by London James
Oh, she wishes.
“The stepbrother who fucks her,” I reply.
It’s a little funny to watch her reaction. She gasps, but defeat is far from her mind. I can tell.
She wraps her arm through his and puts a hand on his chest. Really? This guy? She can do better than him. “It was a mistake, though. Our parents didn’t get married until we were adults.”
A mistake. The little minx is throwing my words back in my face.
“Oh, so you guys didn’t grow up together?” the new guy asks.
Well, that seems to be a slippery slope. We did grow up together, but not in the way he thinks.
“No. He’s just someone I used to know,” Everly says, swinging the final blow from the sharp edges of her sword and stabbing my already jaded heart.
And that is enough. I uncross my ankles and push off the door frame, yanking her to my side by her wrist. “Get out of here and go fuck with someone else.” I pull her inside and slam the door in the man’s face.
“Just who do you think you are?” she stutters, stumbling and swaying left and right as she tries to take off her shoes.
“I’m the guy you barely know,” I sneer.
“Well, I’m the mistake you screwed last night, remember?” she yells.
“You drive me fucking insane, Everly!”
“You’ve already driven me insane, Rowan.” She curls her lip as she spits my name, as if it tastes as bad.
I stomp forward and plant my feet in front of her. “Good, because that is how you have made me feel the last five or six years. That feeling of uncertainty you feel, that ache in your heart, the questions in your mind,” I tap the side of my temple. “That’s been my life for the last six years. So welcome to hell, Everly. Buckle up and enjoy the ride.” I spread my arms out, as if welcoming her to said hell.
It looks like she and I are going to be swimming in hot flames for the rest of eternity. Since our hearts seem to be set on torturing one another.
And last time I heard, the devil had a real sick and twisted way with hurting people. Hell, the devil isn’t in disguise. Maybe everyone has their own personal devils. And mine is five-foot-four, has long honey brown hair, bright green eyes, and even when she chips away at every nerve, she gets my cock hard, turning me on just as much as she drives me toward the edge of insanity.
Yeah, if she isn’t the devil, she’s my own personal brand of demon.
Chapter 20
Everly
Oh, the nerve of him!
How dare he come at me like that. “Rowan, you have no right controlling me like that. If I want to hang out with another man, I will. You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me. It doesn’t work like that.” I try to point my finger at him, to show him who the boss is here, but I stumble, tripping over my own two feet.
I’m positive I’m about to hit the ground, but big strong arms wrap around me right as the floor gets too close for comfort. He lifts me back to my feet, but the motion makes me stumble backwards.
My back is against the wall, and our faces are inches from each other. Rowan’s nose touches mine. His breath ghosts over my lips, and I can taste the slightest hint of scotch. A white make-shift bandage catches my attention. It’s wrapped around his palm. Red splotches decorate it. I want to ask what happened, what marred his beautiful skin, but the snarl on his face makes me hold my tongue.
The maddening man.
He is so handsome. The kind of handsome that hurts your heart and makes you wonder how in the world can someone be that good looking. He just wakes up, and boom, he is the hottest, sexiest man I have ever laid eyes on. He has this tiny scar right above his lip from when we went fishing when we were eight, maybe nine. It’s my fault. I flung the rod back, and the hook got him right in the mouth.
My fingers ghost over the scar, and I don’t even realize I do it. I go to pull my hand away from the curve of his top lip, but his hand lands on mine, to keep it there. He closes his eyes and leans into my touch. I trace the edges of the pale, slightly-puckered skin. It is hard to believe that little scar is all that is left from the accident.
His lashes shadow over the tops of his cheeks, and his eyelids flutter from my barely-there touch. I could touch him forever. He only drives me mad because he is the one thing in this world I can never have. I push him away, but really, I only end up loving him more the harder I try not to.
It’s cruel.
He brings his lips closer to mine. The tease of his breath wisps over my skin like a cool summer night’s breeze. Warmth radiates from his skin, soaking into mine.
“You need to sober up,” he mumbles against my lips.
The tickle of the soft skin causes me to whimper. “Don’t tell me what I need to do,” I stumble over my words, but I make sure not to slur. Drunk or not, loving him and wanting him, seem to be out of my control.
“We have another search tomorrow. We can’t do this. You need to rest.” He pulls out of my hold, taking his warmth away with him.
“Don’t worry about me. You stopped caring a long time ago. Don’t start now,” I choke out, through the emotion strangling my throat.
He marches forward and points his finger in my face. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to place blame on me when all of this between us is your fault. You! Not me. I loved you, Everly. Do you get that? Do you know what love actually is? I fucking loved you. You left me, remember? You stopped caring about me, remember? You didn’t answer your phone. You broke me, remember? No. You don’t get to stand there, half drunk, and point fingers at me.”
My lip starts to tremble because I know he is right.
His face pinches with sadness as he lays his forehead on mine and whispers, “You don’t get to fuck with me like this after so many years. No matter how many times I try and get away from you, to put you behind me, something happens and the memory of you surfaces. So just stop. Let me go.”
“I can never let you go, Rowan,” I say through thick sobs. “I might have left you, hurt you, but I never let you go.” I break eye contact with him and slither out of his hold.
