I lick my lips; my curvaceous ass is ready for more. Yet his hand rests on my cheek, his thumb finding its way to the entrance of my asshole. Not entering but rooted and ready.
“You once said not to skimp on time while I’m fucking you, right?”
Fuck, I realize my punishment is caused by my big-ass mouth. I’d told him we could give each of our parents twenty minutes’ tops when we were preparing to deal with them. And, oh, just our luck. “Yes, but—”
“But I aim to please. Tony said your mom cooked, and they’re expecting us at six p.m. sharp. So I’m heading to the shower. There is ample room, and you are always free to join me. Just keep in mind, I am going to fuck you until your throat is raw tonight once we return and not a moment sooner.”
“I’d like that… right at this very moment…” I smile over at him, a man of his word.
He backs away, giving a cocky two-finger salute. His chiseled, smug face contorts into a full-blown grin as he turns around and leaves me posted at the headboard.
Falling into a seated position, I rejoined, “I fucking hate you, Evan.”
“And I love you too, Reese.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to remind him that he owes me a pinky finger—his favorite pinky finger, but he won that back during one of our nightly strolls at an art gallery. We’d made a bet on who was closer in gaging exactly what some monstrosity of a canvas was.
I hightail it out of the bed, deciding that even if he doesn’t fuck me in the shower, I’ll be satisfied either way. The unsettling feeling which reminds me that my life is far from perfect begins to creep in. My railroad of a so-called-life hasn’t been derailed in a while… Lolita had left an ominous voicemail about tonight, and I’m unable to help but wonder.
Dear God, don’t let anymore tragedy strike anytime soon.
27
Evan
“I hope I made enough bombolonases,” Reese says from the passenger seat, tapping a hand against the Tupperware container, which is filled of the Italian dessert donuts.
“Babe, I’m sure you made more than enough, and they’ll be great,” I try to appease her. Yet, she’s sitting on pins and needles at the thought of having dinner with our parents tonight. We took a steaming hot shower, and I damn near had to kick myself in the mouth for pulling that whack-ass alpha move. Yeah, Reese talks shit, but I quickly would have shut her up just as good as not giving her the dick.
Reese didn’t have a stressed bone in her body until we hopped on the freeway over an hour ago.
“Oh shit,” she sighs deeply.
I glance over, “What? What’s wrong?”
“I bought the perfect blend of coffee. We should turn around, Evan.”
“Nah, not gonna happen. We just weathered rush hour, Reese. I’m pretty sure my dads got good enough coffee to pair with the bombolonases.”
Seconds later, she speaks again, “Does my mom know about us?”
Finally, the reason for her fidgeting and discomfort. We haven’t visited them since the quote-unquote wedding. They’d come to see Reese and Jamie a few times, but Captain Raynor was on everyone’s asses about the abandoned paperwork, at that time.
I reach over to take her hand. “Wouldn’t be too bad if Lolita did.”
“Don’t be an asshole, Evan.” She tries to move her hand from mine, but my fingers have a firm grip.
“That was not my intentions. Reese, we’re not two hot and horny-ass kids sneaking into each other’s bedrooms.” I glance toward her, grin devilish, “Though, I might be willing to…”
“I’m not spending the night at your dad’s place,” she argues.
Home… Just listening to Reese utter those words brings us even closer. Since the death of Riker, my stepsister has blossomed before my eyes. The hesitance weighing her shoulders seems to have evaporated.
“You don’t want to finish what we started at my pops? Great, I’ll pull over,” I shift the wheel a bit.
Reese slaps at my arm, and we both laugh. “I’ll screw you when we get back home, thank you very much.”
Again silence ensues. Up until this moment, it has been peaceful, just being in each other’s presence, but her thoughts are crashing into each other over there, so I ask, “How’s Jamie?”
She gives a snarky chuckle. “Very well. After the International found out he stayed at the county hospital overnight, he came to town indefinitely and has a personal fleet of servants catering to Jamie’s every need.”
“The International?” I mouth.
“Oh, his real name is Chu.” Her cheeks flush a golden-apricot color. “We have this nasty, hard to break habit…”
“Of lumping men into descriptive categories. Like Suit and International and…” I pause since Reese hides her shame beneath her hand. I reach over and pull her hand down. Then continue with, “You used to refer to me as Suit and The Italian.”
“Not The Italian. Just The Suit, sheesh, Evan, great way to put me on the friggen spot. I’m sorry.”
I smile. “You’re not sorry, you’re mine.”
When we arrive, I unlock the door. A maid is descending the steps with fresh folded towels in her hand. “Hello, Evan, Miss Dunham. Your parents are in the living room.”
As we walk through the sitting area, Reese seems to deflate. Her mother indicated that she had something of the utmost importance to tell us. Reese doesn’t want me to touch her, I respect that as we enter the room.
She nods to her mom and my dad, behavior suggesting she pursues lots of space.
“Oh, my son, he’s famous these days.” Tony pats my back, and it’s all big, hard hugs for us.
“You are quite the hero,” Lolita says, her bright, twinkling eyes roaming over me and then Reese and back again. Reading people comes easy, yet I am unable to determine if Reese’s mom has perceived our connection. “The two of you, please sit. Sit. We have to talk.”
Tony is the strong pillar as he drapes
