My nipples hardened against the caress of his warm breath.
"They weren't perfect."
"They were to him. He loved the way she moaned when he did this," Evan said, flicking his tongue across one nipple and his thumb over the other.
I arched my back, suddenly incapable of speech, running my fingers through his hair. "She ran her hands through his hair, pulling it rougher than she had intended."
"She had no need to worry. He'd never complain, except to ask for more."
"He worked his way down her body, his mouth kissing, licking and even gently biting her along his path." I propped myself on my elbows and watched him do what I said. And it occurred to me that I might be able to voice what I wanted in this almost anonymous third person sort of way. Maybe that was part of Evan's plan too. "He pulled off her jeans in one swift movement."
Evan sat up and grasped the hem of each leg. The movement wasn't as swift as I'd pictured but it was hot nonetheless. He rubbed my legs on the way up until his nose was buried in my panties.
"Then there was only this scrap of silk between them. Although it was sexy, he hated it because it stood in the way of what he wanted and craved most." The moisture on my panties must have been noticeable because his eyes widened. "So he ripped those off too."
I winced, both excited and nervous as he the material ripped away from my skin. Evan kissed the insides of my thighs before pulling them apart. He kissed down my runway strip and licked my opening. I decided to seize the control he'd given me before I totally lost it.
"His tongue entered her sex just then."
He paused, tilting his face. "What?"
"His tongue licked her sex."
"I don't know what that means."
"Yes you do," I said, not hiding my impatience.
"Rephrase."
"Her chasm."
He shook his head. "That's even worse."
"Her folds."
"Fuck no."
"Her cunny."
"You're getting colder."
"I'm writing a historical."
"There's a limit to how far I'll go. Modern times call for modern words."
He didn't laugh. It would have been better if he had. Instead, he ran his nose down my opened, sniffing me. "Don't be shy. Tell me what you want. Because I sure as hell fucking want it too." He pressed his lips on the inside of each thigh. He moved his mouth over my mound, kissing me over and over. Holy heat … he's making out with my other lips. His hot breath against that sensitive area made me beg. Of course, I couldn't form any words so it was more like a whimper.
"Evan!" I finally screamed when his tongue just barely grazed me.
He let out a frustrated groan. "Fucking say it, Billie. Say what you need and give me what I want."
"Pussy. Please … Suck my puss-"
I couldn't finish because he started then. He stroked me with that tongue and every time I got used to a movement he changed it up, causing me to cry out again. He held onto my legs, keeping them spread. I fell back on the bed, falling, falling, falling apart. He hooked both of my legs over his shoulders and sat up, lifting the lower half of my body with his. I watched him eating me out like he was hungry for me … starving. And I don't know if he meant it to be instruction, but it sure the hell was the most erotic thing I'd ever seen. His thumb gently pressed on my clit and he inserted another finger, while his tongue still thrust inside me.
He peered down at me, his eyes blazing.
Evan might have been part porn star and part rock star, but in that moment, a new nickname surfaced above all others. Evan David Wright was … the Pussy Whisperer.
When I did come undone, he was very gentle with me. Massaging my legs, which I was thankful for, since they'd lost feeling.
"Shall we continue?" he asked, taking out a condom out of his back pocket.
I took a few deep breaths, and bolted upright. "I want to hum for you, Evan."
"What do you mean?" he asked, even though his expression clearly said he knew my intentions.
I unzipped his jeans and pulled them down along with his boxer briefs. I stroked his long, hard length, proud of that I could make his breath shallow too. I meant to slide down to the floor, but I sort of fell instead. The move wasn't my most graceful moment.
"You okay?" he asked, helping me to my knees.
"Fine," I said, clearing my throat. I grasped his balls, rolling them in my hand. "She wanted to give him back some of the pleasure he'd given her. She wanted to taste and tease him with her tongue."
He clenched his teeth. "Don't take this the wrong way, sunshine, but I can't hold out much longer. I really need you to shut up and suck my dick … please."
I did. As much as I could anyway. He threaded his fingers through my hair. A raspy, guttural, grunting sound escaped him. I loved that sound so I kept trying to get him to do it again.
"Billie," he said, scratching my cheek. Except it wasn't his fingernails. It was a condom wrapper, rubbing back and forth under his shaky hand.
"I need you now." And he didn't scream or demand it. He said it like a plea.
Disappointed he wouldn't let me finish, but not about to deny his request, I took the condom and slid it open between my teeth. I rolled it on him and crawled onto his lap. He held me tight and buried his face in my neck as I sank onto him.
He tilted me back and thrust into me with such power that I almost lost it again. This time we both made sounds. It was offbeat and animalistic, but I loved the harmony of us. My favorite symphony. He grasped my hips, conducting our tempo. But it was me who set the tone, singing his name from my lips as he swallowed the words from my mouth.
Chapter Eighteen
I'd just returned from a day with my family when Evan knocked on the door. I pretended to be unaffected by his black skull cap and ripped jeans. He shoved his hands in his pocket.
"Horny?" I asked.
"Always, but hungry too. You?"
"I could eat."
"Good, because I would like to make you dinner."
I tilted my head, shocked because I hadn't known he could cook. "Are you asking me on a date?"
"I'm asking you to have dinner with me at my place."
"So … like a date."
He shrugged. "Pick a label-any label that will get you to agree."
"What time?"
"Now."
"Oh, okay. Should I bring anything?"
His eyes skimmed down my outfit-a pink cardigan, black tank and long slacks. "No, but you could take off a few things."
I laughed, taking his outstretched hand and walking to his apartment. My eyes widened when I entered.
"The lit candles are a nice touch."
"I have real plates too, thanks to Tilla. She said I couldn't serve you dinner on a paper plate."
It kind of touched me that he'd asked her advice. "She's a smart girl."
He pulled out a chair for me and even pushed it back in.
"What can I get you to drink?"
"How about water? I've been drinking a lot lately."
He nodded. "Yeah, it's an occupational hazard when you work in a bar."
He set down two glasses of ice water and took the seat opposite me. "How was your day with your family?"
"I had the best time. My sister's pregnant so we all went on a shopping spree. They make the most adorable things for babies now."
"I'll take your word for it." He looked uncomfortable, as if talking about babies, even in a six degree of separation sort of way, was too close for comfort. Of course, my voice probably sounded wistful. Not that I wanted babies right now, but what girl doesn't sigh when imagining holding a little bundle in her arms?
"What are you making me?" I asked, happy to change the subject.
"Roasted beef with mushroom and red skin whipped potatoes."
My stomach growled. "That sounds delicious."
"I thought so."
I sniffed the air and looked toward the kitchen. "I don't smell anything."
"I haven't started it."
I glanced at my watch. "Don't you think you should since we have to be at work in an hour?"
"It only takes eight minutes … well, at least each one does."
I laughed, shaking my head. "You're making me a frozen dinner, aren't you?"
"Yeah," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I kind of suck at this."
"That's okay. It still sounds awesome either way." I wasn't disappointed at all. Maybe because Evan wasn't a fancy let-me-make-you-dinner kind of guy. And the fact that he was trying at all meant something to me.