I wipe my cheeks on the back of my hands and walk toward the couch to get ready for bed. I just want to sleep and find my mom.
I go to pull my wrist out of his hand, but he keeps a tight grip on it. “Rowan, you’re right. Let’s just go to bed. Only a few more days and we never have to see each other again,” and the reality of that hits me hard. To only see him and his success through the newspaper and relive it through the scrapbook.
It’s sad and pathetic.
“I can’t live like that,” he says, yanking me into his arms.
I thump against his chest and barely have time to place my hands on his chest before his mouth is on mine, taking me and owning me with one lick of his tongue.
“I can’t stay away from you,” he mumbles through our kiss.
“I know the feeling,” I answer. I haven’t been able to stop loving Rowan from the day I met him.
I throw my arms around his neck and deepen the kiss. He tastes like scotch. The burn slides down my throat, but just slightly. Whatever he drank was the good stuff if it left a slow burn in its wake.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I say, breaking the kiss. Despite myself, I hold onto him tighter.
“I know.”
“We need to be smarter,” I moan as his lips travel down my neck.
“I’d rather be stupid,” he whispers, bringing a smile to my face. “Now, shut up.”
I nod as I tilt my head back, running my fingers through his hair on the nape of his neck as he ventures lower and lower, until he is kneeling on the ground. He lifts my dress, inch by inch up my legs.
“So fucking gorgeous,” he mutters, like he is in a trance, feathering his fingertips over the pale flesh.
I swallow, realizing what he is about to do. My entire body breaks out in a light sweat. No one has ever done this to me before. It has only ever been Rowan, and he has never tasted me down the
re. He throws my right leg over his shoulder and bunches my dress up around my waist.
I’m not wearing panties.
He growls, rubbing his thumb over the thicker than usual, bush. I keep it trimmed, but lately I haven’t. “I love your hair,” he says, giving it a soft tug. “I love this more, though.” He slides his index and middle finger through the wet folds, parting them to show my swollen pearl.
I gulp, feeling exposed and vulnerable. He is seeing every inch of me right now, more than anyone has ever seen.
“So pink. So wet. Is this all for me?” He slides those crystalline irises up my body and pulls his hand free, yanking a whimper from my throat.
“Rowan,” I whine from his absence.
“Look at me,” he demands.
I do what he wants, and he puts his fingers into his mouth, sucking the slick digits until every layer of juice is licked clean. His eyes roll to the back of his head, leaving nothing but the whites to be seen for a moment before slaying me again with his intense gaze. “So fucking sweet. I knew you would be. All strawberries and fruit. My favorite.”
And he dives in.
He latches his lips on to my bundle of nerves, never taking his eyes off mine. His tongue is a whip, lashing me over and over again, but it is far from punishment. He sucks my clit into his mouth, rolls it around, and nibbles. The soft touch of his teeth sends an edge of worry and danger, which only heightens the incredible emotions. It sends high-pitched noises out of my mouth and makes me reach toward the sky on my tippy-toes.
I can’t take it anymore.
He moves off my essence, flattening his tongue to lick all the way back to my perineum, only to lick to the front again.
Tightening my fingers through his thick locks, I start to thrust my hips, shoving the fat lips of my pussy further into his mouth. After a good tug on his hair, I remove my hands and slide them up my body to pluck my nipples. The extra sting is all I need.
“Rowan, yes,” I moan with puckered lips.
I keep assaulting the hardened beads on my breasts, tugging and pinching them through my dress to add to his pleasure. His hands go to my hips, pulling me closer, and then he shoves his tongue into the hole only he has been in, fucking me over and over again with his tongue.
“Yes, oh god, I’m going to come. I’m going… Rowan, I—” but he never lets up. I toss my head back one final time, latching onto the thick tendrils of his hair, and scream.
I scream until my throat hurts.
My orgasm trembles the muscles in my pussy, hell, my entire body, and I squirt into his mouth. It’s embarrassing. I didn’t know I did that, but he laps it up, thirsty for my come. My body is a quivering mess when he pulls away.
His mouth shines, not just from my juice, but with a happy smile. He stands, bringing his lips closer to mine. I’m drunk off my orgasm. My eyes are glazed. I’m high off the feelings he gives me.
“Have you ever tasted yourself, Everly?”
I shake my head.
He grabs the back of my head with his hand and yanks me forward. His drenched lips slant onto mine. We slip together in a wet, honey-flavored kiss. I moan from the wild, forbidden taste he gives me. I like it. If that’s what I taste like, I can see why men like to do it so much.
I don’t bother unbuttoning his shirt. I want him now. I need him now. His zipper echoes in the living room. The flames still flicker in the fireplace, creating a soft glow and a romantic mood, but to hell with romance. I want something raw and primal.
So, I open up his pants and pull him out. Once his soft cock is in my hand, I stroke it.
He arches into my touch, still clothed, still proper, but the nine-inch shaft in my palm is far from proper and refined. I’ve never seen anyone else’s cock before, but there is no way they are as perfect as Rowan’s. The tip is red while the rest of his shaft is a tan. The vein bulges on the side, filling his thick muscle to the hard, long rod that it is now.
