27. Sammy
27
SAMMY
M y eyes keep drifting to the heavy ring on my finger. It’s beautiful and so unlike the impersonal diamond I was wearing only a handful of days ago. Part of me feels a little numb. So much has happened in such a short span of time that it all feels a little like a dream or a nightmare.
It feels like it’s been years, not less than two weeks, since Drew got down on one knee at the airport and asked me to marry him. I’d said yes because the life I knew I’d have with him would have been predictable and easy, albeit not truly mine.
Now, only days later, I’m engaged to a terrifyingly intense man who wants to own me, claim me, and brand me for the entire world to see. Nothing about a life with him will be easy, and honestly, despite saying yes when he told me I was marrying him, I’m not sure I’ve actually agreed to anything since he let himself into my room and fastened his name to my ankle.
Being with Evan is like being swept along after a tsunami. The current is so strong and so determined to move in one direction that there’s nothing you can do but try to keep your head above water.
I wasn’t lying when I told him I love him. I do. I think I always have, but having him love me in his brutally dominating way is both everything and nothing like I imagined it would be. I’ve never said the words out loud, but I’ve always been a little jealous of Starling and Sebastian’s relationship.
I don’t condone all of the awful things he’s done to her, but having someone love you so much that they’re prepared to do literally anything to have you, and keep you, has made me long for someone to want me with even a tenth of the intensity that Sebastian wants my bestie.
Now that I have it, I hate it almost as much as I love it. I cried and begged him not to punish the guy who I used to taunt him with at the party, but knowing that Evan is willing to go scorched earth on a stranger just for putting his arm around me makes me so hot.
It’s a heady feeling to have so much power, even though wielding it would only ever be bad. A part of me—a fucked-up corrupt part—wonders what else he’d do to keep me. When he’ll stop punishing the people around us and start punishing me, and if I’ll like it as much as I think I will.
Accepting that Evan and I are together, that we’re getting married, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it has settled something inside of me. He’s told me more than once that he’ll never let me go, and he’s not bluffing or exaggerating.
Sebastian, Clay, and Hunter are all possessive bastards, but if forced, they’d allow their wives at least the illusion of space and distance, but Evan wouldn’t. I’m his now, and we both know it.
Despite not being able to feel a tracker in my neck, I’d lay money on there being one on me somewhere. He’s drugged me at least once when he tattooed his name on my skin, so it’s not dumb to assume he probably tagged me somewhere at the same time. He did something to ensure that Drew dumped me, even though he knew I was already planning to break up with him. He’s crossed every line there is, and yet instead of being entirely appalled, part of me feels…cherished.
Love like this—love like Evan feels and expresses—is so all-consuming that it can either destroy you or elevate you. Starling, January, and Bunny all allowed this kind of love to destroy them even though they each came back stronger, more capable, and fucked up enough to want and need their husband’s intensity. But I’m different. I may have balked at the way Evan was willing to express his love at the start, but being his has never truly fazed me. Navigating our life together may be challenging, but I have a feeling it’ll be worth it.
Carrying me into the kitchen, Evan places me down on the dining table, then pulls his cell out and taps at his screen. Moments later, a male voice fills the kitchen.
“Son,” Evan’s dad answers.
“Hey, Dad. Do you have a minute?” Evan asks.
“Of course.”
“Sammy and I are engaged.”
“Congratulations! It took you long enough. Do I need to call the lawyers?”
“What would he need a lawyer for?” I ask, wondering if I’ll be expected to sign a prenup.
“Hello, sweetheart,” Harry coos.
“Hi, Harry,” I say. I like Evan’s dad a lot. Father and son are a lot alike, except Evan has a darker aura than Harry’s happy-go-lucky one.
“I asked if he needed a lawyer, just in case you called the cops on him or something. I know the boys’ brand of love can sometimes get a little…extreme.”
I laugh. “Extreme. Yeah, I think the word you’re looking for is illegal.”
