THE CONTROL: An Arranged Marriage Romance by Elena Monroe (ebook reader android .txt) 📕

There was no easing into Eve. 

Our bodies pressed flush together, and I couldn’t help my mouth from opening wider just to taste more of what I’ve been missing out on.

Why did she taste so good? Did all of her taste like salvation?

Pushing my hand down between our bodies, her lips stilled from nipping at mine when the tips of my fingers explored right between her legs. She was a wet mess that the pads of my fingers slipped against and my hand paused.

Pulling away enough, I muttered between us, “I don’t know how to do this, Evey.” Shaking my head, I wanted to give up right there. My experiences were limited to a different set of body parts, and I was going to embarrass myself if I continued to fumble through this.

Her fingers pressed onto my hand, making sure my fingers stayed there, when her mouth found my neck. “Every way you touch me is enough, Bowey.” Swaying her hips against my fingers, I heard the small whimper fall from her lips right onto the sensitive part of my neck, drawing my eyes to her.

Her arm wrapped around the back of my neck, keeping our foreheads touching when she pushed my three fingers inside her.

Warm and wet never felt so inviting; it had me swallowing the nerves lodged in my throat. 

I didn’t know what I was doing, but I kept watching her unravel layer by layer with each new touch.

Reaching her hand forward, I felt her fingers wrap around my girth when she slid her hand up to my tip making me shudder. She was right, it didn’t matter how we touched each other, even through fumbling, it felt like heaven.

Her out of breath voice whispered between us, “Is this right, Bowey?” The familiar pressure continued to mount as I humped her closed fist, and she rode my fingers in a needy way that looked edible on her.

Nodding, I let my lips press against hers again when she moaned into my mouth, and I felt myself come undone right there on her thighs within minutes of kissing. I would have felt embarrassed if it didn’t feel so good.

The pressure of her hand soaked through mine, keeping my fingers buried deep inside her as I watched her come for the second time. It was now my new favorite sound, touch, look, and it drove out all the parts of her I collected from other women that helped me survive without her.

“Shit,” I groaned out as my forehead found the cold tile beside Eve.

“See? Not so terrible,” she whispered as she continued laying down kisses while I got my head on straight.

Taking my fingers back, I had the uncontrollable urge to taste her when I pushed a finger past my lips and sucked her flavor right off. She tasted like caramel and absolution, making me devout.

I would worship at her altar every Sunday if she wanted.

I pulled away from her, ripping all the good feelings off like a band aid. “This can’t happen again. I am not ready to explain everything you missed when you left.”

Pretty Princess I could handle, my Evey, was another story entirely.

EVE

Still pressing my shoulders against the shower wall, I let the still pulsing orgasm linger on my sensitive parts.

Bowen’s kiss was the only one that ever mattered. I had been waiting for his full lips to touch mine in a kiss like this since I was old enough to daydream of what they would feel like—how he would taste and sound in the throes of rapture. Every part of his tender movements lived up to the moments in my head so explicitly, I could almost prepare for how more of him would feel.

Bowen was the first person I had seen naked—fully naked—not in a television show, romantic movie, or the occasional porno. I took in every patch of his matured body that I could when his mouth wasn’t latched onto mine.

Nothing about him was like when we were kids.

He had muscles etched from stone, so toned that I couldn’t help but get caught on each curve of them flexing. His shoulders were broad, his eyes more violently gray, and his jaw seemed to be sculpted in ways you only read about in fiction.

When it came to the parts of him I overlooked in innocence, I nearly melted down the drain. He was hard, smooth, and perfectly groomed with a single vein trailing from his hip down his length that complimented the thick head.

Every part of him was made for me.

He was a work of art and I was mesmerized. 

By the time I finally felt the heat turn cold—the water and the warmth running through my body, I stepped out of the shower to see Bowen already in bed with a book in his lap.

Holding the towel against my chest, I snuck out of his room without being seen, padding downstairs to snatch two containers of Chinese takeout that were still on the coffee table.

Bowen hadn’t eaten and something inside me sprang awake with the need to protect him. Crawling into Bowen’s bed next to him, I watched him look up through his eyelashes, following me up to the pillows where I nestled in the free space, crossing my legs. Opening up the containers, I found lo mein and in the other was orange chicken, both smelling like the perfect bookends to our shower.

“You didn’t eat…. Noodles or chicken first?” I offered, handing him a pair of chopsticks.

Barely pulling his eyes away from his book, he grumbled, “I don’t eat that shit. Don’t make a mess in my bed.”

He didn’t toss me out, so I was taking it as a win. 

The silence was bullying me into filling it between loud bites and