Survival of the Fiercest (11 page)

Ecstasy rips through me when his head lowers and his tongue lavishes licks and sucks around my areola and on the soft sides of my breast. I’m almost begging at the first tentative lick on my nipple. Then his lips close over my aching bud, and I struggle not to come from the strong pulls of his mouth. I need him inside me.

Tugging at his fly, Evan pushes my fingers aside and releases himself with one hand. He bucks when I graze my fingertips over the head of his engorged penis. His gaze darkens. “Take it out,” he commands. I lower his boxer briefs, and his erection springs toward me.

“Oh,” I say softly, my throat instantly dry. He’s larger than I thought, and growing. Licking my lips, I stare into his eyes as my hand closes around him. With a twist of my wrist, I run my hand up and down his thick length. He grits his teeth and lets out a whimper as I stroke. His body is racked with tiny quivers.

“That’s good,” he whispers, pushing farther into my hand. I double fist him this time and squeeze as I stroke. A low groan comes from deep in his throat. He’s going to fuck me like a beast. I can feel it.

“Look at me,” he says. He backs off me, and I protest when he stands, but I’m silent when he steps out of his jeans and boxer briefs. He is unabashed in his nudity, and why shouldn’t he be? His long legs are corded with muscle. His stomach has the lean definition of a six-pack, and the impressive erection jerking in my direction is hard and insisting. He runs a hand over its long, rigid length, and any remnant of bashfulness I feel is replaced by a warm, liquid ache.

“You’re kinda gorgeous,” I say. He looks like power and strength—above the waist and below. One corner of his mouth turns up in a cute grin. Kneeling down, he digs a condom from his discarded jeans and places it on the bed.

“For us,” he whispers. He covers me again, lying over my body and between my legs. He sucks at my throat, then nips his way lower to tease my breasts and belly button. He nudges my legs farther apart and leans back on his heels, giving me an intense look. “Do you know how beautiful you are down here?”

Evan pulls one of my thighs over his shoulder, and his lips cover me again. I come apart, bucking and grinding against him.

“Evan, I need you,” I say, clawing at his shoulders.

“Come, baby. I want you to come in my mouth.”

And at those words, I do. Shock after shock of sexual electricity pulses through me, and I lose all my breath as the sounds of my orgasm bubble and burst from my throat. Gasping for air, I struggle for words.

“Evan—”

He cuts me off with a kiss. We look into each other’s eyes. No more talking.

Evan grabs the condom from the bed, rolls it on, and positions himself over me. I arch in invitation, and his tongue parts my lips and sweeps against mine just as he eases himself inside me. I moan, feeling the thick, hot, and heavy length of him. With a groan, he pauses, letting me get used to him, before he withdraws and thrusts again. And again.

“More,” I beg. In answer, he presses down on me, opening my sex and deepening his stroke.

I grip his butt and pull him into me, holding him in place so I can move with him. Groaning, he rises onto his forearms, pistoning his lower body against me, dragging his kiss from my nipples to my mouth and back again.

My muscles tighten and squeeze around him, and I feel him tremble and hiss as he arches in pleasure. He feels so good, curling his arms around me, moving in that fluid way that I like. Each hard stroke has my release driving closer, but I’m not done with him. I press my naked breasts to his chest and whisper into his ear, “I want on top.”

Evan pauses, blinking at me, trying to catch his breath. I give him a wicked smile and lick a warm path up his neck, loving his sweet, salty taste. His brows rise, a decision made. Effortlessly, he locks us together, lifts me against him, and rolls us around.

Evan positions himself half lounging on the pillows while my hands are on his shoulders and my knees dig into the bed. With Evan’s hands free to roam, my skin has become one big pleasure center. Evan’s palms glide around my waist and round over the soft curves of my ass. A powerful feeling washes over me when I rock in my new seat, testing my position. His eyes glaze as I surge up and then down on his rigid cock. He squeezes his eyes shut as I take him deeper.

I roll my hips, working forward and back, my breasts bouncing for his pleasure. I whimper when he snags a tight nipple and sucks it into his mouth, urging me on.

“Oh…that’s so good,” I purr.

His hands jam into my hair, and I meet his hot stare. “Look at you.” His voice is heady and deep. “You feel incredible.”