“Welcome to the family, sweetheart. I’m over the moon to have you as a daughter. Cass is taking a nap right now, but I’ll let her know the good news once she wakes up.”
“Thanks, Dad. We’re having an engagement dinner at the house on Saturday night, so if you could spread the word and warn everyone to be on their best behavior,” Evan chides with a chuckle.
“Will do. Are Grant and Elizabeth flying in on the jet?” Harry asks.
“Yes. I’ll give the pilot a call and schedule it later.”
“I’ll sort it. I’ll send the details to Grant’s PA.”
“Thanks, Harry,” I say.
“It’s Dad now, Sammy,” he tells me.
“You’re too hot for me to call you Dad without it getting weird,” I blurt, instantly regretting my words as my cheeks heat.
Both Harry and Evan’s laughter only make me even more embarrassed.
“Bye, Dad,” Evan says, still chuckling as he ends the call.
“I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I just said that.” I cringe, covering my face with my hands.
“I don’t care if you think my dad is hot,” Evan says, his lips curved into a wide grin. “My dad and I look a lot alike. At least I’ll know you’ll still want me in twenty years’ time.”
“I want you now,” I whisper, leaning forward to press my lips against his.
“I know you do,” he says, lifting his cell and checking something before his grin becomes lascivious. “Lie back, wife.”
“I’m not your wife yet,” I protest, but I’m smiling.
“Then this will be good practice for when you are.”
With a hand in the middle of my chest, he gently pushes me back until I’m lying across the table with my legs hanging off the edge.
Smirking, Evan pulls out a chair, then sits, positioning himself between my legs. “Let’s get you a little more comfortable,” he purrs, hooking his fingers into the waist of my yoga pants and slowly peeling them down my legs until they’re hooked around my ankles.
“The others will be home soon,” I warn, but I’m grinning too.
“Then you need to come quickly, don’t you?”
Yanking my panties to the side, he pushes a finger into my pussy and licks a path through my folds. The moment the flat of his tongue laps at me, I throw my head back and groan. I don’t care what anyone says, there is very little in life that feels better than having your pussy licked, and Evan’s tongue is almost as talented as his cock.
Slowly thrusting his finger in and out of me, he adds a second, flicking my clit with the tip of his tongue as he scissors his fingers, stretching me while he licks me. I jump when his other hand parts my ass cheeks and a finger starts to probe at my ass, using my own arousal as lubricant to push past the tight ring of muscle.
“Oh fuck,” I moan, arching my back and pushing my pussy into Evan’s face, needing him to stop teasing and make me fucking come.
With his tongue in use, he can’t dirty talk like he usually does, and I miss the filthy words he says and the way my own embarrassment and shame only heighten my pleasure. As if he can read my mind, he lifts his face from my pussy and looks up at me, his eyes filled with wicked delight.
“Look at you, Wild One, spread out like a fucking meal for me. Once we’re married, maybe I’ll start each day like this. Tasting your greedy pussy so I can see how many times you need to be bred each day.”
My body clenches at his words, and a knowing smirk tugs at his wet lips. “Oh baby, I felt that. I felt your cunt tighten when I talked about breeding you. I know you’re empty and craving my cum, but don’t worry. Later, I’ll fuck you hard and deep and make you beg me to put my baby in your belly. You’ll take load after load of my cum and then once you’re plugged and full, you can thank me for filling you up, like the good little broodmare that you are.”
I come so hard, my ears ring, and my vision darkens.
Blinking back to reality, I find Evan repositioning my now wet panties over my mound and tugging my pants up. His dick is visibly bulging through his pants, but he’s clearly not planning to fuck me.
A part of me wants to ask him about the breeding dirty talk, but it’s not like I want to get pregnant or like he wants to start popping out babies. It’s just dirty, kinky bedroom talk that clearly turns us both on. So why yuck both of our yums by questioning that we clearly both get hot and bothered at the idea of him fucking me until I’m pregnant. At least I know if we do ever decide to have a baby, we’ll have a lot of fun trying.
