by London James
“I’ll always love you too, Rowan. Until the end of time and space.”
The vodka gives me the courage to do what I want. I straddle his waist, the tent in his pants from his erection grinding over my slit. I start rocking slowly, wanting to build the pleasure and anticipation. Rowan’s hands slide around my hips, placing them at the curve in my lower back, right above my ass.
“Make love to me,” I whisper against his mouth, but the words come out as a desperate moan.
“Gladly,” he answers, before taking my lips with his. The kiss is smooth, soft, careful, gentle, and I can feel the love pouring off him in waves, speaking with his body since he can’t talk right now. He cups my face with his hands to control the kiss as I dry hump his straining cock.
Something about it seems so simple. It feels so good because it ramps up the need and desire that much more. Our breaths mingle, and we both let out harsh exhales when the grinding starts to get out of control.
My fingers grip the hair curling around the back of his neck. And he makes sure he has a tight hold on me as he brings us to the plush, carpeted floor in front of the fireplace. He thrusts forward, hitting my swollen clit with every thrust.
“Why does this feel so good? I haven’t done this since I was a teenager,” he jokes, but it ends on a long groan when I tilt my hips down, hoping he understands I do not want to talk about his past lovers.
He steals my mouth again in a fevered kiss. He is thrusting against me hard now, and my bare back slides against the carpet, burning the sensitive flesh between my shoulder blades, but I don’t care. I want all the pain, all the marks, all the burns, and bites, and everything else that comes with being wrapped up in Rowan’s embrace.
“Your skin,” he whispers against it. “So soft, so flawless.” He leaves a kiss on my shoulder before moving to the other side and lavishing the curve, so it doesn’t feel left out. He licks across my collarbone. “We should get married,” he says, the words a caress across my breasts.
“What?” I don’t think I heard him correctly. There is no way he said what I thought he said. The blood rushing through my ears must be impairing my hearing.
He kisses a pathway down the middle of my stomach, dipping his tongue in my navel. “Let’s get married. Why not? The house has too many memories. We can do it. Then we don’t have to feel pressure about marrying anyone else.”
It makes sense.
“I’ll marry you whenever you want, Rowan,” I say, meaning it, too.
He smiles as he hovers over me, brushing his finger down my nose. His plump, red lips fall to mine, and his fingers dance up my side, tickling the curve of my breast. “I like that you don’t wear underwear under your clothes. It’s so much easier to have you whenever I want.”
“I don’t wear them because of that,” I tease. I usually do wear underwear, but I’m not going to tell him that. I haven’t been wearing any, in hopes he will want me and take me. Just like he is now.
“I’m going to pretend it is,” he growls, running his index finger down my sternum.
“You’re over dressed,” I stutter as he cups my pussy.
“Always so wet,” he grins, before he rips his shirt in half. Buttons fly everywhere and bounce against the glass of the fireplace.
My hands roam over the plains of his chest. The perfect canvas. His hair is soft against my palms as I migrate down his tapered waist. His abs are morsels that I want nothing more than to taste them. When I get to his belt and undo it, the heavy metal clanks against the floor.
Rowan sits up, flexing his muscles, and the thick ropes that hold his body together show, making my mouth water. He unbuttons and unzips his pants, and his bush shows right away along with the thick base of his cock.
No underwear.
“I’m not the only one,” I wink, teasing my fingers along the edge of the pants, and where his shaft shows.
His body trembles and goosebumps rise on his skin. He is a godlike Adonis, and I’m his for the taking.
His Everly.
I want him to own me. And I will own him. For the rest of my life. Until the end of time and space.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rowan
Maybe it’s just the alcohol running through my veins that’s giving me this wild abandon and carelessness of the repercussions of what will happen if she and I get married. I hope it isn’t. I want us to move forward. I want us. The world feels so good and right with her beneath me, staring at me with want and love.
