Page 49 of Oblivion

Spinning on my heel, I march to the closet and pull out athletic leggings, a sports bra, and a cute cropped sweater. My pussy twinges a little as I lift my legs to step into my panties, but I ignore the feeling pulling them up. Despite the shower, as I cover myself with the lace, I still feel…full of him, and I know that soon my underwear will be soaked and coated in…him.

If I try to go back in the shower, I know he’ll follow, and as he insisted on cleaning me, he must know that he hasn’t done a great job of getting his cum out of me.

At this moment, I have two choices. I can march into the bathroom and try to wipe the cum that is slowly seeping out of me away, or I can ignore it and not acknowledge the fact that he deliberately left me this way, knowing what would happen.

I’m not sure why, but I have a feeling he’s waiting for me to try to clean up so he can use it as an excuse to fuck me again. So as uncomfortable as I’ll be wearing wet panties, I pretend like nothing’s wrong and drag the sports bra I picked over my head. Quickly pulling on my leggings and sweater, I drag a brush through my hair, then twist it into a messy wet bun on top of my head.

“There you are,” he says reverently.

“What?” I croak.

“You look like you again.” He scoffs lightly. “It’s nice.”

“Are you saying you prefer me in leisure wear with no makeup and my hair a mess than in the conservative stuff my mama’s not offended by?” I ask sarcastically.

“I love the real you, not the person you pretend to be to please your parents and your ex,” he says, the honesty so apparent in his words, there’s no way he could be lying.

With the wind officially taken out of my sails, I sag. “Stop being nice. It makes it harder to hate you,” I whine.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll give you plenty of reasons to hate me,” he says softly.

It takes me another ten minutes for me to brush my teeth and put on a little mascara and some lip gloss. Once I’m done, Evan takes my hand and tugs me down the stairs and into his bedroom.

The moment we step inside, I blink, wondering if I’m seeing things because his room is nothing like I expected it to be.

Even though this house is nothing like a college dorm, I guess I was kind of expecting his room to be…well, I guess an average college dorm. I don’t know why. My room is beautiful, as are the rooms that Starling, January, and Bunny all share with their husbands, so I don’t know why I expected Evans’s room to be different, but I did.

Once I’m fully inside, he closes the door behind me. The walls are a soft white. The wooden furniture is a dark wood, so dark it almost looks black. The soft furnishings are a mixture of warm creams and rich sage greens that all complement each other. Just like the other suites, there’s a sitting room area with a large TV and sofa, then a bedroom filled with an enormous, modern yet simple four-poster bed. The frame is bare, with no adornments or fussy drapes, and the whole space is classy, elegant, and beautiful.

“Sit,” Evan says, leading me to the bed, then lifting me onto it. Caging me in place with his hands on either side of me, he presses his lips to mine, kissing me hard and fast. When he pulls back, he drops the towel he has wrapped around his waist, giving me an uninhibited view of his rock-hard cock, before he heads for the closet and disappears inside.

The weather in California is much warmer than in DC, and I’m grateful for the warm early spring weather when he emerges wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt that clings to his thick muscled biceps in the very best way.

I have a thing for arms. There’s something very sexy about muscular biceps and triceps. Armporn is a very real thing, and in that shirt, Evan could be a centerfold.

Taking a seat beside me on his bed, he leans forward to pull on his socks, then straightens, turning to look at me with an amused smirk on his full lips. “I’ve got to say, Wild One, I was expecting more of a fight than this.”

“I’m still tired. Give me time,” I retort, wishing I actually felt a tenth of the anger that I should right now.

Chuckling, he nods. “I’ll look forward to it. Let’s go and have breakfast.” Jumping up from the bed, he reaches for me, grabbing me around the waist before he effortlessly throws me over his shoulder.

“Evan, put me down,” I shriek, pounding at his back with my fist.

“No can do, Wild One. I’m a caveman showing off his prize. Now hold on tight.”

My protests become squeals as he jogs out of his room and down the stairs, bouncing me on his shoulder while I hold him in a death grip, trying not to fall.

“Look what I found,” he announces loudly as he strides across the foyer and into the kitchen.

“Sammy,” Starling shouts, jumping out of Sebastian’s lap and bounding around the table to me. “Put her down,” she demands.

Tipping me upright, Evan twists me around and pins me to him with his arm beneath my breasts the moment my feet touch the floor.

“You can go now. I need my bestie,” Starling chirps, waving her hand to shoo Evan away, but instead of releasing me, his hold on me tightens.

“She’s mine,” he growls, and the animosity in his tone makes goose bumps pebble across my skin.

“Evan,” I say in warning.

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