“Fuck, you’re fucking perfect,” he says, pulling me to sit up and claiming my lips with his. His mouth smells and tastes like me, but before I have a chance to pull away, he wraps his palm around the back of my head, keeping me in place while he mouth fucks me, coating my tongue with my own arousal.
“Lick my lips and chin. Get all of your juices off me,” he orders.
“No,” I say, cringing a little.
“You can do it now, or you can do it once the others get here. Either way, neither of us is moving until you lick my face clean.”
Heat suffuses my cheeks, but when I lift my eyes, I can see his excited determination staring back at me. Lifting my hand, I cup his chin with my fingers, then tentatively lean into him and run my tongue up his stubbly chin all the way to his cupid’s bow. The taste is odd but not unpleasant. Coating his lips, chin, and cheeks with my saliva, I lick my taste from his skin, only getting more and more turned on as I do it.
“Good girl,” he praises, slamming his lips to mine and kissing everything I just took from his face right back into his mouth, like he can’t bear parting with any of my taste.
“Fuck,” he rasps when the front door opens and the first of our friends start to arrive.
“Eww, did you just fuck on the table? Because that’s where we eat,” Clay says, his usually gruff voice pitched high and girly, his attempt at disgust laced with amusement.
“No, we didn’t,” Evan says, muttering the word “unfortunately” beneath his breath.
Curling his hands around my hips, he lifts me off the table, turning me to sit in his lap as the front door opens again and the others all file into the kitchen.
“Where have you been?” Starling asks.
“We have news,” Evan announces, talking over Starling, loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Sammy and I are getting married.”
The sound of congratulations fills the air, but in the chaos, I find Starling staring at me with a smug grin etched across her face, and I can’t help it. I smile back.
The next twenty-four hours pass in a blur. Despite the enormous rock I’m now wearing on my finger, Evan’s behavior becomes even more possessive, like now that he’s publicly claimed me, he’s worried someone is going to try and take me from him.
He follows me to my classes like he thinks I’m going to run the moment he takes his eyes off me, even though we both know I won’t. He growls at everyone who comes near me, refuses to let me get ready with Starling, and even locks our bedroom door to keep me all to himself. By the time the valet brings Evan’s car to a stop beside us, he’s practically vibrating with territorial anger.
“What is going on with you?” I snap once he’s sat in the driver’s seat with his door closed. “You almost broke the valet’s wrist when he tried to hold the door open for me.”
“He was staring at your ass.”
“He was not,” I protest.
“You’re mine,” he growls angrily.
“I know.”
“He shouldn’t be fucking looking.”
“I think he’ll spread the word that you almost ripped him to shreds,” I chuckle, amused.
“Do you think it’s fucking funny that he was staring at your ass wondering how it’d feel to shove his dick in there?” he demands, roaring out of the campus gates and driving too fast down the dark, winding roads.
“What? No.” I gasp.
“I haven’t even claimed your ass. I’ll rip out the eyes of anyone who thinks they can take you from me.”
“Evan, you need to calm down. No one is trying to take me from you.”
Throwing the car to the right down a darkened path, he slams on the brakes, and we skid to a stop. “What are you doing? We’re meeting my parents in an hour.”
Lifting his hand, he checks the time on his watch. “Then we have time,” he says cryptically, his voice lethally dark.
“Time for what?” I ask, but honestly, I know what he wants, what he needs. I still shudder with nerves when he opens his door and climbs out, circling the hood until he’s beside me, his beautiful face dark and intense.
Cool evening air hits me when he opens my door, leaning into the car and over me to unclip my seat belt.
“Come,” he orders.
Honestly, I should have expected this. I woke up to him gently rubbing my clit in my sleep. He made me come, but neither of us got the explosive brain melting orgasm we needed. When we got back from class earlier, I’d expected him to fuck me in the shower, but his dad had called, and by the time he’d come to me, I was already out of the bathroom and drying my hair.