I shuck off my pants, kicking them who knows where. I don’t really care. I want to make love to her all night, slow and steady. I want to pour all of my emotions into her. These past few days have done nothing but remind me how much she and I need to be together.
We have a lot to work through, but I know we can do it. We are here for a reason. And yes, the reason is ugly and painful because our parents died, but we were able to be there for each other, and that broke the barrier of despair and longing, and we fell into each other again.
When I’m naked, I curl over her again. My arms cage her head in as I lean on my elbows and situate myself between the apex of her thighs.
“Hey,” I say, wanting to slap myself from how lame it sounds.
“Hi,” she smiles.
That beautiful smile that makes the small dent in her chin a little more prominent. My eyes roam her face, and my fingers play with the ends of her hair, loving how soft they are, so smooth. Her long, lashes flutter as I run my nose down her cheek and lick her earlobe, blowing cold air on it.
Her fingers react, clutching fistfuls of my flesh on my chest. She pulls a few pieces of hair, but the pain is just the right amount of pleasure. I settle my cock between the folds of her pussy and push forward, sliding between them as they hug me. I moan while she whimpers as I brush over the swollen flower of that sweet, tender pearl.
I lower myself down against her body. Chest against chest. Skin against skin. The heat from the fireplace radiates over us, adding to the sweat that has already started to build against our skin. The girth of my cock spreads her folds to the max, those sweet, juicy folds that I want to suck into my mouth.
The sounds of us grinding against each other get louder with every second that passes because she gets wetter and wetter, her juices releasing from that tight hole.
“Rowan,” she whimpers, stretching her head back, revealing the tendons of her neck.
“Yeah, baby?” This time, I let out a soft whimper as her clit drags across the nerve on the underside of the crown of my dick. “Fuck, I’m not even inside you, and I could come right now.” It’s true. She has my balls rolling and spine tingling. I’m going to have to come before I get inside her.
“Do it,” she says. “We can go all night. I love it when you come. It turns me on so much.”
I grunt, laying my forehead on her shoulder as I thrust. I can’t stop moaning. I don’t know what broke inside me. Maybe it’s because I let all the pain go, and now I can feel everything intensely. My nerve endings are about to explode.
“You’ve been my only,” she drags her lips across the shell of my ear.
I pull back and hold her face with my hands as I whisper, “You’ve been mine too.”
“No, Rowan. You don’t understand. You’ve been my first, and you’re still the only one I’ve ever been with sexually. No one but you.”
A squirt of come spews from my slit, and my mouth falls open on a painful moan. I’m trying to hold my orgasm back. I’ve been her only lover. Something about being the only one that has ever touched her makes my cock get harder than steel, and my orgasm builds in the shaft. I look down to see come slowly dripping from the small hole, begging for me to let it go.
“You’re serious?” I ask with disbelief. She is so beautiful. Surely, she’s had boyfriends.
Her throat bobs, and her face turns red with embarrassment. “I’ve never even sucked a cock before the other day,” she admits.
And the filthy words leaving her sweet fucking l
ips that were wrapped around my dick send me over the edge. I drop my head and bite the skin of her shoulder as I release my come all over her pussy. I feel it coating my cock like lubricant and dripping off her folds, dropping beads of fertile gloss onto my sack.
“Oh,” she moans, “Oh, God. Rowan, don’t stop what you’re doing.”
I’m only coming, and eventually that will stop, but the last spurt hits her clit, like a bullseye. And with no penetration or hands, Everly is convulsing beneath me, shuttering as her orgasm rips through her body.
I guess my orgasm really does turn her on. Something in me tells me to scoop my come up and push it inside her with my fingers, so that’s exactly what I do. I shove in, three fingers deep, making sure my seed is coating her walls in some way.
The flush that takes over her face travels down her neck and chest. She hides her face behind her hands and moans with shame. “I can’t believe that I did that.”
“So fucking hot,” I growl, inserting my fingers into her wet pussy. “I love that I’ve been your only.” I push deep until my knuckles are against her pussy, unable to go any further.
