by Jo Raven
Yeah, that’s me. Ruining this unique moment of feel-good to find out why I’m not feeling like crap as usual. Pure genius.
Then something shifts against my back—a warm body, I realize with a shock—and a small hand, a woman’s hand, slides over my hip and settles there. I stare at it, waiting for my brain to catch up and for the pieces to fall into place.
And they do, echoing in the void of my mind.
Ev. In my shower. In my bed.
Holy shit.
All I know is she makes me feel good. Wanted. Cherished. I’ve never felt that way before, or at least I can’t remember feeling that way. I can barely remember my mom. Never met my dad. The few foster families I was placed with over the years didn’t care much for me.
I have a better family now. Zane and Rafe care. They worry for me and look out for me. But this... Why do I feel like this with her? Like I could stay here, with her, to the end of time?
I put my hand over hers and tangle our fingers together. Her hand is small, and it fits perfectly in mine. She sighs, a warm puff of air on the back of my neck, and she slides ours entwined hands up over my ribs, settling on my chest.
“Hey,” I mutter. “Morning.”
“Hey...” Her voice is heavy with sleep, low and sexy.
In a flash I remember how she moaned my name in the shower as she came around my cock. I also remember she’s naked under my covers, and so am I. My dick finds this little fact very interesting, and it stiffens, rising up to hover against my stomach.
Then she gasps and sits up. “Morning? It’s morning? Crap, I need to go. I texted my parents last night, but I didn’t say where I was, and they’ll be frantic—”
I twist and wrestle her back down on the mattress, pressing her hands on either side of her. She squeals, and I grin widely, then lower myself over her, pressing my hard-on against her belly. She’s breathless now, her eyes wide, and she’s so cute I nuzzle her neck and lick her.
She yips, but then arches her neck to give me better access. I kiss and lick my way down the hollow between her collarbones and pull back just for one second to look at her breasts. Beautiful. Nipples taut, the color of butter candy. I lick them and nip at them, first the one, then the other, and they taste like candy, too. I flick my tongue over the hard bud again and again, until she moans and squirms, her hips lifting urgently underneath me.
My grin widens. I kiss a path down to her navel, and she shivers. I let go of her hands to stroke the silky skin of her thighs and move them further apart, so I can bury my face between them.
Another squeal, ending in a low moan when I lick along her seam, spreading her open.
“Micah...” Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging lightly. “What are you doing?”
She shouldn’t be asking me this. Has nobody gone down on her before? Knowing I have to make it extra-special for her—it’s her first time and it’s Ev, my Ev—I focus on her every response as I find her clit and circle it with the tip of my tongue. It’s swollen, and her hips lift up when I start sucking on it. She lets out tiny gasps and moans that set my blood on fire.
I stroke her seam with my forefinger as I torture her with my tongue, and she’s so wet my cock twitches. I find her opening and push my finger inside. Hot. Tight. Oh, fuck.
Her back arches, and she lets out a keening noise. Fucking hell, how am I supposed to not come here and now when she does that? Lifting my head, I grit my teeth and slowly pull my finger out of her. I draw it between her breasts, leaving a wet trail.
“Please,” she whispers, her eyes thin slits of gold. A shudder goes through her and she shifts restlessly. “Please, Micah.”
“Say it,” I say, my voice hoarse with need. “What do you want?”
She bites her lip, and it’s driving me crazy. I stroke her clit, pressing down, and she makes a breathless sound that goes straight to my cock and pulls my balls tight.
“Say it, Ev.” I lean over her and lick one caramel nipple. “Say it.”
“I want you.” She’s as breathless as I am.
“How?”
“Inside me.” Her voice is a sob. “Please.”
Christ. I fumble with the drawer of the bedside table and fish inside for my box of condoms. I rip the package with my teeth and pull the damn thing on, jaw clenched and counting in my head to stop myself from coming.
I’m right there, on the edge. Just the knowledge it’s Ev lying beneath me, asking me to pleasure her, is enough to make me lose control.
