by Lucy Smoke
Evan kicks open a door, and I find myself in a bedroom. He crosses the room, sets the plates down on a desk, and leans over to open the window next to it. A chilly breeze blows through, and he looks back at me before crawling out the window with the blankets. A minute later, he returns without the blankets and grabs the plates from the desk, crawling back out the window.
“Come on,” he says, extending his head outside.
I follow, trying not to spill the water as I step through the window. Once I’m outside, I see the roof is flat on the part of the house, and I shuffle my feet over to where Evan laid one of the blankets down. He sits and pats the blanket next to him, and I sink beside him.
“So, this is your favorite part of the house?”
“Yep. I used to come here all the time as a boy, just to escape.”
“What did you need to escape from when you were a boy?” I take a bite of my sandwich and chew, glancing out at the surroundings but not able to tell much with it being dark out.
He doesn’t answer.
“You asked me why I moved back,” he begins and stops haltingly.
“Yes,” I murmur, gulping some water down while the silence stretches on.
“I walked in on my fiancée cheating on me in the flat we shared in London.”
I gasp, and he looks over at me, setting his half-eaten sandwich down.
“Cliché, I know. But she was cheating. I saw it with my own two eyes. I had been at work. It was Christmas Day. I was a bastard for even going into work on Christmas, but it was my largest client, and as the new kid in the business, wanting to make a name for myself, I said yes. It’s my fault.” He pauses, and I stay silent, not wanting to distract him even though I want to reassure him that her cheating is not his fault. “I got halfway to the office, and they called to say they didn’t realize the state of the roads and wouldn’t be able to make it. So, I went home. I guess she wasn’t expecting me back so soon and had invited someone over.”
I continue eating my sandwich, waiting for him to finish the story, but he picks his sandwich up and takes another bite.
“What? You can’t stop right there,” I protest.
He chuckles, his breath coming out in puffs of white that I can see in the moonlight. “Turns out, she was in love. It just wasn’t with me. It was with Juliet Favre, whom she was fucking right in front of me.”
“Wait, she was cheating on you with a woman?”
“It appeared that way.” Evan looks at me and gives a self-deprecating laugh. “She told me she just couldn’t live a lie with me anymore and wanted to be with Juliet. She was just afraid of how her parents would take the news, and so she used me as a beard. I spent two years of my life with her, and she was using me. It makes you stop and think about your life when you find something like that out.” He sets his plate to the side and scoots down, so he can lie back, resting his head on his arm to stare up at the stars. “Lie down. It’s beautiful up here. You can see everything.”
I oblige, lowering myself back, and mimic Evan, resting my head on my arm. I peer up at the night sky, in awe of the millions of stars visible to me right now.
“I guess, ever since then, I’ve found the holiday season hard. It dredges up old memories, and I choose to hide away instead of dealing with them. Finding out that someone you thought had loved you for two years didn’t actually love you can mess with your mind. So, I started seeing Anna—”
“Ms. Potts? For therapy?”
“Yes, and she suggested immersing myself in the Christmas Festival this year to replace my bad memories with something good. So, here we are.”
I can hear the smile in his voice, and I smile too.
“Here we are. Bet you didn’t think you would get stuck with me.”
“I’m glad I got stuck with you, Milly Collins. Even if your great-grandfather stole my family’s land.”
“Hey now.” I giggle, and he laughs.
His words warm me as we lie here, staring at the vibrant stars in the chilly night air. I reach down, grazing his arm with my hand until I find his, threading my fingers through his fingers until they are wound tightly together.
“Thanks for telling me your story.”
He squeezes my hand once and then rolls over, so he’s facing me. His face is close to mine, so close that I can feel the short breaths coming from his mouth. He doesn’t move, and neither do I as we stare at one another. His other hand slowly comes up until he’s cupping my cheek, his thumb rubbing a line across my bottom lip as his chest rises and falls quicker and quicker, keeping time with my own.
“Hey, Evan?” I whisper.
He stills, his thumb stopping in the middle of my lip.
“Yeah?” he whispers back.
“Kiss me.”
8
Milly
His breath hitches, and he withdraws his thumb. His eyes are darting back and forth, searching my face, making sure this is what I want. I bring my hand up and cover his where it rests on my cheek, and he makes his decision, lowering his head inch by excruciating inch.
As soon as his lips land on mine, I see stars—literally. My eyes fly open and latch on to the sky above us, my surprise at the sensations coursing through me causing my sudden departure from the usual closed-eyes kisses I’m used to. But no kiss that I’ve had before can compare with this one. It’s like all of my life has been leading up to this one moment here, and my body just knows. It knows that this man is the perfect one to touch it, caress it, kiss it.
Evan opens his mouth, deepening the kiss, and I part mine, letting him sweep his tongue inside, tasting me. He suddenly pulls back, and we stare at each other, panting, our chests heaving in unison.
“What is it?” I ask, afraid he wants to stop.
He shakes his head. “Nothing. I … it just feels different.” He runs his fingers across his lips and looks at me again.
