Evie. You’re a kid.”
“I’m not a kid,” she says, voice full of firm sass. “Anyway, if you really thought that…”
She stops, biting off whatever she is going to say, as though she doesn’t want to be cruel.
“I don’t literally mean it,” I tell her, “but you’re less than half my age. You’re Roger’s kid.”
“I’m not the one who kissed you.”
There are tears in her eyes. She rubs her cheeks angrily, then sniffles, forcing the sob away. It’s either make her leave or tell her everything. The desire to reveal the truth—she’s mine and always will be, her virginity sealing it—bubbles up inside.
“It’s time for you to go, Evie.”
“Why are you being so cold? Just because I’m a virgin?”
“I’ve asked you to leave.”
“But—”
“Go,” I say bluntly, hating myself but knowing this is the right thing to do. “Now.”
She grabs her bag and picks it up roughly.
“Do me a favor, okay?” she hisses. “Forget this ever happened because that’s exactly what I’ll be doing.”
She storms from the room, leaving me to watch her go, but watching her provokes too much regret and convinces me to chase after her and take her hand.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I’ll have to tell you if you stay. You’re going to be my wife one day, you perfect, beautiful virgin. You’re going to have my children.”