Everly’s hand slaps against the carpet, and she tries to curl her fingers to grab onto it, but she can’t. Her chest is rising and falling, her back arching, those pink nipples hard and pointing to the ceiling. “I’m going to come again if you keep doing that,” she gasps.
“This?” I ask, like I have no idea what she is talking about, but I curl my fingers, pressing the pads against the spot inside her.
“Yeah, that,” she stutters. “That, that, that,” she chants as another orgasm rips through her.
“So responsive,” I purr.
“Only for you,” she drunkenly mutters.
“That’s right. Only for me.” I wink and pull out my fingers. “Now, be a good girl and lick me clean.” I shove my fingers into her mouth before she can say anything. She laps at my fingers, sucking them until our juices are no longer sticking to me.
I yank them from her mouth and twirl her nipples in between my fingers before guiding my cock to her entrance. I fall onto my elbows, caging her head between my arms again, stealing a few chaste kisses before plunging my tongue inside her mouth, licking the taste buds that still have a combination of her and I on them.
I grip her chin, controlling her mouth as I devour it. I push forward, slow and careful, and my thick cock spears the tight hole that I’ve only ever been in. Everly and I both moan once I get fully seated inside of her. My thrusts are gentle. I want to take my time. I want to feel every inch of her walls dragging along my cock.
I want to relish in the feel of her heat. I want us to keep falling into each other until finally, we fall so deep we can’t come back up for air. My hand falls to her hip. My long, thick fingers wrap around the feminine curve of her waist and use it as leverage. The air around us is thick with emotion. Love is pouring from us.
With every exhale, I taste the amount of love she has for me. I swallow it, hungry for more.
My strokes are long as I curl my hips into her, like a wave crashing against the shore. She tightens her legs around me, digging the sole of her foot into the curves of my ass, pulling me further inside her. I didn’t think I could, but I slide in another inch.
“Rowan,” she says with wide eyes.
She feels it.
She feels the energy between us. It keeps getting higher and higher. An electrical storm sparks between us. “I know,” I assure her, picking up the pace of my strokes.
Gliding in and out, with every sigh she lets out; I breathe in. We take ourselves higher, and higher, until the point of no return. I feel her walls clamp around me, but I’m not ready for her to come yet. I flip us over. Everly is on top of me now and damn, it is a beautiful view.
Her swollen, abused nipples are hard and staring at me right in the face. The small curve of her breast fits in my hand as I knead the perfect size mounds. She moves her hair out of the way, lifting it above her neck. I’m sure she is sweating.
I lift up and pull her head to mine, pressing our lips together.
She takes my face in her hands, not kissing me, just gazing into my eyes as she tries to set her own rhythm. I have to lay back down because I can’t catch my breath from how good it feels and how erotic she looks on top of me. “You were meant to ride my cock,” I say through clenched teeth, trying to hold back my orgasm, again.
Everly makes me really want to work on my endurance. I’ve never had this problem before, but one inch inside her, and I’m ready to blow. I’m lucky I can go a few rounds without getting soft.
Her hands fall to my chest, and her hips start to rock. Her mouth drops open in pleasure when she feels how good it is. She bites her lip at the same time her eyes roll to the back of her head. Everly picks up the pace, sliding back and forth, gyrating her hips like she has done this a hundred times. The way my cock is being used by her, is making it harder to hang out.
“Oh, Rowan. You feel so good,” she moans. “Yes. Fuck me, that’s it. Oh, god.” She tosses her head back when I thrust my hips up. When a guttural scream rips out of her throat, I realize she must really like this position.
I like it too. Believe me; it isn’t a hardship. I’ll take her any fucking way she wants.
I bring her to my chest, keeping my arms wrapped around her, and fuck her from the bottom, fast and hard.
“Rowan!” she cries, whimpering and clawing at my skin.
