CHAPTER 27
In my twenty-nine years, I’ve learned a thing or two about sex. Yet, I’ve learned nothing about what just happened between Evie and me.
How could I? It’s not something I’ve ever experienced before. This was not sex; this was a collision of two smoldering souls begging for each other.
It truly was everything.
And I’m utterly terrified.
“Thank you…”
I pull back when those soft, breathless words tickle my shoulder.
“Did you just thank me?” I bite down the chuckle that would probably ruin this moment.
I can’t see the shade of her skin in this dim light, but her little nod makes me wonder if her cheeks are reddening.
“For… sex?” I ask, eyes widening in slight bewilderment.
“For not stopping.”
Oh, that makes more sense. “I should have…” Sighing, I lower myself, brushing the tip of my nose against hers, before I trace down her cheeks, around the curve of her jaw, then the slope of her neck.
The satisfied, feather of a gasp she exhales threatens to get me hard all over again. Not that my cock is particularly soft right now. I’m also reluctant to pull out when I found home inside of her. God save me if I’ll ever have her wrapped around me without a condom. She’ll ruin me. I crave the real feel of her without the barrier, though, I should be thankful for it, because I’m sure I would have blown my load in half a minute without the latex separating us.
I shift up to meet her eyes, and she tightens her grip around me. This time around I do chuckle, and when she attempts to protest my reaction, I press my lips to her swollen ones. Her hold eases and I begin to rise again, breaking the kiss.
“No… don’t leave me,” she pleads, her voice throaty and low, drunk on pleasure.
“I have to take care of you.”
“Leaving me defeats that purpose,” she argues.
“Hell, it’s hard to argue with that. But you need something else right now.”
Before she can protest further, I pull out of her and rise, taking care of the condom when I get in the bathroom. I make quick work of cleaning myself, then soak a clean washcloth under the spray.
“Give me a sec.” She slides out of bed on shaky legs, and disappears in the bathroom for less than a minute, before she comes back and lays back down.
“It’s going to be cold,” I warn Evelyn as I lower myself back onto the bed and give her a few seconds to acknowledge my words before I press the thick cotton onto her. She gasps but doesn’t move.
“Alexa, bedroom lights set to soft,” I order the speaker, and after she confirms, the two bedside lamps turn on to a very dim, warm light.
“Oh, you can control your lights?” There’s such an innocent wonder in her tone as she looks around.
“Yes, it’s a voice assistant and speaker. There, on the dresser.” I point. “You can ask it all sorts of things.”
“I heard of these, but never had the opportunity to try one.”
I want to say something to that, but what can I? They’ve been around for quite a while now, but she’s been living in her car or shoddy motels. Not exactly the place for what I now consider basic technology. I turn my attention to her, her swollen pussy looking fucking delectable before me. But now’s not the time to feast. I wipe slowly, then fold the cloth to an unused part and press it to her, holding it there as I look up into her eyes.
I fight back a flinch when I’m met with her intense gaze. Jesus fuck, she’s beautiful. In this dim light her wild hair in that deep violet looks ethereal, her lips are deliciously swollen, and now I can definitely see a flush on her cheeks.
“Do all men do this to their… umm, after sex.”
She corrected herself. To their what? Fuck friends? Partners? Girlfriends? What exactly are we?
“I really hope so,” I answer, though I feel like an asshole instantly because I haven’t done this nearly as often as I should have. But then again, none of the women I’ve been with were virgins. Or Evelyn. “How does it feel?”
She nods and lies back down, making me miss the eye contact. “A bit sore, but good.” She says before she lets out a soft sigh. “Really good.”
Oh, Christ.
I have to work hard to remind myself that it would be wrong to sink into her again so soon. Even if I only use my tongue or my fingers. I rise and lie next to her before I can convince myself that it would be a good idea, but I make sure to hold the cloth to her.
“No pain?” I ask.
She shakes her head, turning to me, and graces me with those stunning eyes again. Even dark as they are in this dim light, they still work well to shatter my resolve.
“I’m finding it hard to keep my hands off of you right now, Evie darling.”
“Then don’t.” She reaches down, pulls the washcloth from my hand and throws it onto the floor as she turns on her side.
She doesn’t hesitate one bit when she throws her leg over my waist, her heel pressing on my ass as she wraps her body around mine. When her small hand brushes the hair from my face, and her breasts press onto my chest, I give in. I grab her ass, loving how my hand covers so much of that plump cheek, and flip onto my back bringing her on top of me.