I take his hand when he offers it to me and let him drag me from the car, holding me around the waist when my heels get caught on the uneven ground. He half-carries, half-leads me to the front of the hood, forcing me to bend at the waist and press my chest against the warm metal.
“My needy little broodmare wore this dress to give me easy access, didn’t you? Is your empty cunt itching to get pumped full of my cum?” he asks as he slides my panties down my legs, helping me step out of them one foot at a time.
In the past couple of days, Evan has ramped the breeding talk up to the next level, and somehow, his calling me his broodmare has become an endearment. I don’t understand it, but my body gushes with excitement anytime he talks about putting his baby in my belly.
Before Evan, I had no idea that breeding kink was a thing. But it is. It so is, and apparently, we’re both really into it.
“Oh god,” I whine, swaying my hips from side to side, needing him to touch me.
“Fuck, you’re eager, aren’t you? Beg, Sammy. Beg me to tame you. Beg me to put my baby in you. Beg me to breed you.”
“Please, Evan, get me pregnant. Fill me up until we make a baby. Force me. Breed me.”
The moment he utters the word breed , my body starts to gush, and I’m so wet that I don’t need any foreplay to prepare me to take his thick cock. I still feel the stretch and a little pain when he first pushes into me, but I like knowing that it’ll probably always be an effort for my body to accept him.
A needy whimper bursts out of me when his hips hit my ass.
“Fuck, Sammy. Fuck. Lift your hips. Arch your back so I can fuck you hard and fast.”
I do as he says, pushing up onto my tiptoes just enough, that when he pulls back and pushes back in, his dick slips a little deeper, hitting a spot inside of me that hurts, even as it feels amazing.
There’s nothing gentle about the way our bodies are coming together. We’re not making love or staring lovingly into one another’s eyes. This is hard, dirty fucking, and I love it. I love the way he makes me feel like the sexiest thing in the world and like nothing but a womb to be filled all at the same time. I love begging him. I love being unapologetically used, and I love being forced to take everything he gives me.
Grabbing my ass cheeks, he pulls them apart so he can watch himself stretch me, and I moan wantonly, wondering if anyone can see us. If they could, would they look at us and see a couple in love, or would they see a man railing a debased woman pinned face down on his car?
Honestly, I’m not sure I care, but I wish I could see us, and for a moment, I consider asking Evan if we can do this again, but with a camera videoing us at the same time.
“I need you to come for me, Sammy. I need this little breeding hole to clench and tighten and drag my cum out of my cock. If you want my baby in your belly, you need to work for it.”
Jesus, every word that comes out of his mouth is degrading, humiliating, and deliciously filthy. My body responds by obeying him as my internal muscles tighten on his cock, milking him as I surge toward an orgasm that I know would bring me to my knees if I wasn’t bent over a car.
“Fuck, yeah. I can feel how much you want it. Come for me, baby. Come for me.”
The orgasm that I was hurtling toward splinters to life, and I scream a feral wail that bursts from my lips and shatters the dark of the night. My own yells trigger his, and he comes, slamming deep, painfully battering his pelvis into me until I feel the heat of his release fill me.
Instead of fucking me through my orgasm, Evan keeps his hips pressed firmly against my ass. “Evan,” I rasp, my throat dry from screaming.
“Yeah?”
Now that the shards of pleasure are fading away, I can feel the car digging into my thighs uncomfortably. “I need to move. The car’s hurting me.”
“Okay, Mama. Give me two secs,” he coos. A moment later the pressure of his hips lessens, and I feel his dick start to slip out of me. Instead of the slow release of his cum, I feel something being pushed back into me.
“Evan,” I gasp.
“I want to keep all of my cum in you, baby,” he says, his voice low and coaxing.
“I can’t sit at dinner with my parents with a…” I lower my voice, even though there’s no one around to hear us. “Plug in my pussy.”
“You wore it the other night,” he says, spinning me around and lifting me to sit on the hood of his car.
“That was in bed. This is different.”
“Why?” he questions, his brows furrowed in confusion.