Glancing up, I find her eyes on me, full of desire and trust, and shit, I can’t hold back a second longer. I grab my dick and nudge against her entrance. One push and I’m inside her, and holy fuck, it’s mind-blowing. I lower myself over her and kiss her as I shove my cock deeper. She groans in my mouth, and I swallow the sound as I pull out a little and drive back inside her, my eyes all but rolling up in pleasure.
I can’t get enough of this, I realize. Of her. Can’t get enough of her. Fuck.
The realization goes through me like lightning, a flash of fear, and my heart pounds harder. But it’s not enough to make me stop or even slow down. If anything, I want her more than ever. Need her more than ever.
Shit. Fuck. Dammit. I slam into her faster and faster, drinking the mewling sounds she produces, grinding my hips against hers, needing to feel her, feel her come all around me. Feel she needs me just as much.
I break the kiss to gasp for air. “Don’t let go,” I whisper, and why the fuck am I asking her that? I don’t even know what I want to say.
But she drags her nails down my back and whispers back, “I won’t.”
Layers upon layers of meaning pile up between our words—or is it just me, thinking I read between the lines?
I slam into her harder, faster still, staring into her eyes, caught in them, our panting breaths filling the room. I love the way she moves with me, the way she trusts me to touch her, fill her, make her come, the way she says my name. Love the fact she came to look for me, that she stayed with me, that she met me move for move. I love—
Shut up, I snarl silently, and the stupid voice in my head falls silent.
I don’t love. I don’t do emotions. I know better than that.
To silence my thoughts I slam into her harder. Bending, I take one of her nipples in my mouth, licking and sucking. Her head falls back, and she presses her breast to me, but I switch to the other and bite her nipple gently. She clenches around me, hard, and my cock spasms. I lift my head and hiss, feeling the first wave of pleasure roll inside me, sharp like pain, shooting from my balls to the tip of my cock.
“Ev,” I mouth her name as all air leaves my lungs, and my hips snap, trying to bury my dick deeper inside her.
A soft cry escapes her, and she moves with me, meeting my thrusts, squeezing me in her velvet vise until the pleasure draws me under and teases my vision with black.
I come with a choked shout, calling her name, and she comes with me, holding me inside her, not letting me go. Coming with me all the way.
Damn, she’s amazing. Never felt this way before. Don’t wanna pull out. Don’t wanna disconnect from her. I was so wrong. She’s not part of the picture. She is the picture, and I...
I feel happy.
Oh, crap. Jesus, Micah. What the hell were you thinking?
Yeah, I know. I’ve got it bad for this girl. So sue me. See if I fucking care.
CHAPTER EIGHT
EVANGELINE
Staring into Micah’s bright blue eyes, I struggle to find my way back down to earth. What he does to me is mind-blowing, how he plays with my body and draws out sensations I never imagined, and his smile… A little crooked, wide, sexy. Beautiful. It brings all sorts of unexpected feelings to the surface. A bit of joy, a bit of fear, a bit of panic and a whole lot of desire. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone so much before. This need to touch him all over, kiss him, feel him…
Weak sunlight filters through the window, and I frown. I feel like there’s something I’m forgetting…<
br />
Crap, it’s morning. My parents and Joel must be frantic, not knowing where I was last night.
Micah mirrors my frown. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
I smile, his concern making me feel warm. “No, I’m fine. Got to text Joel, though, let him know I’m all right.”
“Who’s Joel?” The blue of Micah’s eyes darkens.
Wait. He’s jealous? I laugh and splay my hand on his muscled chest. “Wouldn’t you want to know?”
“Ev…” There’s confusion in his gaze now, the blue shot with gray. He has such expressive eyes.
“Joel is my brother.”
He searches my face, and his gaze slowly clears. His grin returns. “Really?”
“I swear.”
“On what?”
“On your mighty cock.” I clap a hand over my mouth. What’s come over me?
“Jesus, girl. You are something.” He laughs quietly, and I’ve found my new favorite sound. Deep and rumbling, it wraps around me like his warm body, pushing away my worries and fears.
