“Drake!” she cried out, her hands fluttering in a helpless gesture as though she didn’t know what to do.
“Hold on to me, baby,” he said huskily. “Let’s go together. You and me. Come with me now.”
Her fingers dug into his shoulders, holding on frantically as he pushed himself inside her until his balls pressed against her ass. Once. Twice. On the third thrust, he was bathed in the hot surge of her sweet release and it triggered his own. He began pumping harder, filling her with his seed until it spilled from her cunt.
He thrust one last time and then locked them together, holding himself still as his cock twitched and pulsed, expelling what seemed like a gallon of semen into her pussy. She sagged, utterly spent, against Manuel’s chest, her eyelashes fluttering closed.
Transfixed by the sight, he kissed both her eyelids and then her nose and finally her mouth, resting against her as she lay sandwiched between the two of them. His chest rose and heaved, pressing her farther into Manuel, and no one spoke, unwilling to break the sensual fog that surrounded them.
“Wow,” she mumbled, her words slurring, her eyes only able to open partway. “I think y’all killed me but I can’t think of a better way to go. That was . . . amazing.”
Manuel nipped at her neck and Drake kissed her delectable mouth.
“Glad you enjoyed it, Angel, but I assure you, the honor was all ours. You gave us something very precious tonight and don’t think we don’t know it, or that we’ll forget it.”
“Never,” Manuel vowed in a somber voice. “You are a very special woman, Evangeline, and Drake is one lucky son of a bitch who better be glad he saw you and claimed you first or you’d be in my bed right now.”
Evangeline smiled crookedly, looking intoxicated, drunk on passion. She never reacted to Manuel’s statement, one that Drake knew to be absolutely sincere—Manuel wasn’t a man who said shit he didn’t mean—but instead she focused on Drake, her eyes warm and bright with love and affection. She reached out to cup his jaw, caressing his much rougher skin with baby-soft fingertips.
“Do I get a shower before we start all over again? I seem to recall a promise of having all night and by my math, we still have several hours left.”
16
Evangeline paced the living room floor in agitation. Tonight was the benefit at Carnegie Hall and, other than knowing what she was going to wear, she had no idea how to pull off hair and makeup. Drake had warned her about the media and that photographers would be everywhere, and the last thing she wanted was to embarrass Drake by looking like the gauche girl-just-off-the-farm that she was.
She picked up her cell phone and plucked up the courage to punch Silas’s contact. She nearly hung up the minute the call connected but she forced herself to put the phone to her ear and wait for him to answer.
“Evangeline?” he said on the second ring. “Everything okay?”
“Yes. No. I mean nothing’s wrong. It’s just . . .” She broke off with a sigh and sank onto the couch.
“Are you at the apartment?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said lamely.
“I’m only five minutes away. I’ll be right there.”
The call ended and the line went silent. Alrighty then. And that was the law according to Silas. He was going to think she was a flaming moron when he realized why she’d called him. She let out a groan of dismay and flopped back on the couch.
And that was where Silas found her exactly four minutes later when he strode into the apartment.
“What’s wrong?” he asked sharply, plopping down on the couch beside her.
“You’re going to think I’m an idiot,” she mumbled.
He stared expectantly at her, obviously waiting for her to expound.
She sighed again and sat up. “Tonight is the benefit Drake’s taking me to at Carnegie Hall.”
“Yeah, and?”
“I have a dress and shoes. But I need help with hair and makeup. I don’t want to embarrass Drake and make a fool out of myself,” she said, growing more distressed by the minute. “He said there would be photographers and cameras everywhere. Oh God, Silas. What am I supposed to do? I don’t belong at things like that. I should have never agreed to go.”
Silas’s lips grew thin. “Bullshit. You’ll be the most beautiful woman there. I guarantee it.”
“I don’t suppose you’re my fairy godmother and have a magic wand hidden on you somewhere,” she said glumly.
His lips twitched and then curved upward into an honest-to-goodness smile. She was so startled that all she could do was stare in utter fascination. Silas was always so serious and somber. He so rarely smiled that she was completely transfixed each time he did.
“I may not have a magic wand, but I’m not without my resources,” he said with an arrogant twist to his lips that unseated his smile. “How quickly can you be ready to go?”