“Different bad?” I push up and rest back on my elbows, causing him to roll off of me a bit.
“The best fucking different I could ever imagine,” he murmurs, leaning his head back down and tasting my lips again.
I run my hands along his torso, feeling the ridges of muscles made by long sessions in the pool, and I sigh, squeezing my legs together at the throbbing that has started.
Evan loops one hand behind my head, running his fingers through my hair and lifting, bringing us even closer. I reach for his hem, slightly pulling his shirt up and running my hands underneath, giggling as he jumps a little at the cold touch of my fingers.
“Evan?” I whisper.
He pulls back. “Yes?”
“Do you want to go inside?” I want this with him so badly. But not in the cold. I want to be able to explore each part of his body without anything hindering us.
“Yes.” He leans back on his knees and then stands, reaching down to grab my hands and pull me up as if I didn’t weigh anything.
“Do you want to get the blankets and—”
“No, leave them. I’ll get them later.”
He’s already tugging me back toward the window, only letting go of my hand to crawl through and then pulling me down the hallway and into a room, shutting the door behind us.
I look around, noting the masculine furniture and bedding, the books organized neatly on a bookshelf and not much else decorating the room but a few pictures here and there. I guess I was expecting something a little homier.
Evan backs me up against the closed door and captures my mouth with his again before leaving a trail of hot kisses down my neck, his hands working underneath the hem of my sweater, slowly pulling it up. He steps back as he does so, staring at my stomach and then bra as each inch is bared. He looks at me like a man starved, as if I were a juicy plate of dinner and he was ready to eat me at a moment’s notice. I love it. I relish it. I’ve never had a man look at me like that. Most men I’ve been with were in the moment for themselves. But Evan looks like he wants to worship each part of my body. I smile, biting my lip as I raise my arms and let him pull
my sweater the rest of the way off.
“God, Milly.” He places his hands on my waist and lowers his head back down to kiss one shoulder and then the top of the swell of each breast before laying a reverent kiss on my other shoulder. Hooking both fingers in the cups of my bra, he pulls them down, letting my breasts spill out, and he stares at them for a moment before looking back at me. “It’s been … well, I haven’t touched anyone in three years.”
“Not even yourself?”
I smile at him, and he chuckles.
“Oh, I’ve touched myself plenty, but I wanted you to know that I’m a little out of practice.”
“So am I. Let’s practice on each other.”
He swallows and nods once before dipping his head to take one nipple in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue, and I wrap one hand around the back of his head, holding him in place as I arch into him. I could live here forever, right against this door, with his tongue on me and his scent wrapping around my head, intoxicating me. His hands reach for my jeans, deftly unbuttoning them and pushing, his mouth never leaving my nipple. I lean back a little, using my hands and legs to get the jeans the rest of the way off, as his hands land on my hips, thumbs rubbing my skin.
I grab his shirt, pushing it up so I can get a look at his abs, and he lets go of my nipple with a pop, stepping back and crossing his arms at the hem to pull it off in one fell swoop. I stare for a moment, the cut of his abs mesmerizing in the dim light of his room.
“Not a lot to do here but swim,” he says with a shrug.
“I approve,” I whisper and reach out to run my hands across him, feeling his smooth skin on top of hard muscle. So different from my own soft body and so different from the bodies of other guys I’ve been with.
My eyes thank me for the eye candy, and I lightly trail my fingers down until they rest on the top of his jeans. He reaches to unbutton them and kick them off, leaving a trail of clothes in our wake as he loops his hands around and under my ass, squeezing and then lifting me as I wrap my legs around his middle. Our lips meet again in a hungry kiss, one starved by time without intimate contact and desperate for each other.
He walks us to the bed, pausing to softly lay me down, and then climbs on top. His erection digs into my belly as he lowers himself onto me, his lips latching on to my neck and his hands fisting my hair. With a groan, he pushes down, his mouth continuing as he licks my skin, leaving wet kisses all over my breast and stomach before stopping at the apex of my thighs.
His shoulders keep my legs apart before he kneels on the floor next to the bed. Then, he pulls me to the edge, hooking either side of my panties and slowly pulling them down, his eyes fastened on my pussy. Now, as he continues to stare, I’m thankful I went home and showered and trimmed the lady garden.
“You can get closer; it doesn’t bite,” I say with a laugh when he doesn’t move.
“It’s even better than I imagined.”
His eyes meet mine, and I stop laughing.
“You’ve imagined me like this?”
“More than I probably should have,” he says.
He brings his head closer, inhaling before running his tongue up my seam and flattening it against my clit, pushing down before swirling around it. I arch up, a moan wrenched from my throat at the contact. The sensations are so much better than anything I could ever do to myself. I lie there in a trance, sometimes fisting the sheet, other times his hair as I pull and writhe. I’m already on the cusp of an orgasm, and I’m not even mad about it.
He brings his hand up and inserts one finger into me, hooking it forward and pressing up, hitting the small bundle of nerves inside me. Then, he continues to lick and suck, pushing me over the other side of pleasure, and my entire body goes rigid, the pulses shooting from my core, out to my arms and legs, and back in again, leaving me boneless on the bed. He raises his head, grinning at me with glistening lips.