I laugh, too. “Sorry.”
“What for? I think my boy never had such an honor.” He sits back, slipping out of me. I twitch at the odd sensation and watch as he pulls off the condom and ties it off. “In fact,” he says, “I think my boy here wants to thank you.”
And sure enough, he’s hardening again as I watch, and heat gathers between my legs. Okay, what’s this—am I turning in to nymphomaniac or something?
He clucks his tongue, and I raise my eyes to find him looking right at me. He knows I was looking at his cock, which is now standing semi-erect, rising against his taut stomach. He’s so handsome, strong and ripped, all lean muscle and sinew. I reach for him, and the blues in his eyes shift again—ever-changing like the sky.
“Your cell,” he says, and it takes me a moment to process his words or the fact he’s now holding my phone in his hand.
How…? Oh, right. I had the cell in the pocket of my pants. Joel is always bugging me to keep it in my purse.
Joel. Shit. I reach for the phone, and Micah tugs on it as I try to take it, his grin widening. He’s playing with me, and it makes me feel giddy and hot. Finally, he relinquishes his hold, and I check my messages.
Ten from Mom, demanding to know where I am and saying she will call the cops if I don’t answer. All from last night. One text from Joel, saying Mom is going crazy, asking if he knows where I am, and where the hell am I anyway?
I wince. What if she called the cops already? I hate this, making them worry and not having the freedom to do a crazy thing like staying over at a guy’s place without the police looking for me. I really should move out. I’m nineteen, after all.
I call Mom first, and she replies on the second ring. “Evie? Oh my God, baby, I was so concerned something happened to you!” She sounds so relieved I feel guiltier than ever.
“Didn’t you get my text about staying overnight at a friend’s?”
“And that makes it all right? You didn’t even say which friend, and I called several but nobody knew—”
“You did what?” Mortified, I glance at Micah, who’s half-lying in all his naked and aroused glory next to me. “Mom, I’m an adult. You have to stop doing that.”
“How can you blame me? You like wandering with filthy beggars and won’t look out for yourself! Joel says you’re still doing it. Of course I’m worried.”
This again? “Well, I’m fine. Talk to you later, Mom.”
“Evie, wait—”
I put the cell down and sigh in frustration. Quickly, I type a text to Joel, letting him know I stayed at a friend’s last night.
I know they all mean well. I’m actually quite a rational person most of the time. But it’s not as if I ran off to Vegas for a month. I even let them know I was staying out, for God’s sake.
Micah runs his hand up and down my arm. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” His touch is calming, and I close my eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. “Parent stuff, you know?”
He says nothing and when I open my eyes he’s looking past me, at the far wall.
“Like, they want to know where I am every minute of the day,” I say, “and think they have a say in who I see and what I do… It’s annoying.” Micah’s face is blank, and as nervousness swamps me I start to talk faster. “Is that normal? I mean, I guess it’s different with boys. Joel is pretty much free to do as he pleases, and I know for most boys it’s like that. What about you? What about your parents?”
“What about them?” Micah mutters and leaves the bed. He stands in the middle of the room, facing away from me, his body tense, every muscle outlined in his strong back.
“Are you okay?” I hesitate, the sheet wrapped around me. “Micah?”
“Fine,” he snaps.
I gape at his back. Unexpectedly, my eyes sting. Gathering the sheet around me, I slip out of bed and pad to the door. I don’t know where I’m going, but I need to pull myself together.
“Ev, wait…” Micah intercepts me before I reach the door, his hand heavy on my shoulder. He slips his arms around my waist and turns me around. “Wait.”
“What?” I mumble.
Uncertainty flickers across his face. His hands move to my hips, holding me gently but securely.
“Sorry,” he says, his chin dipping to his chest. From where I stand, I have a great view of his square jaw and high cheekbones, the sexy ruffled state of his blond hair. “Please don’t go yet.”
