Chapter Twenty-Three Scarlett
I think I’m dying.
Or maybe I’m already dead and I’m in heaven because I’m currently spread out like a meal on Evan’s bed as he towers over me at the end of it.
He is more than beautiful. More than gorgeous.
His blond hair is a little darker from the shower we just took together and there are droplets of water that glisten on his huge shoulders.
His chest is broad and hard, defined muscles make up what has to be an eight-pack.
I want to trail my tongue between the ridges of each one.
I push up onto my elbows, tilting my head to the side. “I bet this wasn’t in your plans for your birthday.”
Evan grins, shaking his head. “No. It’s even better.”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve been fucking dreaming about this, Scarlett.
” His voice is thick and heavy with want as he leans over me, and the only thing I can see is him.
My elbows buckle beneath me, and he smirks, pressing a kiss to my collarbone.
“Every day.” A kiss to my other collarbone.
“Every night.” He starts to make his way down my chest, and I’m sure he must feel the way my heart skips against his lips.
“Every waking moment . . .” His mouth covers my nipple, pulling the sensitive bud into his mouth and I feel it harden on his tongue. “You’re all I think about.”
“Are you obsessed with me, Branson?” I try to laugh, try to play it cool, but I’m practically shaking beneath him. A desperate, needy mess that needs to be touched.
“Obsessed, addicted, all the best things,” he says, making his way down my stomach and I arch for him. He grips me by the hips, lowering his mouth and lining it up with my center. My eyes gloss over as he nudges his tongue against my slick heat. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”
I drop my forearm against my sweaty forehead, panting. “Evan . . .”
He chuckles darkly. I’m not used to seeing him like this.
He’s so confident, so self-assured and cocky and I’m .
. . I’m a mess. I can barely form sentences when he looks at me.
I feel like a schoolgirl with a crush all over again, my entire body flushed and shining with sweat from the effort of keeping still.
He presses his mouth to my clit, and I grind into him, already needing more. I can hardly think straight, my legs shaking against the bed. “You’re doing so good,” Evan murmurs, teasing two fingers at my entrance and the pleasure tightens.
“Evan . . .” I whisper, not sure what I’m begging for.
He continues pushing his fingers into me, reaching the spot that makes me scream with little effort.
The feeling builds, and my release is so close I can almost taste it.
Stars cloud my vision. Right when I’m about to be thrown over the edge, he stops, pulling out his fingers, and I gasp. “God, I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” he laughs, and I look down at him with his face between my legs as he presses his cheek against the apex of my thighs.
“You hate how good it feels, but you love me bossing you around. You love someone else taking control and taking care of you, even when you say you don’t.
” He dips his fingers into me again, but not enough.
I move my hips, grinding into his hand, but he’s still holding back.
His eyes blink up at me, and they turn into soft, perfect doe eyes, his voice lowering.
“Now, tell me again that you hate me. I dare you.”
My heart riots in my chest, and he surprises me by landing one firm slap to my pussy. I shatter completely, my body trembling as I try to speak.
“Fuck,” he mutters, staring at me with disbelief. He kisses the inside of my thigh, making his way up my body. “That was quick. You just couldn’t hold it in, could you?”
I roll my eyes, dragging him up until his mouth is on mine again. The taste of my arousal on his mouth has me moaning against his lips when he pushes his tongue into my mouth.
“Are you okay?” I ask, pulling apart from him slightly. He just nods, ready to give me another kiss, but I stop him. “With this, I mean. With everything.”
“I’m fucking perfect, Scarlett,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of my mouth. Then my jaw. Then down my neck.
“Are you sure?”
“I promise I’m good. I’d tell you if I wasn’t.” I nod, and he pulls apart from me to grab a condom from his nightstand. I watch him open it with his teeth and roll it over his length. “Are you sure you want me to fuck you? Because once I do, I really don’t think there’s any going back.”
“I don’t want to go back,” I pant. He nudges himself against me, an entire inch slipping inside me. Finally. I cry out, my hips bucking and my back arching. But he doesn’t move. He just rests there, panting with me. My head tilts back and I swallow. “Please, please, please.”
“So polite,” he murmurs. “Maybe I need to get you like this more often.”
“You can have me like this whenever you want. I just . . . I need you, please.” I feel pathetic, begging for this man to just give me what I want, but I don’t care.
After the way he’s looked after me these last few days, the way he’s encouraged me to work on my own designs again, I feel unstoppable.
