No more nannies.
My cock glides against her wet panties, before I hook my finger into them and pull them to the side, coating my dick in her juices. My head rubs against her clit, and within a moment, she’s quivering.
“Shit, yes, Evan!”
Her muscles jolt, spasm and pulse as she accepts my pleasure, stretching her legs wider. I lean down and take her clit into my mouth, my teeth scraping against it for a brief moment before I go back to flicking it with my tongue. She’s sweet like honey. My taste buds tingle.
“Don’t stop, Evan. You’re so fucking good.”
This woman really knows how to test me, and before her orgasm peaks, I pull away, leaving her with a pout.
I chuckle. “You said you were imagining me fucking you senseless?”
I get a nod in return.
“Well, how about we make it a reality, then?” Our hips collide, and I work into her at a pace that has her nails raking into my scalp. Seeing her this way is like a fucking drug. I’m hooked. “Tell me who’s fucking you right now. Tell me who will fuck you for the rest of your life.”
“You, Evan. Only you.” She’s breathless, body shaking.
Her pussy is so wet, so warm around me.
“Fuck, you’re so unbelievably beautiful, Flo. So fucking perfect. Are you going to come already?”
I take her legs and wrap them around my waist, letting me hit her sweet spot that she knows she won’t be able to last in for more than a minute. My hips roll.
Flo raises her chin in challenge, which makes me raise a brow. She presses her lips together, fighting a smile.
“You think you can hold off that orgasm, Flo? Is that what you’re trying to do? You’re a filthy girl.” My thrusts strengthen. “Let’s see if you can, then.”
Her eyes squeeze shut.
“Nope, let me see those pretty blues of yours.”
Adhering to my request, Flo meets my gaze.
I’m so in love. So in love with her eyes. With the way she looks at me. With the way she smiles at me.
“Holy shit, Evan, I… I…”
“Want to come?” I grit out, hands curving over her hip bones. “Then come, baby. I know you have to.”
“Evan,” she whimpers with glassy orbs, wet slapping noises filling the kitchen.
“Flo,” I say in the same tone, unable to hold off any longer.
We both erupt, the sound of our harmonious grunts and moans reaching my ears. I crush her to me in the wake of our orgasms, sweaty bodies sliding against one another.
“Flo McKenna.” Saying her name this way, at this time, feels like a declaration of true love, without actually needing to use the words.
She glances up with a quirked smile, hands stroking my stubbly cheeks. “Evan West.”
Epilogue: Flo
Paint Day—I can’t say it’s a tradition I’ve ever heard of, but Leo is adamant that it’s a holiday that must be celebrated, so we’ve set up easels in the living room and have pushed all the furniture into the corners so they don’t get messy.
Evan watches his son set up the paints on the coffee table, and I grab Leo’s kiddie stool so he can reach his easel without having to go up on his tippy toes.
Taco, the brown rescue rabbit, sits by our feet patiently—I believe he thinks he’s more of a dog than a bunny, to be honest—looking between us for something to happen. Ever since Cheese, Leo was adamant about rescuing animals and fostering them while they wait for their forever home. We’re on our third now.
