Until June (Until Her 2)

“All fucking day, I’ve been living with the knowledge that, because of me, you’ve been fucking violated again.”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“He followed me to your house!” he roars, tearing his hand through his hair. “My fucking brother broke into your house and scared you.”

“I’m fine, and it’s just stuff. It’s not a big deal,” I tell him quietly, as I stand and move within reach of him but stop when his eyes darken.

“Not a big deal,” he repeats in a tone I’ve never heard from him before, one that has me thinking I should have chosen my words more wisely.

“You ran out of your house in a towel, clutching a pair of scissors to your chest scared out of your fucking mind.”

“Okay, that was bad, but I was okay, and what happened is not your fault. You didn’t tell him to break in to my house, and you didn’t help him do it.” I rest my hands against his chest and press closer to him. “Stop beating yourself up.” His eyes move over my face and his arms wrap tight, holding me close. “You should have talked to me,” I scold him softly.

“I didn’t want this to affect you.”

“Yeah, well, when you act like a jerk, that kinda has an effect on me,” I point out the obvious, watching his lips twitch, but then all humor leaves his face and he closes the scant distance between us until his breath is mingled with mine.

“You’re falling in love with me again?” he asks, and I feel my body tighten.

“Evan.” I press against his chest, not ready to go there again, not even close.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ll wait,” he says quietly, holding me more firmly.

“E—” I don’t even get his name out before his mouth is on mine and his hands are on my ass, lifting me up. My legs automatically twine around his hips, right before the bed is under me and his body is covering mine. “I thought you were tired,” I breathe, as his hands move from my ass, up the back of my nightie, ripping it over my head.

“Not anymore,” he mutters, right before his mouth is back on mine, his tongue sweeping in as one of his hands roams over my stomach and down between my legs. The first touch of his fingers to my clit has my mouth pulling from his, my back arching off the bed, and my head pressing deeper into the mattress.

“Give me your eyes, beautiful.”

Dipping my chin toward my chest, our eyes lock and I watch him kiss his way down my body. His wide shoulders push my thighs apart, and then his mouth is a breath away from my pussy. Raising my hips toward him, I see him grin then drop his face lower and bury his tongue inside of me. I lose his eyes when mine close and a moan climbs up my throat.

“Is this why you didn’t wear panties to bed, June?” he asks against me. “Did you want my mouth between your legs? Did you want me to eat you, baby?”

Pressing my core closer to his mouth, I hear him chuckle before he latches on to my clit, and I move my hands from the sheets to his hair, and my legs attempt to tighten.

“Look at me,” he commands, and I mewl in disappointment at the loss of his sweet torture. “Eyes.”

My eyes shoot open and my head lifts when two thick fingers plunge into me and curve up, hitting my g-spot. Moaning, I move up to my elbows and watch his mouth go back to work.

“I’m so close,” I whisper. My legs start to shake and my eyes start to slide closed. His free hand slides up my inner thigh, over my belly, and then his thumb and middle finger tug my nipple hard. Just like that, I’m done. The orgasm that was building explodes, rushing through my blood stream like wildfire, burning every part of me from the inside out. Falling to my back, I hold on to the sheets and try to catch my breath as my body comes back to itself.

“You taste good,” he growls, as my eyes slide open and the fingers of his right hand wrap around my calf, curving it around his waist. “So fucking good.”

His fingers, wet with my essence, swipe across my lips.

His mouth comes down on mine.

His tongue slips between my lips, his taste mingled with mine coursing over my taste buds, as he thrusts deep inside of me.

Ripping my mouth from his, my fingers dig into the muscles of his biceps and I gasp from the feeling of being full of him, stretched by him, and surrounded by him in every way.

Taking my hands from his biceps, he laces our fingers together, placing them above my head as his thrusts slow. His face moves to my neck, where he whispers softly, “I’ll always love you enough for the both of us. Always.” The sincerity in his tone has unexpected tears climbing up my throat and, doing the only thing I can do, I wrap my legs tighter around his hips, hold his hands more firmly in his grasp, and turn my head toward him, opening my mouth when his covers my own. I may be too scared to tell him how I feel out loud, but my body is his, just like my heart. His mouth leaves mine as he rolls to his back. “Ride me, baby.”