CHAPTER 36
Evander
Fuck me.
There’s a bare, wild-haired sex vixen straddling me. And I don’t know whether to laugh or cry or tell her the truth.
That I didn’t fucking know.
I told myself a long time ago that I would never fall in love. That it wasn’t something I was capable of. Because I don’t do intimacy. I’ve never had any interest in investing a lot of time and energy into something that has no chance of working out.
I feel something shifting in me. I detect a willingness to ask questions where there’s only ever been stubbornness. All it took was the storm of the century and being stuck in a remote surveyor’s shack with Phoebe Travis.
A woman who’s as insightful as she is gorgeous, and isn’t the least bit afraid to share what she sees in me.
She’s calling my bluff. She’s not paying any attention to my warnings.
She really is a badass.
Phoebe’s messy curls catch the firelight. Her cheeks and lips are flushed to the same dusky pink as the perfect nipples on those spectacular tits. Her body is a delicate collection of curves and hollows, firm but not thin, with a hint of muscle definition in her arms, belly, and thighs.
It’s the body of a woman who’s grown up doing honest ranch work out of a sense of duty, and then rides horses and hikes the Sierra Nevada foothills because it brings her joy.
That’s when it hits me.
Phoebe radiates joy. That’s the source of all the inner beauty I see whenever I look at her. When I look at what’s in front of me at this moment.
Yes, she’s objectively gorgeous. If I saw her walking down the streets of downtown San Diego, I’d sure as fuck notice her. Even if she were in a group of hard-bodied California blonds in miniskirts and heels.
She would be the one who fascinated me. I’d stare at her effortlessly pretty face, take in the graceful way she moves, and wonder why, in all my world travels, I hadn’t managed to meet someone this perfect.
Perfect for me.
I guess that’s because she wasn’t anywhere in the world. She was from here.
Home.
I am swamped with a feeling I can’t name. I want her. I need her. I want to give her anything and everything she might desire.
I only hope I have it to give. What if I can’t?
Or won’t?
“Phoebe.”
“Yes, please,” she whispers, bestowing a smile worthy of the seductress she’s just become. She places a fingertip on my lips. “But there’s something I’d like to do first.”
And with that, my sweet sex vixen slithers her way down my body. She crouches low, sticks her ass into the air, and leaves kisses all over me. Across my chest. Her hot and slick tongue flicks my nipples.
A jolt of electricity shoots through me.
She continues down my sternum. Her lips leave warm kisses on my solar plexus.
I ache for her.
She’s moving down the center of my stomach. On her way toward Captain Blackbeard.
Really? I’ve named my dick? What’s happened to me?
I raise up to watch her. Her hair brushes my skin as her mouth slips along my flesh. She is so soft against me, silky.
Her back is arched and that lovely ass of hers looks almost too good to be true.
I let my head drop to the blankets.
Oh, holy fuck.
Her mouth captures me in wet velvet, moving up and down my dick. This isn’t a blow job. This is Phoebe, an extension of the loving and sexual creature I can’t believe I’ve been lucky enough to encounter.
To get to know.
“Oh, shit,” I mumble.
She lifts her mouth from me, which is not what I wanted. I make the necessary course correction with a gentle press of my palm to the back of her head.
“Don’t stop.”
“Just tell me if I do something you don’t like.”
I throw an arm over my face and laugh. This girl is killing me.
Something I don’t like?
Something I don’t love?
I don’t fucking think so.
“It’s good,” I tell her. “So fucking good.”
I don’t know what this is. Why it’s so different? Of course, women have given me head, and some of it has been spectacular. Top-shelf.
But because this is Phoebe, it’s not something to be ranked or rated.
It’s deeper. Hotter. More important.
Exactly right.
Her mouth is a satin embrace. Soft suction and hot licks followed by the barest scrape of her teeth. She’s taking most of me in her mouth, then into her throat, and letting me slip free. Then she’s back at it.
I reach down to touch her again because I have to. She clasps my hand in hers and holds onto me, intent on giving me this pleasure.
Why is she like this? Why is she doing this for me? Why is she giving me so much of herself?
Not as part of an unspoken transaction, but simply because she has always loved me.
Me.
The self-righteous prick in the fancy suits. The grumpy hard-ass.
I don’t deserve her.
But maybe that’s what she was getting at—that if I’d ever let go of the easy button, I’d figure out that I just might deserve what she’s offering.
My brain is incapable of taking this thought further. Because the pleasure is so extreme that it’s become painful. I’m on the edge of cumming.
I’m burning to let go.
But I don’t want to cum in her mouth the first time. I want to come in her pussy as I look into her eyes. See her. Feel her. Give my seed to her.
This is… it’s new. Different. I honestly don’t know what the fuck is going on in my head and heart. I’m a mess.
All I know is that I have to have her.
“Come here, my pretty Phoebe.”
I reach down and grab her shoulders, then bring her back up the length of my body.
“Lie down on me, baby.”
“You didn’t like that?”
“I liked it too much. C’mere.”
I pull her so that her face is over mine. I grab the sides of her head and kiss her. I want her to know. I have to make sure she understands.
Her mouth opens to me. I hear her moan as she accepts the force of this kiss.
She’s hot as hell. She wants me. I just don’t want to break her heart.
Whatever happens, I swear to fuck that I will never break this girl’s heart.
I roll with her. Bring her underneath me as my lips stay linked with hers. I feel her body soften under me. Her legs fall open. I grab her behind her knees and raise my lips from hers. So that I can see her as I lift her ass off the blankets.
Because of her stitches. And because I want to fuck her this way, in my control, moving the way I want her to.
The chain of command she asked for.
I look down at her, checking to make sure she’s good. Phoebe’s eyes aren’t closed or glazed over. She’s not zoned out. She’s looking right at me, mouth swollen and glistening, her hair spread out behind her head like an angel’s halo.
Phoebe’s an angel. My angel.
“I’m going to fuck you.”
Her lips blossom into the most knowing smile I’ve ever had the pleasure to witness. “Yes, you are,” she says.
I line myself up. I look down at her small and tender pussy and hope she can take me. Then with one smooth thrust of my hips, I glide into the soft vise of her body. She clenches around me. She melts beneath me.
I could cum right this second if I didn't have the discipline to stop myself.
She lets out a hiss of surprise.
“Are you okay?”
I feel her belly rise and fall with laughter. All that does is make her pussy squeeze and pulse around me.
I laugh, too. This is crazy. Ridiculous. Funny because it’s so unexpected.
She knows it, too. It’s more than okay. It’s just right.
Perfect.
We are perfect.
And it’s too much.
I lift her legs even higher and sink in all the way.
Beautiful Phoebe cries out, her eyes locked on me. Staying right here with me.
Holy fuck.
So good. Too good.
I lose myself in her softness and set out to give her everything she wants.