“Because us being kinky is fine in the privacy of our bedroom, but not at dinner, in public, with my parents.”
“They won’t know unless you tell them that we’re late because we had to stop so I could mount my perfect little broodmare.” His tone is teasing, but when he winks at me, I don’t smile back.
“I am not wearing a plug to dinner,” I tell him.
“Then we’ll cancel dinner, and you can go straight to your appointment with the dress designer.”
“My parents are at the restaurant waiting for us. We can’t cancel,” I say, pushing my hand between my thighs to reach for the plug.
“If you take that out, you’ll spend the rest of the night sitting on my cock, and I’ll keep replacing all the cum that dripped out of you while your parents and anyone else around us watches. I’ll make you scream over and over while you beg like a greedy fucking breeder whore.”
Jolting back at his crass words and the steely determination in his tone, I tense, feeling my chest tighten. “Evan, you’re taking this too far. It’s just a game.”
“What is?” he questions.
“The whole breeding thing. It’s just a fun bedroom game.”
“Is it?” he asks, his tone dark and determined, and I have no idea what that means.
“Evan be serious. I’m nineteen, and I have an IUD. It’s just a kink. You’re not actually fucking breeding me. Plus, breeding is what animals do. Humans make babies.”
“I doubt you begging me to make a baby would sound anywhere near as depraved and filthy as you begging me to fuck your breeding hole and fill it with my cum.” He deadpans.
“Evan, don’t be an asshole.”
“Then stop provoking me,” he snarls, his eyes narrowing as his gaze slowly drops between my thighs. “The plug stays in until I take it out.”
Pushing upright, I rip myself out of his hold and stomp around to my door, throwing it open and slipping into my seat. Pointedly ignoring him, I slam the door closed, cross my arms, and turn my head, not even glancing at him as he slips into the driver’s seat beside me.
“Sammy,” he says, making my name a warning that I choose to ignore.
“Fuck. Off,” I hiss.
“Sammy.”
“I’m wearing the fucking plug, Evan.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not happy with this fucking attitude from you before we see your parents. Do you need me to fuck you again?”
“No,” I shriek. “Right now, I think I’d be happy never to fuck you ever again.”
“You don’t mean that. Your cunt gets greedy for me after an hour. You’d be begging me for cock after a day.”
“Are you willing to put your money where your mouth is?” I barb, feeling a devious gleam light up my eyes as I slowly turn to look at him.
“What do you need money for?” His brow furrows like he’s worried.
“Not actual money. But time. We don’t have sex again until one of us begs. The first one to crack loses,” I suggest, arching my brows tauntingly.
“And what would you get if you win?”
“Six months to plan the wedding.”
“No.” He laughs. Reaching over, he pushes his hand between my thighs and toys with the base of the plug.
“Why not? Are you worried you’d lose?” I ask, mockingly.
“I know I’d lose. My dick wants back inside of you already, and the feeling will only intensify with every moment until I’m inside of you again. I have zero interest in making a bet that’ll stop me from fucking you.”
I’m mad, and frustrated, and annoyed that he’s refusing to play along with a bet that I know I’ll win. But I can’t help the warmth that fills me at his admission that he wouldn’t cope if I were to refuse him access to my body.
“Urgh, why do you have to be so sweet when you’re behaving like an asshole,” I whine, huffing as I turn my head to look out the window again.
The sound of his amused laughter fills the car as he pulls off the dirt track and back onto the main road.
Thirty minutes later, he slows to a stop on the street opposite the hotel.
“Aren’t you going to use the valet?” I ask.
“In a minute. Spread your legs.”
“Evan, we’re on the street.”
“Then you should hurry up,” he says, his lips pressed together in a firm line.
Glancing around, I’m grateful that the sidewalk is pretty deserted. Biting my lip, I turn to look at him as I slowly part my legs.
“Lift your butt,” he orders.
I do as he says, planting my feet to the floor and lifting my butt out of the seat.