“I love your hands on me,” he says.
“I love my hands on you.”
When he tilts his head back down, he wraps his arms around me and backs me up against the couch. My knees bend, falling to my doom.
Or salvation.
It depends on how someone looks at it.
He wraps my legs around his waist and rotates until his back is against the cushions. He holds the curve of my lower back and situates me on top of his cock until it is positioned at my entrance.
Rowan grunts and lowers me on his thick spear. My jaw drops from the intrusion, but pleasure shoots through me, and I never want it to stop. Both of us moan when he can’t go any further and is seated fully.
He lays his forehead against my chest, and hot puffs of air hit my skin. “You feel so good.” The words struggle from his tongue.
And I’m barely holding on.
I lift myself up and back down, needing friction. I need more. I wrap my arms around his neck and rock back and forth. Sweat decorates his forehead when he looks at me. “Use me,” he grunts, not moving to meet my thrusts. “Fuck me, Everly.”
My nails dig into the skin on his shoulders, and I latch myself onto his body and start to gyrate my hips until the crown of his cock is brushing against that special spot inside of me. “Rowan,” I cry, gaining speed and friction as I fuck him.
For the first time.
Something about this position feels better than all the other positions. My body is constantly shaking from my clit dragging across his lower abdomen. My orgasm approaches quick, but I want to hold it back.
“What do you do to me?” he whispers, dragging his lips across my neck.
I know exactly what he means because I have no idea. When I’m with him, everything falls away. His soul tangles with mine. It has ever since the day we met. Was it only a matter of time before we were giving our bodies over to one another? Because, thinking about it, it makes sense.
I wrap my arms tighter around him and lay my head on his shoulder, whimpering into his ear every time his thick cock drags across that spot that makes me feel like I’m about to explode.
“Look at me,” he whispers.
I lean back, trying to lift my lids to do what he wants me to.
“I want to see you come as I come in you.” He starts to flex his hips, grinding his shaft deep inside me.
Glancing down, I watch him slide in and out of me. It takes my breath away. How does he fit? The wet sounds of us joining together are erotic all on their own. The dark material of his jeans are wet, from me, from him turning me on so damn much. He gets me so wet.
“You going to come for me? I’m going to fill you up, Everly. You want that? You want my come?”
“Yes! I want it all,” I shout, tossing my head back with a fevered passion as an orgasm rips through me, and I gush all over his cock.
His lips twist, his eyebrows pinch, and Rowan looks at me with desperation right before he shuts his eyes and grunts his release, thrusting his hips with every rope of come that leaves his slit. He slows, sliding in and out, slow and passionate, and brings my lips to his mouth, kissing me like he has always loved me.
What I’d give to have his love again.
Chapter 21
Rowan
I wake up to the sound of my cell phone ringing. The sun is barely peeking over the horizon, but my eyes still squint from the light being so damn intrusive. My heart thumps against my chest as I remember what happened last night. I turn to the right and see a smooth, creamy back turned to me. Honey brown hair spills over the white pillowcase, and my worried heart starts to slow.
She didn’t leave.
I don’t really know what we are, but we are more than what we were when this trip started. I just have no idea what to do with it.
“Mmm, answer your phone,” she waves her hand in the air.
“Still a grumpy morning person, I see.”
“You haven’t seen anything. Morning goblin has only gotten worse over the years,” she slurs with sleep.
I bend over and ki
ss her shoulder, out of habit, out of want, but nothing in me screams at me to stop. And it scares the shit out of me. I don’t want to get too comfortable. Everly has proven she is a runner. And the last thing I want is to get left in her dust again.
The phone rings again. She throws a pillow over her head and groans. It makes me chuckle. I toss the thick, white comforter—that all hotels seem to have—and roll out of bed. My cock lays against my inner thigh, and the air hits the flesh, making me shiver. I just want to get back into the warmth of the bed. Where the beautiful, naked woman is.
The phone stops ringing, but a second later starts up again. It must be Gray with an emergency, but when I flip it over to stare at the screen, it is a Colorado number. My stomach plummets, and my throat starts to close with panic. There is only one reason this number would call me.
“Hello?” I answer. The tone of my voice has Everly flipping over in the bed. She removes the pillow from her face, and the corners of her eyes slant downward with her frown.
“Mr. Michaels? This is Officer Josh Kendall, from the other night. I have some news for you.” He sighs, “It isn’t good.”
I rub my hand over my mouth when tears burn the whites of my eyes. “Just tell me.”
“We found your parents.”
“Are they okay?” I ask with a little hope, and the worry leaves Everly’s face as she crawls to the bottom of the bed.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Michaels. They didn’t make it. We found them in a cave that hasn’t been used in decades. Your mother had a broken leg. We think your father helped her to the cave, and when the storm hit, they couldn’t go anywhere. He laid with her to keep her warm, but they froze to death. I’m sorry.”
“Right. Sure. Okay.” I don’t know what else to say. I guess we have funerals to plan now. We have to get home and get everything in order.
“Because the storm has hit all flights are cancelled, and don’t be shocked if you lose power.”