It wasn’t terrifying, however, as she’d expected. It was exciting, arousing. Her sex pulsed once, hotly, and the need to make him do it again swelled up inside her. A series of words went through her mind, each more filthy than the last. Words like yes and more and oh please, please fuck my face.
She wasn’t even sure what they meant, entirely, but they felt good to hear. And even better when similar things came out of his mouth.
“Yeah, just like that,” he told her, and the feeling caught hold of her again. She suspected it was triumph, but it felt a lot like arousal too. Her clit sparked again, to hear him. Her legs trembled and tried to stop holding her up.
And then his hand tightened in her hair and his hips jerked upward and oh, oh. He was going to come. She knew it—she could feel it. His cock swelled in her mouth, his hand tightened on the shaft.
And finally he said it, in a voice too hoarse to bear.
“Oh Jesus, I’m gonna come. Evie. Evie. Stop—I’m gonna come in your mouth.”
She could feel him trying to pull away almost desperately, but he was crazy if he thought she was going to let that happen. Just the thought of him doing it like that, of him shooting over her tongue—she couldn’t possibly let him go.
Not now. Not now that he was just about to go.
“Ohhhhh fuck, fuck. Honey, I can’t stop. I can’t, oh God that’s so good.”
And then the taste of him flooded her mouth, so thick and hot and somehow sudden. All of it far more than she’d been prepared for, but still so intensely arousing, just the same.
He was actually coming in her mouth. She could feel him swelling and jerking and doing it, filling her up with an excess of that salt-sweet taste. Great, hoarse moans racking him as he climaxed, that hand he still had on himself squeezing and squeezing.
And then it was done. It was done. He sagged against her, warm and almost too heavy. His face pressed to the side of hers for a brief moment, so sweet and calming after something so intense.
Before realization seemed to hit him.
He was weighing her down. Swamping her with himself. And though she didn’t mind in the slightest—in truth, she appreciated the reassurance of his big body—he shifted to one side on the bed. Sprawled out right next to her, one hand still on her back, like a reminder. We’ve just explored each other, touched each other, you can still taste me in your mouth, can’t you, Evie?
She could. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to taste or feel anything else again, after something like that. The heat of him, the pleasure, the feel of his kisses…how was she supposed to give that up now? How was she supposed to spend a day without any of it, let alone a week?
Looking back on it, she could hardly believe how they’d spent their time over these last couple of months. A few hours together, and nothing for days and days. It seemed impossible to her, right at that moment—like a nightmare she’d had about leading the wrong life.
This, now…this was how her life should be. This was the right one. Not that other thing, so cold and lifeless and dull.
“Hey, hey,” he started, and she knew how he was going to finish it before he actually did. He never shocked her, with something brutal and awful. He always gave her the best, the sweetest, the thing she wanted most of all.
“It’s all right,” he said. “It’s okay, come here. Come here to me.”
And she went, without a word. She tucked herself into the little nook he made for her, just below his shoulder. Listened to him saying other things, about how lovely he found her, like this. How good she’d made him feel.
After words like those it barely seemed like a hardship, to tell him something she’d never said out loud, to anyone.
“You make me happy, Van,” she said, then sleepier, softer. “You make me so happy.”
Chapter Eight
“Evie.”
She knew something wasn’t right almost immediately. He just didn’t sound like his normal self, and the other versions of him she knew—the ones that turned dirty during sex or shut off the second she tried to push him too far—weren’t in that one word either.
He hissed the damn thing. He shook her as he said it—even though he’d seemed to love her drifting off against him. She’d woken at some stupid time to fall asleep at, like 9:30, and found him just staring right down at her. Gaze soft, near smiling, suddenly embarrassed, once he realized he was caught.
But this wasn’t that. She could feel the tension in his body before she’d even come all the way around, though that wasn’t surprising. She suspected anyone could feel what another person was going through, when said person had decided to take all of their clothes off in the middle of the night.