“I’m going to fuck you all night, over and over and over again, and every time I pump my come into you, you’ll thank me, and you’ll wear the plug until I say you can take it out,” he snaps, his tone clearly annoyed.
“Okay,” I agree, willing to say whatever I have to so I don’t have to have dinner with my parents wearing a kinky sex toy.
Instead of just pulling the toy free, he pulls it out, then pushes it back in, fucking me with it, while he finds my clit, pinching and rubbing, hurtling me into a release and forcing me to orgasm so quickly it actually hurts.
Once the smell of sex has filled the car, he slips the plug free, puts it into a bag he pulls from his pocket, and stashes it in the car’s center console.
“Let’s go,” he says, his lips pressed together into a firm line.
“Can I have my panties? Please,” I croak, my voice rough, chest heaving with heavy breaths.
Narrowing his eyes, he reluctantly pulls my underwear from his pocket and holds them out to me.
When I reach out to take them, he snaps his fist shut around it, then jerks his head, motioning for me to come to him.
Leaning over, I press my lips to his. “Thank you for being reasonable.”
“All night, Sammy. I’m not joking. I’m going to be inside you all night long. I’m going to breed you over and over, and even if you beg me to stop, I won’t.”
Nodding jerkily, I feel my core clench and tighten with excited anticipation.
By the time Evan slows to a stop at the valet stand, I’m bristling with need while he looks like he’s the epitome of calmness. Sometimes, I love how unflappable he is. It’s a trait that all of the guys have, and I wonder if it’s something that they were taught as kids. To never show emotion, to treat it as a weakness.
“I’ll get her door,” he tells the valet, straightening his jacket as he opens my door and holds his hand out for me to take.
Placing my palm against his, I let him help me out, leaning into him when he slips his arm around me and pins me to his side.
“I should clean up,” I whisper, as we step into the hotel lobby.
“No,” he says firmly. “If you’d have kept the plug in, then you wouldn’t have to worry about my cum dripping out of you. Now you’ll have to clench to make sure you don’t leave a wet patch.”
It takes every ounce of my self-control not to gasp with outrage when I glance up and find his lips tipped into a smug smile.
“Asshole,” I hiss, but I don’t fight him when he steers us to the restaurant, telling the hostess what name our reservation is under.
Instead of our table being in the main restaurant, the hostess leads us to a small private room where my parents are waiting for us. The moment I see my mom and her eyes widen, I realize my mistake. I’m dressed like California me, not DC me. Her disapproval is plain to see, and I silently curse myself for not dressing more conservatively. There’s nothing wrong with my dress per se. It’s a deep emerald-green bodycon Dolce and Gabbana cocktail dress. The skirt ends below the knee, but the sweetheart neckline and thin straps definitely show off more of my cleavage than my mama would ever deem appropriate.
“Mr. and Mrs. Hartley, it’s lovely to see you both again,” Evan says, guiding me forward as he greets my parents easily.
“Evan, good to see you,” Dad says, standing and stepping around the table to shake Evan’s outstretched hand.
“Hi, Daddy,” I say once he releases Evan, leaning into him and kissing his cheek. The smell of his familiar spicy cologne fills my nose and settles some of my nerves.
“Hello, sweetheart. Congratulations,” Dad whispers.
“Mrs. Hartley,” Evan purrs, lifting my mom’s hand and kissing the back of it smoothly.
“Hello again, Evan,” Mama says, her Southern twang curling around each word.
“Hey, Mama,” I say, wishing my voice didn’t sound as meek as it does as I lean in to her.
“Where on earth did you get that dress?” she whisper yells against my ear.
“There’s nothing wrong with my dress, Mama,” I say a little louder than I intended.
“Well…” Mama starts, her eyes full of censure as she purses her lips. “I suppose California is a little more…loose with their fashion.”
The feeling of her displeasure settles over me like a blanket, and even though I’m nineteen and engaged, I can’t help feeling like a little girl who just got scolded. Her opinion shouldn’t bother me this much. It’s not like it’s new to me. She’s always dressed conservatively and expected me to do the same, but here, in my new life in California, it hurts to feel her judgment.
