Page 59 of The Forbidden
He’s hard for me.
Evan Maxwell is hard for me.
My jaw slackens, my kisses faltering, and sensing it, he pulls back, his desire filled gaze, locking on me.
“Evan,” I breathe.
He groans, kissing me again, his hands slipping beneath my skirt. His fingers trace the edges of my thong, and when he dips a finger beneath the silk, running it slowly down my bare skin, I moan.
“Fuck,” he growls, pulling back to look at me. He pauses his ministrations, his eyes on mine, silently asking for permission. I open my mouth to speak, but the desire seems to have gone to my head and turned me mute, so I nod my consent. “Jesus fucking Christ, you’re soaked. Is this for me?” I nod again, breathless. He groans, his head dropping to the crook of my neck. He inhales deeply, like I’m the air he needs to breath. I shiver, my heart hammering in my chest. He runs a finger slowly from my clit down to my slit. No man has ever touched me down there and the fact that it’s Evan, means everything to me.
He circles my hole, once, twice, and arousal leaks from me. I don’t know whether I should be embarrassed but, from the rumbling of his chest, I assume he likes it, and that gives me confidence. I grind against him, just as he pushes a finger inside me. I tense. Evan freezes. One beat passes, then another. And for a moment I think he might stop. But then he groans, biting down on my neck as he slides his finger in and out of me.
“Christ, you’re tight,” he mutters.
“Don’t stop,” I whimper, riding his finger like my life depends on it.
“Not a fucking chance,” he grates out, pushing another digit inside me. He licks a trail up my neck, and I shudder. He stretches me out, and the heavy weight of desire settles low in my stomach. Evan pumps into me, his thumb caressing my clit. I ride his fingers, chasing my release. My head drops to his shoulder, legs shake, and I bite into his neck, feeling an orgasm take hold.
“Evan,” I moan around a mouthful of skin.
His hot breath hits my ear, and when he speaks, his voice is low, sensual, and it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever heard. “Come for me, Brat.”
His command is my undoing. My body convulses, my climax washing over every inch of my twitching body. I slump against him, boneless and dazed as I snuggle into him. I smile, feeling content, happy, relaxed, satisfied, sleepy.
Evan holds me for a moment, but then he pulls back, forcing me to lift my head. His tongue runs across his bottom lip, his eyes searching my face. His mouth parts, and I wait with bated breath for him to speak, to acknowledge what just happened. But it never comes. He slips his fingers from my pussy, untangles me from his body, and sets me on my feet.
He takes a step back, running a hand through his hair.
“This should’ve never happened,” he mutters, then quickly leaves.
The door clicks shut behind him.
Rejection hits me and I slide down the wall, trembling. Hurt. Confused. My mind is in overdrive as I mentally go over what happened. A smile curls my lips.
Because two things become crystal clear.
I am not the delusional little brat Evan thinks I am.
And as much as he is trying to fight it…
That sexy, stubborn, infuriating asshole wants me.
Chapter 27
Evan
“Longtime no see, Maxwell,” says Carson Carrington, one of the four brothers that own Elite, the high-end sex club my friends and I belong to.
I’m not even sure why I came. After what happened with Anais in my office, I needed a distraction – something to drown out my racing thoughts, the memory of her moans as she came on my fingers. This is the only place I could think of. But deep down I know nothing will help. Not when her scent still lingers on me.
I lied to her when I said I had a date. A small part of me wanted to hurt her for the way she is burrowing her way under my skin. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t for me to have my fingers buried in her cunt. The anguish in her lilac eyes, then her smart mouth, calling me out for my shit… I fucking lost it.
I’d never admit it aloud, but Anais was right. I really am fucking delusional.
“Carrington,” I grunt, draining the last of my scotch and signaling the bartender for another.
“I figured some poor, unsuspecting woman finally tied your ass down, and that’s why we haven’t seen you,” he drawls, amusement clear in his voice.