A gush of fluid soaks me as she falls limp in my arms. Her walls milk my orgasm right out of the tip of my cock, and I shoot my seed deep inside her, exploding in white-hot light. I want to be bound to her in every way. I want to feel like this forever.
My brows pinch together when Everly doesn’t move.
“Everly?” I shake her, still riding the tremors of my orgasm, snuggled inside her tight, wet pussy.
No answer.
“Everly?” I roll her to the floor and place my ear to her heart.
I breathe a sigh of relief when her heart beats against my ear. “You scared the hell out of me.” I think she just took ten years off my life.
My cock slides out, much to my dismay, and I pull her close. I close my eyes with a smirk on my face. I fucked her until she passed out. If that doesn’t make a man feel good, what would?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Everly
I wince when the sun peeks through the windows, searing my tired eyelids and making me hate how much I drank last night. My brain is pounding against my skull.
“Turn the light off,” Rowan mutters, throwing a pillow over his head.
“It’s the sun. Can’t turn off the sun,” I complain. Why doesn’t this place have blinds or curtains? We get it. The view is pretty. So pretty. Oh-la-la.
Now I just want to lay in darkness and become a creature of the night.
“It’s stupid,” Rowan says into the pillow, making the words mute.
“Stop talking, baby. It hurts,” I beg, holding my hands against my head when I sit up, just to make sure my brain doesn’t spill out or something.
He nods his head but doesn’t say much else. I notice a curtain rod, but no curtains. An idea strikes my alcohol-poisoned brain. I stumble out of bed, and my stomach rolls. Stopping in my tracks, I put my hand to my stomach, waiting for the urge to puke to pass. Oh, the cleaning for ruining this fancy carpet would be hilarious.
I grab a blanket from the cabinet by the bed and grab a chair, dragging it across the room to where the window is. It takes a lot of will-power to balance and not vomit once I’m standing on the chair. I throw the blanket over the window to block out the blinding rays from the sun. I spread it along the wall and sigh when we are submerged in almost black.
Rowan lifts his head. “Did we die? It’s dark. It feels so good.”
I hold onto the arms of the chair and hop off, giving myself a second in hopes my head will stop spinning. “No, it just feels like death. We drank too many Shirley’s. Too sugary.”
“Don’t ta
lk about her like that. She was good to us,” he flops onto his back and throws his arm over his eyes.
“So good that she hates us this morning.” I hold my hand to my stomach again and take a deep breath. Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up.
I grab a bottle of water and a bottle of Aspirin before climbing into bed. I rest my back against the blue velvet headboard. If I lay down, I just might throw up from my stomach going with gravity and pushing upward. I pop a few white pills in my mouth and swallow it down with water.
“Want some?”
“Do I ever,” he groans in pain. His pain groan and his pleasure groan are so different. I’m glad. Nothing would be worse than going at it and hear him groaning thinking he is about to upchuck.
We sigh at the same time, both of us sitting against the headboard. His hand intertwines with mine, and I can’t hide the smile as he squeezes tight.
“Last night was amazing,” I say. We had sex so many times; I lost count. And I only lost count because we started drinking while we were having sex. He poured some of his Shirley in my belly button and was taking ‘Shirley Shots’ off my body. His words, not mine.
“It was,” he mutters, bringing my hand to his lips. He presses them against my skin. They are a little dry, but I wouldn’t want to feel any other lips as long as I live. I only want his.
“So, are you still up for what we discussed?” he asks, but the phone rings interrupting my answer.
“Great. That’s good news. I’ll schedule the flight out. Thanks.” He places his phone down, face up. “Travel ban is lifted, and flights are up and running again.”
“Oh, that’s great. Being here another minute will be too long for me. I never want to come back here.” Not because of what he and I shared, but because of why we shared it. This never would have happened if our parents’ death didn’t bring us together.
“You and me both,” he nods. “I want to take a shower first, and then we are going to go to Vegas.”