My heart hammers, and I can feel the tremors again. I’m close, so close. Evan cups my bottom, guiding me into his upward thrusts, my sensitive clit rubbing against his pelvis. Small sounds are tumbling from my throat. He kisses me, slipping his tongue fully into my mouth. I yelp as a bolt of pleasure shoots up my spine.

“That’s it, baby,” he bites out through clenched teeth. “Come for me again.”

I grab the headboard and whip my hips in his lap. Guttural sounds come from the back of his throat. He grits his teeth and tightens his arms around me.

“Lex, baby, I’m…” His voice is like gravel, but he sounds almost apologetic. I meet his gaze and grind down on him as he thrusts upward again, harder, and again as my body begins to tremble and clench around him. I’m speechless as the wave comes too soon. I cry out in soft yelps, milking him, mindlessly grinding against him. Evan hugs me and lets himself go, arching into my body with a loud grunt as he pumps into me over and over. Boneless, I sag on top of him as we both fight to catch our breath.

* * * *

I wake in Evan’s arms, my back tucked into his chest, his even breathing next to my ear. We are warm and naked. Fuzzy red numbers say 7:00 a.m. on the alarm clock. Oh my God, I’m tired, really tired, but staying up all night having sex was worth it. I just need some coffee, then I’ll be good to go for my meeting with Viper today… Oh fuck…
OH FUCK!

Holding my breath, I slide out from under Evan’s heavy arm, careful not to wake him. The stubble on his jaw is a little thicker, and as much as I wanted to rub my lips over it, I have to focus. Phone in hand, I grab my robe from the floor and tiptoe into the bathroom.

I dial Randy and sigh when I hear his voice mail. “Randy!” I say in a loud whisper “It’s Lex. Cancel the story about Evan and Josie as soon as you can. I’d do it myself, but I can’t right now. Just do it when you get this and text me!” I text him the same thing I said on the phone and pray that he gets the message. Shit! How could I forget that? Evan showed up, that’s how. Maybe I can take it down without waking him.

Sneaking out of the bathroom, I tiptoe to my hibernating laptop and tap the keys. The screen flickers. Evan’s face is peaceful as I sign in to Fierce’ s webpage. I’m logging in when I hear the sheets shift.

“Babe, no work yet. It’s still playtime,” he says in that sexy gravel-filled voice. “Get back in here.”

“Umm…okay.” With a hard swallow, I click off the website and pray Randy gets my messages. When I return to bed, Evan’s face burrows into the open gap of my robe. He smells like warmth, sleep, and the ocean, and I let my concerns fall away as the blissful sensations overwhelm my body and my brain. There is time to fix this, I think. When he gets in the shower, I’ll make this right.

Evan’s phone on the nightstand starts buzzing, but he waves it away and kisses his way down my stomach. Seconds later, it goes off again, but his mouth is busy trailing my inner thighs. The third time it goes off, he comes up with a concerned look and reaches for the nightstand. His lips tighten when he sees who it is.

“Josie? Jos, calm down. What?” I can hear her small, hysterical voice coming from the receiver. “Yeah. I said yes, Josie,” he says in a direct voice. “Good-bye.”

“Is everything okay?” I ask. Rolling away from me, he scrolls though his phone and pulls up what he’s been looking for. From beside him, I see my story about Evan and Josie pop up on the screen. My stomach drops out.

“No, Lex. It’s not,” he says with angry eyes and holds up the picture I took at the club. “You fucking lied to me.”

“I didn’t mean to… I mean… I can explain.” I’m stuttering, and my voice is rising as he jumps out of bed naked and starts thrusting his legs in his jeans.

“You told me you weren’t looking for a story!”

“I squashed the story. I promise I did. But last night I thought you played me, and I got angry. I’m sorry. I can take this down right now. That’s what I was trying to do this morning… Wait, don’t leave yet.”

He is already dressed and at the door, his shirt unbuttoned and flailing with his jerky movements. “I told you what would happen, Lex. Do you have any idea what this could do to Paint the Town? Kids organizations and porn don’t usually mix.”

I blanch. I didn’t even think about that. Oh my God, what have I done? “Evan, I’m sorry. I can fix this.”

“It’s too late. Everyone on the East Coast has already seen it, I’m sure.” He opens the door to leave, then turns back. “I trusted you, Lex. I told you everything. And you lied to me. I was right the first time; you are a gossipmonger.”