“California is a lot less…buttoned up than Washington, DC is,” Evan growls, glaring menacingly at my mama as he curls his palm around the back of my neck, rubbing his thumb soothingly over my pulse point.
Guiding me to a chair, he pulls it out for me, pushing it closer to the table as I sit down before taking the seat beside me. Lifting my left hand out of my lap, he entwines it with his, holding it on top of the table and putting my engagement ring very obviously on display.
“Well, now, that is quite a ring,” my dad says, arching his brow as he retakes his seat, his gaze on my hand.
“I find diamonds beautiful but a little bland. An emerald has so much more…depth,” Evan says, his tone smooth and polished.
“May I?” Mama asks, lifting her hand across the table.
Evan releases me, and I hold my hand out to my mama, bracing myself for her response. Instead of disapproval, Mama elegantly holds my fingers and squeezes me gently. “It’s beautiful,” she whispers almost reverently.
“Thank you,” I whisper back, feeling some of the tension melt from my limbs.
When the waiter arrives at the table, Evan orders a bottle of champagne, and the waiter nods and scurries away without asking either Evan or me for ID. I’m guessing it’s probably got a lot to do with the price of the bottle he requested, because if I know Evan, he’ll have ordered an insanely expensive vintage just to prove that he can in front of my parents.
Minutes later, a woman approaches, followed by a waiter carrying an ice bucket and a stand. The woman introduces herself as the hotel’s sommelier, then proceeds to tell us a little about the bottle Evan ordered before offering him some to taste. After taking a small sip, he nods at her, and she quickly pours us each a glass, leaving the rest of the bottle in the ice bucket before leaving.
“A toast,” Evan says, lifting his champagne flute into the air.
Dad quickly follows suit, and Mama mirrors him, even though it’s clear to see they’re both still a little shocked by the way the staff both easily deferred to Evan, even though my parents are both significantly older.
I’m the last to raise my glass, looking at Evan when I eventually lift it into the air.
“To Sammy, my soon-to-be bride. I can’t wait to give you my name and a life full of happiness. I love you. Thank you for being mine.”
“To Sammy,” my parents both say, surprising me when they don’t comment on the shortened version of my name I’ve used since I moved to Cali.
Rolling my eyes playfully at Evan, I blow him a kiss, then bring my glass to my lips and take a sip.
“What time is your appointment with the dress designer?” Mama asks once the waiter has taken our food orders.
“Err…” Turning to look at Evan, I arch my eyebrows at him in question.
“It’s at eight p.m.,” Evan says, turning to answer my mama instead of me.
“And what kind of clothing company sees a bride at eight at night?” Mama questions.
Evan smirks. “Ones who are well compensated. The designer created a dress for my sister when she got married. I knew that Sammy liked her work, so I contacted her and explained the timescale. She was more than happy to make sure that Sammy gets the dress of her dreams.”
“I thought you were an only child?” Dad questions.
“Starling is the daughter of my stepmother, but we’ve known each other since high school. She recently married Sebastian Lockwood, who is one of my best friends and someone I consider a brother. So, she’s a sister by marriage and by family.”
“So, I take it Starling never lived in Alistern House with you?” Mama asks me, her tone haughty.
“Err, no she didn’t. Starling and I met on the first day of school. She knew that the situation at Alistern wasn’t ideal and offered me her old room in Collinswood after she moved into Sebastian’s room with him.”
“And did you ever plan to tell us that you weren’t living in the housing your daddy and I were paying for?” Mama asks, her lips pursed in annoyance.
“Mama,” I say on a sigh.
“Don’t you Mama, me, young lady. You lied to us for months.”
“Mrs. Hartley,” Evan says. “The residents of Alistern House were in an unconventional polyamorous relationship. While it’s not my place to judge, none of us were happy with Samantha living in a house where every room, bar hers, was being used for a constant live sex show.”
The sound of my dad choking on his drink captures all of our attention.