I feel like I deserve this. Deserve him.
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he mutters, and he finally slides himself into me.
I forget how to breathe. I forget where I am.
Who I am. I’m a puddle in his hands, something free and loose with no substance.
Evan drops his forehead to my shoulder as he pauses, cursing into my neck, and he bites me there.
I drag my nails down his back, loving the way it elicits another moan from him when I do.
We stay like that for a second. Just breathing. And breathing. And breathing.
“Good?” I ask, nudging my nose against his forehead.
“So fucking good.”
He finally starts to move then, leaning up off me, pressing his thumb into my hip, slow strokes in and out.
He’s not quiet like I thought he would be. He tells me what feels good for him, how well I’m taking him, how sex has never felt like this with anyone else. I’d tell him the same if I could speak without crying out and begging for more.
He picks up his pace and his hand brackets my jaw, tilting my head up to him as he kisses me deeply.
“You’re perfect, Scarlett,” he whispers, pulling back to run his thumb over my bottom lip.
“Tell me you understand.” I nod, gasping when he pistons his hips with a hard, punishing thrust. His thumb slips into my mouth, and I suck.
He lets out a shuddery breath, dropping his forehead to mine as he takes his thumb out. “I need you to say it.”
“I’m perfect,” I pant out.
He grins. “Good girl.”
I’m lost between space and time as Evan continues worshipping my body like it’s the only thing he knows how to do.
He’s an expert at making me feel good. He knows just how to get me right there, to have me dangling off the edge of the cliff before pulling back.
I don’t know if he’s doing it intentionally, if he really wants to drag this out, but I don’t care.
The push and pull is so painfully delicious that I’d stay here all night if we have to.
As if he’s read my mind, he mumbles into my neck, “I want this to last forever.”
I chuckle. “Me too.” He pulls out of me slowly, only to go back in deeper, just as slow. I moan, gripping the sheets beside my head as Evan leans back and holds my hips, watching himself push in and out of me. “But,” I add, “it would be really great if you could let me come now.”
He grins evilly, running his hands up from my waist to squeeze both of my breasts.
He teases a nipple between his fingers, using just the right amount of pressure as I use one of my hands to play with my clit.
The sensations are all too much. The feel of him deep inside me, the fingers on my nipples and my clit, the look on Evan’s face as he looks down at me like I’m a painting in a gallery.
“There you go, baby,” he mutters, “come for me.”
I explode around him, not having the chance to catch my breath as he chases his own release, pushing into me quicker until he orgasms too.
He groans when he finishes, slipping out of me with a whimper as he collapses beside me, pulling me over him.
I lay my head on his chest, feeling the way his heart beats against my ear, and he trails his finger up and down my spine.
“I didn’t think that would be so good,” I mumble, kissing his chest.
He laughs. “Did you have low expectations?”
“No. I had high ones. You just exceeded them.”
“I’ve always been an overachiever,” he says coyly, pushing my hair out of my face.
“Very funny.” I press a quick kiss to his lips, sitting up beside him. “I think we need to shower again.”
“But no funny business this time,” he demands, pointing a finger at me. I can’t help it. I bite down on his finger, and he gasps. “You can go shower alone.”
“What? I was kidding. That’s not fair,” I exclaim, trying to climb over him, but he doesn’t let me. Instead, he pins me to the bed, holding my wrists above my head.
“It is,” he says, grinning. “You need to be punished if you want to keep acting like a brat.”
I lift my hips up to his. “Maybe you could punish me in other ways.”
He hisses, shaking his head. “This was a bad idea.”
“This was the best idea you’ve had in your life, Branson.” His grip on me loosens and I slide out from beneath him, settling beside him again. This time he drapes his arm over my shoulder, pulling me close, and he presses his lips to my temple.
“Mm. It was.” I sigh into his embrace, desperately trying to get impossibly closer to him. “Happy new year, Scarlett.”
I smile against his skin. “Happy new year.”
We stay like that for a couple more minutes before we finally get up to shower.
Much to my dismay, we shower separately so Evan can put on fresh sheets before I return.
I try not to think about touching him or finding a new way to work him up as he walks past me, still naked, and steps into the bathroom.
Lying in his bed alone, I feel . . . different. A good different. I finally feel like myself again. Away from the worries of school and the expectations of my parents. I might not know what I’m doing yet, but I’m not so scared of finding out.