She yelps then giggles, and I realize that’s the sound I want to die hearing. That soft giggle that sounds like birdsong on a lazy autumn day is my death song, and I would slowly drown myself right now so I can hear it on a maddening loop.
Like this, straddling me, she’s more sinful than my dominance could ever make her.
She tightens her legs against my hips, and her pussy finds the length of my cock at the same moment her tits brush against my chest, and she crushes her lips against mine. The tips of her bob-cut hair tickle the sides of my face, and I can’t help but dig my fingers into her flesh, pushing my ass up so I can press myself against her warm, soft cunt. I drag my other hand up her back, holding her in a possessive grip as she slowly grinds against me, moaning into my mouth as she rolls her tongue around mine.
Her hands are in my hair, tugging at the curls like she’s guiding me into the motions she needs me in, and with her soft body rubbing against mine, her pussy getting wetter by the second as it rolls against my cock, I realize that I’ve never known this type of intimacy. I’ve done plenty of sexual things, I’ve explored kinks and even experienced light play in Metamorphosis, Morrigan and Lulu’s fetish club. But this feels different. Soft yet intense. Slow yet feverish, and the lack of penetration isn’t tainting the moment. Quite the opposite, actually.
She strokes her tongue against mine, pulling away only so she can nip my lips before she dives back in, and my strokes on her back are turning desperate. The feel of her skin is addictive, the warmth, the goosebumps flaring when I touch her waist, it’s all so intense. I grab onto the back of her neck, holding her to me as our tongues tangle and the urgency of the kiss grows.
There used to be a line separating Evelyn and I… mere days ago. Now, I can’t even distinguish where I end and she begins. I don’t want to. Ever again.
Evelyn Shaw is—
“Mine,” I growl into her mouth, biting her lower lip before soothing it with my tongue, and dive back into the kiss.
That single word melts her body against mine, and the slickness of her pussy drenching my cock threatens to drive me down a path of madness.
Over and over, we kiss and grind against each other, falling in a beautifully brutal rhythm as we make up a song of mewls and groans. I thrust my hips up as I hold her ass down, and she cries out, throwing her head back. We’ll have to do something about that loud mouth of hers when Maya returns, but for now… I want more. I thrust up again, rubbing my length between her wet folds and she meets it with a stroke of her hips, shuddering as she falls back against me. I would call it dry-humping, but there is nothing dry about the drenched seam of Evelyn’s pussy.
I run my hand down the length of her spine before returning to the back of her neck, then thread my fingers in her hair, fisting it.
Evelyn yelps, terror breaking that sound as she slaps frantically at my arm and rips her body away from mine. It happens in two seconds flat and I’m too slow and stunned to catch her when she jumps off, cowering as she backs away to the foot of the bed, before she drops off of it.
“Evelyn, darling, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to—” The rest of the words catch in my throat when I rise to my knees and see her sitting on the floor.
With knees drawn to her chest, her body shakes uncontrollably as she rakes her fingers through her hair in frantic, trembling motions. Her gaze is unfocused, brows drawn together, and pain weaves with fear on her features.
I drop on my knees onto the floor, sliding close to her, careful to not freak her out. “It’s okay. It’s me, Evie darling, you know I won’t hurt you.”
She nods with agitated movements, like she knows it to be true, but her body and mind can’t fully grasp the truth in the words. She still doesn’t look at me, or stop the frenzied combing of her hair.
“You’re safe. No one in this life or the next will ever touch you, will ever catch you, will ever hurt you. You belong to yourself and yourself only.”
She blinks rapidly, the only indication that those words landed somewhere where she understood them.
I bring myself closer to her, in touching distance, but I don’t reach for her.
“Was it the hair?” I ask.
Her movements slow, and I notice the tears brimming her eyes some already streaking down her cheeks. Fury fills me for the men who did this to her, who taught her how to fear, who showed her what pain is. But now is not the time to add to the revenge plot I’ve been planning for a while. They will pay in blood, and I’ll surely make even The Carver himself proud.
Until then… “Can I touch your arm?”
She nods, the gesture still strained with the shuddering of her body. I reach for her upper arm, stroking slowly up and down. She’s cold. Like we never even touched for the last hour.
“I’m going to come closer, and hold you to me, okay?”
She takes a few seconds longer to respond now, but then she nods again. I slide closer, but turn my back to the bed, and lean over, wrapping my arms around her. She’s stiff even through the shaking but doesn’t pull away. So I gather her closer and when she doesn’t protest I slide my arm under her knee and lift her to my lap, holding her against my chest as I lean against the bed. With slow, soothing motions I stroke her arm and back, and as her body relaxes, her breathing sounds louder.
