I take off my earrings in the mirror, wearing nothing but a thin nightdress and black laced lingerie that I packed just for this trip. Everything about today has felt like a dream. One I’m not ready to wake up from. Even better than a dream? Evan Branson leaning against the doorway, his arms across his chest in nothing but grey sweatpants. His eyes roam all over my body in the mirror, instantly making my whole body flush with heat. I blush too easily when he’s around.
He’s spent the whole night just doing that – looking at me and making my face burn.
“God, Branson,” I groan, shaking my head at him in the mirror. “You’re so obsessed with me. You need to stop looking at me like that.”
“Can’t,” he whispers, slowly walking towards me as a grin crawls up his face. When he gets to me, he cages me in with his hands on either side of the vanity, kissing me on my shoulder lightly.
“I bet you wanted me the day you walked me home in the rain. When you came rushing after me like I was a damsel in distress,” I say, laughing. I giggle as his kiss tickles me on my shoulder, as he keeps his eyes locked with mine.
“No,” he whispers. “Before that.”
“When I accused you of stealing the whiteboard?” I ask, my eyebrows pinched together. He shakes his head lightly.
“When you shoved bacon in my face at Christmas in your apartment,” he admits. If I thought my body was on fire before, I was wrong. This is exactly what it feels like to burst into flames.
“That was over a year ago, Branson. You’re lying to my face right now.”
“I’m not. In fact, it was probably way before that, but I don’t want to scare you off when I’ve only just got you,” he says, twisting me around to face him. Before I can process it, his strong hands have lifted me onto the bathroom counter, his fingers under the skirt of my dress as he rips off my panties in one motion. I gasp.
“Hey, I just bought these,” I scold. He silences me with a kiss, pushing his hot, wet mouth to mine, letting me fall right into him, knowing he’ll catch me. He pulls apart, his chest heaving as much as mine is.
“Good thing I prefer you without clothes on isn’t it, Angel?” he says, slipping his hand to where I’m aching for him.
“I’m not your angel,” I bite out.
“No. You’re my fucking everything.”
“Keep your hands there, pretty boy,” she demands, tightening her ribbon around my wrists.
I don’t know how we got to this point so quickly. One minute I was finger-fucking her on the bathroom counter, watching her moan into my shoulder and the next, we’re in the bedroom, I’m on my back as she straddles me, her pretty tits bouncing in my face as she ties her ribbon around my wrists, securing it to the headboard.
“You think I’m pretty?” I nudge my head up, trying to catch my lips with hers, but she tilts her head away from me.
She leans up off my chest, fishing into the bedside drawer as she retrieves one of the condoms I bought. She rolls it on me and without any warning, with no teasing or edging, she slides my cock into her warm pussy, making me feel straight at home. As she sinks down, her body adjusting to my size, she braces her palms on my chest, rolling her hips slightly, causing her tits to fall further into my face.
“Fuck, Ev,” she moans, throwing her head back. I’m hardly doing anything to her, unable to guide her with my hands, but she knows how to make herself feel good and it’s a fucking sight. “Everything about you feels good. I hate it.”
“I know you love it, sweetheart,” I say through a desperate groan as she continues to ride me, her pace picking up. Using her palms to steady herself, she rolls her hips back and forth, pressing her clit onto me to cause more friction.
Her body creates the most obscene image as she gets lost in the moment – her head flying back, her back arched, her nipples hard peaks as she cries out my name. Her whole body is on display for me now, her golden skin glowing right in front of me. God, I want to touch her so bad.
“Scarlett, you’re killing me,” I bite out, but she doesn’t stop. She continues to get herself off, not caring about the amount of pain I’m in. She starts to move faster, and I try to help by bucking my hips up, meeting her bounces, driving her closer to the edge.
“You’ve got to stop doing that or I’m going to come,” she says, her sentence being broken up by pants. She slows down her pace and I slow down mine as she pressed her clit to my skin, rubbing herself against me.
They’re something so maddening about not being able to touch her, but still watching her get off while riding me.
“I wish you could see yourself right now. You’re being such a good girl for me,” I say as her pace quickens, those brown eyes piercing mine. Her eyes gloss over, and she squeezes them shut. “What have I told you, Angel? You look at me when you come for me. Got it?”
A loud moan pierces through the air. “God…Evan…” Her words turn into a garbled moan as she reaches her climax, her body trembling as she collapses on my chest. I want to touch her, soothe her, tell her that she did a good job, but she hasn’t untied my hands yet.
After a few seconds of uninterrupted silence other than her pants, she releases my hands from her ribbon.
She smooths her fingers over my wrists, kissing me there. “Was that good for you?”
“It would have been fantastic if I could’ve touched you,” I say, finally grabbing her face and kissing her angrily.
I push her and she pushes back, constantly battling each other for what we want even though it’s the same thing. Her body relaxes into me, and I finally get to use my hands to touch her everywhere.
* * *
Time passes by in a haze as we shower — again — as the party still rages on downstairs. I don’t know why we didn’t stay out for longer, especially when our friends were enjoying themselves. I wouldn’t have minded, but we were starting to get too touchy, and it didn’t feel appropriate around her family. I swear I’d have her attached to me if I could.
For someone who couldn’t stand me a few months ago, she clings to me like a koala as we lay in the bed, and I love it. I know that what she feels for me is deeper than we’re both admitting, but I’m letting her come to terms with that in her own time. If it means we’re going to spend nights like these, her legs wrapped around my waist as she rests her head against my chest as I stroke my hand down her spine, knowing it relaxes her, I’m fine with that.
“You’re mine, right?” she whispers into my skin.
“I’m yours,” I reply instantly.
She smiles, suddenly giddy and full of life, leaning up on my chest. “Mine,” she says into my skin on my chest, kissing me there. “Mine,” she presses again with another kiss. She lays back down on my chest, holding onto me tight. “All fucking mine.”
“Are you branding me, sweetheart?”
“I don’t want to lose you,” she murmurs, her voice heavy with sleep. I brush her hair out of her face, smoothing it down.
“You won’t. You wouldn’t need to do this to prove that. You’ve had me for years, Scar. Fucking years.”