I cringe when the door slams and stare into the darkness of our broken love nest. The alarm clock glows on the bedside table, but I refuse to start this day. I want to sit with the drapes closed forever. I can only hope to shrivel up and die in this bed. Evan’s right; I’ve become a gossipmonger, and I’m already ruining the lives of others. Not to mention my own. By the look in his eyes when he called me a liar, there is no way Evan will ever look at me again. And I’ll never forgive myself if those kids get hurt by my story. My eyes well up with tears.

The silence of the room is broken by my buzzing phone. I jump for it in the impossible chance that it is Evan.

It’s Lou.

“Hi,” I say, thinking I’d rather speak to Hitler.

“Your page views are off the charts.” His voice is disgustingly cheerful. “I still think you should have gone with the football player, but this is good. Nice work. Get yourself in here so we can precelebrate. Viper is sending the contract over, and we have a two p.m. conference call. Lex, Mr. Khan is
very
happy.”

Well, I’m glad someone is.

Chapter Thirteen

I imagine Mr. Khan’s waxy smile as he praises me for a job well done through the speakerphone. Lou and I are in the fishbowl again on a conference call. This time we are joined by our legal team. I fiddle with the contract as Lou and Mr. Khan talk about the bullet points in each fucking section of the ten-page document. We are on page two. It’s mind-numbing, especially since I can’t get Evan calling me a liar out of my head.

Evan won’t take my calls and hasn’t answered a text. Since I am resigned to write a story about Josie, I guess I knew this could happen, but it wasn’t supposed to feel this bad. Fucking gossip!
I don’t want to do this…

“Mr. Khan,” I say, interrupting Lou waxing poetic about the advertising budget. “I’m really glad you liked the piece, but I have an idea to increase our human-interest stories. I’ve come across an organization that gets kids off the streets by allowing them to participate in free after-school art programs, either as teachers or students. I’d like to write about these kids. We can find different urban programs in other cities and feature them all once a month. We could—”

“Lex, let’s leave the human-interest stories for the mommy blogs. You doubled your page clicks in one day. I think the numbers prove where your audience really wants to go,” says Khan.

A protest bubbles in my mouth, but Lou glares at me, as does the legal team. I push the contract away from me and lean back in the chair.

Yeah, the gossip piece got a lot of clicks, but barely anyone left a comment. It’s like they came, they saw, they left. My readers usually comment, which tells me they left the site with a shrug. When Randy posted an article about the stereotypes assigned to being black and gay, it got 500 comments. The article meant something to them.

As Lou drones on, I glance at the clock. Quarter to three. School will be getting out soon, which means after-school programs will be starting. I dig in my bag and find Tone’s business card.

* * * *

An hour later, I’m sitting in on one of Tone’s art classes. The small room is as run-down as the school but comfortably fits the thirty or so teenagers of all sizes and colors that are filing in. Jeans, sneakers, and hoodies seem to be the public school uniform for both boys and girls.

From a tiny plastic chair I’ve taken in the back corner, I watch them toss their brick-filled book bags to the side and gather their easels and canvases from a storage bin against the wall. They greet one another with fist pounds, sharp nods, hugs, and a few choice swear words. It’s a little like the movie
Dangerous Minds
, except it’s an art class.

I’m glad Tone let me sit in. I told Lou I had an emergency and had to leave, which was fine since the contract won’t be fine-tuned until tomorrow. My chest constricts, thinking that in less than twenty-four hours I’ll be signing my site over to Viper.

Thoughts of Evan intrude, and I attempt to push them away. Ultimately they fill my entire consciousness with a movie reel of what he looked like this morning in my bed, my fingers twisting in his hair, and his sleepy, lopsided smile that turned into a hard line as he walked out the door. With a heavy sigh I realize how much I like him, want him even, regardless that there is little hope for a real relationship between us. Hurting him was not on my agenda. I just need him to know.

The way he looked at me with disgust gets me the most. And he walked out on me without looking back. I’ll probably never see him again, and my chest aches with the thought of it. Grasping my phone, I scroll my thumb over his name, wanting to execute the thousandth unanswered phone call I’ve dialed today.
Don’t be a fool.

I close my eyes and take a deep, calming breath. When I open them, a few of the kids are staring at me as if I’m an intruder. I smile, but they turn right back to their works. I’m wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and a white blazer—they must think I’m a teacher and instantly hate me. Tone greets the class and gets a resounding holla back. He’s not much older than them, but they respect him.