I don’t speak for a long time because no words should force this situation. I’ll be what she needs—warmth, safety, a shoulder to cry on. I’ll be anything she wants me to for however long she needs me. I never had the chance the last time I could have been needed like this, when Hanna was dying on that cold concrete floor, and I was there too late. This is it, my second chance. I will not fuck this up.
Her body has softened, her shaking stops, and even her breathing has leveled. But she stays on my lap, sinking just a little deeper into me with every minute that passes.
“I’m sorry…” she whispers.
“Don’t you dare apologize for this.” I think my tone came through a bit too harsh.
She nods against my shoulder anyway.
“It was the hair,” she confirms.
“Can I ask why?”
She breathes in deeply and swallows it before she answers. “It’s how they caught me. How they held me, controlled me. It was used against me… viciously. I should have told you I have a thing for…”
“I know now, don’t worry. I will never do it again.”
She shifts and raises her head to meet my eyes. “Maybe someday,” she whispers, sweet hope in her voice.
I smile, because how could I not. She’s the strongest person I know, because surviving and moving on with life after what she experienced could break most people.
“Maybe, but only if you do it for yourself, not me. Not anyone else.”
She nods, then looks down, a tinge of embarrassment curling her eyebrows.
A thought crosses my mind.
“Is this why you cut your hair?” I ask.
She nods but doesn’t meet my eyes this time around. Instead, she lays her head back down on my shoulder, and settles more comfortably into me.
“I would have chopped it all off if I didn’t hate short hair on me. This bob haircut felt like a good medium… even if someone caught it, it would be harder to hold it for long, since it can’t be wrapped around a fist.”
Heat fills my chest and uncomfortable tension pulls at my temples. What a fucked up world we live in where women have to change their bodies to protect themselves. Me and my Sanctum aren’t saints, but we understand the sanctity of innocent life.
Which is another reason I shouldn’t keep Evelyn. She deserves the simple, calm life, deep in the suburbs with a white picket fence, and cupcakes baking in the oven. Not this, not steeped in crime and constant weariness. We may not deal in human life, but we blackmail, we launder money, we murder. So much murder. We aren’t much better, and she deserves better.
“I’m sorry you had to do this to find comfort. Safety.”
“It’s okay. I love it with this color. I never had the opportunity before, but now… I can finally express myself. Though, the cut was actually Maddox’s idea.”
Somehow, I’m not surprised it was. After all, he keeps his hair buzz cut for a reason.
“It suits you. Color and all. The clothes too. Of course, you look like a goddamn wet dream in leather trousers, but beyond that, you look like yourself.”
She giggles and I swear the sound is music to my fucking ears. She’s gonna be okay. I finally breathe easier, I didn’t realize how tense my body actually was.
“Thank you,” she says. “This has always been the style I’ve been attracted to. It’s quite a privilege to be able to dress like this now. Someday I will have a house lathered in dark walls, maximalist corners drenched in gold frames, plants, and weird art, and a deep-emerald kitchen.”
“Really? Is that your dream?”
“Well… actually my dream is to open a bakery.”
I pull her away enough for her to see me properly. “That shouldn’t be a dream, Evie darling, that should be a plan. You would have Queenscove at your feet with your indulgent cakes.”
I catch the soft blush heating her cheeks as she averts her gaze for a moment.
“Thank you. But I’m not sure anyone would actually want my cakes. You see, sunshine and butterflies are not what I like to make.”
Well, now I’m intrigued. “What do you like?”
“For lack of a better term, I’d love to own a Gothic bakery. Deep gemstone colors for frostings and icing, intricate designs, anything from lace-work to anatomical hearts and skulls. Of course they can be cute, but… a different kind of cute.”
I smile, having absolutely no trouble imagining what a fantastic job she would do. I saw her cake, she might have kept it classic, but her technique looked flawless. Even for my untrained eye. “Your kind of cute,” I agree.
“I guess so.”
“How about we get back into bed, and you can tell me more about it?”
She beams then, her smile wide, her eyes filled with excitement. I have never seen this look in her gaze before. Like she finally has permission to think and dream for herself, though the limitation is self-imposed. It’s intoxicating and infuriating at the same time. She deserves the fucking world, and she deserves to live all her dreams, not avoid conjuring them.
I pull her up with me, settle ourselves in bed, and nestle her in the crook of my arm, so she can share all her dreams with me.