“I can’t get enough of you.”
I like a man who can speak his mind.
I scoot back on the bed, and he stands, watching me unhook my bra, flinging it somewhere in the room. He growls, his eyes burning a hole through me as he drops his briefs, his cock bobbing in all its glory.
“Come here,” I say, licking my lips and bringing one finger up and hooking it back toward me, motioning him to bring himself closer.
“I want to be inside you,” he says. Gritting his teeth, he reaches over, grabs a condom from the bedside table, and slips it on.
“I’ll taste you another time,” I whisper as he gets on his knees above me.
He pulls both my legs up, hooking them over his forearms, as his cock probes my opening, slick with my cum.
“I’m going to hold you to it.”
“I’m going to hold it in my mouth.” I grin up at him.
He thrusts into me with a moan, and I swear my eyes roll back in my head as he starts up a steady rhythm, hands digging into my legs with the most delicious pressure. He’s big, and he fills me up to the brim, to where I feel it in my core every time he pulls out.
His forehead is glistening with sweat as he lets go of my legs, lowering himself over me to kiss the tip of my nose while still moving in and out. Resting on his elbows, he rubs both thumbs across my cheeks, staring at me with a strange look on his face. I try to decipher it, settling on awe. He looks at me with wonder, maybe even reverence, as he keeps up his slow tempo, and I feel this connection in my soul, not just my body.
It’s weird to have these feelings after a week or two, but maybe the universe knew what it was doing, putting Evan and me together. Maybe, just maybe, he’s meant for me.
Evan rises back up and starts thrusting faster, putting one finger down to circle my clit, his other hand tweaking my nipple. I wrap my legs around him while my hands grip his arms and hold on for dear life as another orgasm wrenches through me. I can’t remember the last time, if ever, I had two orgasms in one day or this close together. Evan is close behind me, his groans joining my groans as we finish together, happy, sated, and alive in each other.
“Are you good?” he asks, staring down at me.
I smile. “I’m perfectly amazing,” I whisper, reaching to caress his face with one hand.
He lowers back on top of me, his sweat mixing with mine as our bodies are connected at every point, and he presses a kiss to my lips. I can feel his mouth tilt up in a grin, and I giggle, the joy infectious. I feel happy. For the first time in a long time.
9
Milly
I’m twirling my fingertips through the smattering of hair on Evan’s chest when he tenses. With my head lying on his shoulder, I can see the moment his whole body goes rigid, and I raise my head to look at him.
“Evan?” I ask, but he’s not looking at me.
He’s looking at some sort of monitor device on his desk that I must have missed in my first sweep of the room. Not that I had much time to look.
“What’s wrong?” I’m getting concerned, and I sit up completely, clutching the sheet to my chest as my eyes ping-pong between Evan and the monitor.
“They’re home.” His words are simple but ominous. His teeth grit together, giving off the distinct impression that he’s not happy about this turn of events.
“Who’s home?” I squint across the room at the monitor, and I make out two people walking down the downstairs hall before I register that we can hear their footsteps.
“Evan, honey! We’re home!” a feminine voice trills out, making its way into Evan’s room.
I clutch the sheet tighter, feeling for all the world like a teenager caught in a boy’s bedroom.
“Your parents?” I hiss.
He cringes. “I forgot they were coming home.” He grimaces and rubs one hand through his hair, mussing it even more than we did a little while ago.
“How do you just forget your parents are coming home? Especially this late at night?”
“They are never here, especially this time of the year. It’s strange, and with everything we’ve been doing, I j
ust didn’t remember.” He pushes up to sitting and peels the covers back, searching for any clothing discarded on the bed.
I clear my throat and point at the floor by the door, and he grins.
“Right.”
I watch him dress, feeling sad that our time has been cut short, but my cheeks redden as I remember what we just did, the time we just shared. Evan throws my clothes, and they land in front of me on the bed. I stare down at them and wonder if he’s going to make me climb out of his window, scale the trellis, and run home.
“Come on. Let’s go say hi,” he says.
I’m momentarily stunned, not expecting him to say that. “You want me to meet your parents?”
“Well, you have to at some point, don’t you?”
“You do know, I’ve met your parents before, right?”
“Yes, but not in this context.” He gestures between us, and I pause.
“What context is this? Hello, I just freshly fucked your son. Nice to meet you?” I slip my sweater back over my head and jump around, trying to get my feet into the legs of my jeans.
“Evan?” His mother’s voice sounds closer this time, and we both freeze.
“I’ll be right there,” he yells back, and then we stare at each other.
“What is this? What are we doing?” I whisper.
He opens his mouth, nothing coming out for a second, and I nod. I brush by him to open the door, but he stops me, a hand on my arm.
“Milly, I like you. That’s something I never thought I would say again, not after what happened in London. I, uh … I’d like to do this more.” He steps closer to me, wrapping his hands around the small of my back, and he pulls me into him. “I’d like to continue seeing you, if you want that?”