Standing this close to him is different from lying down on his bed. He looks huge, powerful, dwarfing me. My pulse accelerates, and yet it’s not from fear. I’m not scared he’ll hurt me in any way. The only thing I feel is need– the need to be closer, always closer to him, to burrow inside him, and it’s just crazy. I barely know him.
The thought makes me pull back, and the uncertainty flashes again over his features, like distant lightning. “Please, Ev. My parents… I just don’t remember them much.”
My mouth opens. but no words come out. I didn’t expect this. I also didn’t expect him to start talking. For me. To stop me from going.
“It’s okay,” I say quietly, reaching up to grip his biceps. “It’s none of my business. I never thought…”
“My dad left when I was very little. My mom was never home.” He gives a rueful smile and a slight, apologetic roll of his shoulders. “Then came foster care and foster families, and they were all different in how they treated me. So…”
So he has no real feel for what parents normally do.
Crap. Of course he doesn’t. Come to think of it… His smile is still in place, but it’s tight and etched with sadness. He told his tale so quickly I almost missed the fact he skimmed over lots of stuff. Important stuff. The most important: an absent father. An absent mother. Foster family after foster family. No stability. No home.
My heart aches for him. I rise on my tiptoes and kiss him, our lips brushing, and then he draws me flush against him and kisses me thoroughly, exploring my mouth with his tongue, flooding me with his dark taste, making me want him again.
His arousal presses between us, steel-hard and hot. I moan when he slides his hands behind me to cup my ass and grinds his hard-on against my belly. He walks me backward until my knees hit the bed, and we fall on it. His mouth moves over my body, scorching and urgent. I’m lost in a storm of sensation, pleasure assaulting me on every side, arousal making my center throb with painful intensity.
Then he pulls back for a moment, leaving me writhing on the mattress, and I hear the crinkle of foil as he takes out a condom and puts it on.
He leans over me again, a question in his eyes. His arms tremble and his chest heaves. His cock nudges my opening, and I can’t help a moan at the feel of it. I love how he holds back until he’s sure I want it, despite being painfully hard and barely able to stop himself.
And this barely reined-in control when it comes to being with me… I love it, too.
“Micah,” I whisper and reach down b
etween us to touch his erection. He’s throbbing through the thin rubber, and he gasps when I guide him inside me.
Oh God, he feels amazing, stretching me, filling me. His stomach muscles contract. His hips roll, and I cry out at the waves of pleasure washing through me. I never knew I’d be so vocal in sex—never was before. His face dips down for a kiss, silencing me, and for a fleeting second, I wonder if he thinks someone will hear, if he lives alone in this apartment or not—but he grabs my hips, lifting me, entering me deeper, and all thought is erased in another riptide of unbearable pleasure that borders on pain.
Holy crap. I can’t stop myself from crying out again as my orgasm starts, rising in me like a flame, making me thrash under him and sob for breath. His mouth is on mine again, stealing the sounds, his tongue thrusting just as he snaps his hips faster.
Isn’t this a sign of addiction—wanting something—someone—more and more every time?
His cock swells bigger inside me, sending new waves of pleasure down my spine. I draw back and force my eyes to remain open, fixed on his face, to see the moment he tips over the edge.
And he does. A grimace contorts his features, and he drives deep inside me, stilling, then rolls his hips again.
“Fuck,” he whispers breathlessly, “oh shit, Ev…”
His arms give out, and he rolls next to me, panting harshly, pulling me to his chest. Cradled like that, I listen to his pounding heart, and it hits me that he always says my name when he comes.
For some reason, it makes me smile.
***
Going back to work, to normal life, feels like a slap in the face. I feel I’m still dreaming. Then again, the guy watching from across the street is back. He’s smoking and staring holes into me. Jesus.
Well, if this is Blake’s doing, posting a lookout man to watch me, he’ll be disappointed. Not doing anything of interest anyway, and hey, watching isn’t hurting anyone.
It only makes me feel like shit.
Cassie takes a look at me, and her eyes widen. “Oh. My. God.” She squeals, grabs my hand and drags me to the changing rooms and closes the door. “Who is it?”