Chapter 37 Evan
Routine—it’s something I’ve always had. The days were always the same.
Wake up.
Get Leo ready.
Feel bad about myself.
Ignore Alexander's calls—who I’ve now fired, and who Peter has surprisingly agreed to cut all ties with for the lies, meaning the reports from the random women have stopped.
Play football.
Go to sleep.
I used to think I was okay with it, content with it. It felt like the only specks of joy I experienced were when I was alone with my son, completing a puzzle with him or taking him to the soft play area, where I had to shield my face with my cap when it was busy so no one would notice me.
Then Flo showed up, and suddenly everything feels different. Colours are more vibrant. Sounds are more crisp, sharper. The air is more breathable.
And it’s precisely why I’ve set the house up the way it is tonight, with flowers everywhere, and the kitchen table adorned with a tablecloth, my fanciest cutlery, and tall, white candles.
Flo is due back any minute, having spent the afternoon at the shop, or her shop. It’s still a mess, but she’s having the entire place renovated, and was going through her plans with the construction workers.
I’m making the final tweaks to the herby chicken in the oven when she waltzes in, the dungarees she’s wearing covered in dust. “I’m home!”
God, I’ll never get tired of her calling this place hers.
“Evan… what is this?”
“A night all about you. To celebrate you finally realising you were your true self all along, and you never needed to go and ‘find’ her.”
It’s true. I’ve been advertising the opening of the shop, and have received a ton of pre-orders already, from prom dresses to baby clothes.
That gets her grinning. “Where’s the grumpy, I don’t give a fuck about anything, Evan West gone?”
“Oh, he’s still very much alive and well for everyone but you, trouble.”
“Where’s Leo?”
“Spending the evening with Uncle Bennett."
“And you’re not worried he’s going to come back with an attitude?”
I grin. “I’m pretty sure he’s already picked one up from you, Florence.” Pulling out her chair, I say, “Come and sit down.”
“Evan, this looks absolutely amazing, and thank you, but my outfit is covered in dirt.”
My eyes trace her form before saying, “Take it off then.”
Her throat bobs, and my jeans tighten. She will always look beautiful to me, even when covered with the grit of building.
Her blues zap in a teasing way. “Sure, good idea, I’ll just eat without them.” Her clothes melt away, leaving her in nothing but her matching pink bra and panties, and she slips into the chair I’m gripping onto with white knuckles, purposely brushing her ass up against my hand.
A groan forms in my throat. This isn’t what I meant. I thought she’d head upstairs to get changed into something else.
“Flo, I—”
The timer for the chicken pings, and I’m pulled from my fantasy of pulling everything off this table and sinking into Flo, my legs moving on autopilot to dish us up some food so I don’t do just that. Not yet. The food will get cold. And I want to show her how proud I am of her.
Her gaze traces me between bites. Flo leans forward, the action making her already plump breasts push up, and I snap.
This woman knows exactly what she’s doing, especially when she stands and fills her glass of water using the sink faucet across from the table, giving me a great view of her round ass that seems to be looking even plumper these days from all the heavy lifting she’s been doing around her soon-to-be shop.
“Flo, I’m trying to be romantic, here.”
“And I appreciate it very much, Evan, but I can’t lie and say I wasn’t desperate for you the entire time I was at the shop today, and couldn’t focus because I was imagining you ripping my clothes off and fucking me senseless the second I walked in that door.” Her smile widens.
“You need to eat something,” I tell her, but when she responds with, “Yeah, your dick,” I rub a hand down my face and laugh.
“Holy fuck, woman.”
Her stare is seductive, pulling me into a whirlpool.
That’s it.
“Okay, I can’t take this anymore.” I drop my fork, stalk towards her, and hoist her up into my arms. Placing her on the table, avoiding the burning candles, I step between her legs and kiss her.
“For someone who prides themselves on it, you actually have very little self-control, West,” Flo giggles.
“Give me some credit. You knew exactly what you were doing.”
Her bra is ripped off in a second, and my free hand massages her breasts while the other works on my jeans and underwear.
We explore each other’s bodies like we’ve never seen them before, even though just the other night I was bringing her to the edge with my tongue in our bedroom.
Because this house is hers now, and she’ll never be moving back into that crappy old cabin.
We’ll turn it into a giant playhouse for Leo. There’s no use for it anymore.
No more nannies.
My cock glides against her wet panties, before I hook my finger into them and pull them to the side, coating my dick in her juices. My head rubs against her clit, and within a moment, she’s quivering.
“Shit, yes, Evan!”
Her muscles jolt, spasm and pulse as she accepts my pleasure, stretching her legs wider. I lean down and take her clit into my mouth, my teeth scraping against it for a brief moment before I go back to flicking it with my tongue. She’s sweet like honey. My taste buds tingle.
“Don’t stop, Evan. You’re so fucking good.”
This woman really knows how to test me, and before her orgasm peaks, I pull away, leaving her with a pout.
I chuckle. “You said you were imagining me fucking you senseless?”
I get a nod in return.
“Well, how about we make it a reality, then?” Our hips collide, and I work into her at a pace that has her nails raking into my scalp. Seeing her this way is like a fucking drug. I’m hooked. “Tell me who’s fucking you right now. Tell me who will fuck you for the rest of your life.”
“You, Evan. Only you.” She’s breathless, body shaking.
Her pussy is so wet, so warm around me.
“Fuck, you’re so unbelievably beautiful, Flo. So fucking perfect. Are you going to come already?”
I take her legs and wrap them around my waist, letting me hit her sweet spot that she knows she won’t be able to last in for more than a minute. My hips roll.
Flo raises her chin in challenge, which makes me raise a brow. She presses her lips together, fighting a smile.
“You think you can hold off that orgasm, Flo? Is that what you’re trying to do? You’re a filthy girl.” My thrusts strengthen. “Let’s see if you can, then.”
Her eyes squeeze shut.
“Nope, let me see those pretty blues of yours.”
Adhering to my request, Flo meets my gaze.
I’m so in love. So in love with her eyes. With the way she looks at me. With the way she smiles at me.
“Holy shit, Evan, I… I…”
“Want to come?” I grit out, hands curving over her hip bones. “Then come, baby. I know you have to.”
“Evan,” she whimpers with glassy orbs, wet slapping noises filling the kitchen.
“Flo,” I say in the same tone, unable to hold off any longer.
We both erupt, the sound of our harmonious grunts and moans reaching my ears. I crush her to me in the wake of our orgasms, sweaty bodies sliding against one another.
“Flo McKenna.” Saying her name this way, at this time, feels like a declaration of true love, without actually needing to use the words.
She glances up with a quirked smile, hands stroking my stubbly cheeks. “Evan West.”