“Say what now?” he coughs.
“I’m not entirely sure what their dynamic was, but the triplets, Amie, Amelia, and Anastasia, were in relationships with the three boys who were also living in the house. After one of the girls got pregnant, all three girls started…” I pause, unsure if I should even tell my parents this when it’s all completely irrelevant now. “Swapping partners. I walked in on them all naked in the shared living space so many times that I used to close my eyes when I stepped foot in the house. The only room that was off limits to them and their naked fun times was my bedroom because I locked it and they didn’t have a key.”
Mama’s horrified gasp is so funny that I have to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing.
“You could have told us,” she hisses, her expression as scandalized as any good Southern mama should be.
“If I’d have told you that my housemates were nymphos and enjoying each other all over the house, you’d have made me come home,” I exclaim.
“Of course we would have. Clearly that school isn’t a suitable?—”
“Mrs. Hartley,” Evan interrupts.
“Sammy only lived there for a few weeks before she moved in with us. So I don’t think there’s any point in dwelling on the past. You’ll meet Starling, as well as my other two sisters, January and Bunny, at the dress consultation later.”
“More sisters?” Mama asks churlishly.
“My brothers’ wives.”
“Wait,” Dad says. “You have more half siblings?”
“No,” Evan says, amused. “My upbringing was a little different than most people’s. I’m sure you’re aware of the friendship and alliance between my family and that of the Lockwoods, Rossbergs, and Jansens. But very few people know that our families all own houses within the same gated plot. I grew up living between mine, Sebastian’s, Hunter’s, and Clay’s homes. I’m almost as close to their parents as I am to my dad. The guys and I may not be related by blood, but we share a kinship that’s as close to a brotherhood as you can get. The guys are my brothers, and their wives are my sisters. So once Sammy and I get married, she’ll be gaining three big brothers who already love and adore her, and her best friends will officially become her sisters too.”
I don’t know if it’s the impressive names Evan just dropped or the assurance that by marrying him I’ll be gaining a protective and influential new family, but it silences my parents, and we fall into comfortable small talk until our food has been delivered.
“I contacted the Wilshore Mansion, and they have space for you to get married there in July,” Mama says, slipping it into the conversation.
“You want me to get married at the same place we went to visit with Drew’s mama?” I ask, horrified.
“It’s a beautiful venue, especially in July,” Mama says, refusing to meet my gaze and the glare I’m flashing her.
“We’ve already decided we’ll be getting married at our new home,” Evan says with a tone of finality.
“But,” Mama starts to protest.
“Mama,” I snap. “You wanted me to get married fast, and that’s what I’m doing. The house is beautiful, and the wedding planner is terrifying enough I imagine she could take over the world if she decided to.”
“But I don’t understand what the rush is. Are you…” She clears her throat and glances down at my stomach. “Do you…need to get married?”
“Mama,” I exclaim. “Are you asking if I’m pregnant?”
Evan’s smooth but icy chuckle fills the small room, silencing everyone. “Mrs. Hartley, I’m going to have to insist that you never suggest that I’m being forced to marry your daughter ever again. I came to you and told you both that I was in love with her and intended to make her my wife. I will not tolerate our relationship being sullied by the notion that I somehow feel obliged.”
“I’m not pregnant, Mama. I’m nineteen, for goodness’ sake, and Evan isn’t the type of man who’s already planned out our entire life together, including naming the children he’d planned to create in a lab, not out of love.” Some of the anger I’d been feeling toward Drew slips into my voice, but inhaling sharply, I exhale and center myself again before I continue. “Evan and I have had feelings for each other since the day we met, but we’ve never acted on them because…well, I’m not sure why we didn’t, but we didn’t. Now that we’ve acknowledged the way we feel about each other, there doesn’t seem any reason to wait to be together.”
“Well, I’ll raise a glass to that,” Daddy says, silencing my mom with a single look. “There’s nothing more beautiful than young love. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness together.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hartley,” Evan says.
“Call me Grant,” my dad tells him.