Spreading My Legs Wide Open

22: Jealousy fuelling every slam

~ Evie ~

I pull up to the house in the sleek black SUV Marcus sent, my bag slung over my shoulder, feeling like I've just escaped some weird rich-people prison. All I want is a shower to wash off the weekend's frustration. My p***y's still aching from the lack of real action - Marcus's tongue was okay, but God, I need something thick and hard pounding me senseless. As the driver pops the trunk, I notice it's crammed full. What the hell? Boxes, bags, all wrapped fancy like it's Christmas in July.

"Miss Evie," the driver says, all polite and stiff, "Mr. Poole insisted on sending these along. Gifts for you and your family."

I stare at it. Holy crap, it's a ton. Like Marcus raided an entire boutique and shoved it in here. Dresses spilling out of one bag - silk, lace, all colors. Shoes in another, jewelry boxes glinting. And not just for me; there are wrapped packages labeled for Dad, Claire, even Jack. The driver starts unloading, piling them by the front door like we're moving in. I grab a couple bags myself, lugging them inside, my arms full.

Dad's in the living room, feet up, watching some game. He jumps up when he sees me. "Evie! You're back! How was it? And what's all this?"

Claire comes rushing in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. "Honey! Oh my God, look at all this stuff. Marcus sent gifts? That's so sweet!"

I dump the bags on the couch, already annoyed. "Yeah, apparently he thinks buying half a*****e makes up for... everything." I mutter that last part, but Claire's already tearing into one labeled for her - a fancy scarf or something. She gasps. "This is cashmere! Real cashmere! Evie, he's spoiling us rotten."

Dad opens his - a watch, shiny and expensive. "Whoa, this thing probably costs more than my truck. Marcus is a class act, kiddo. Real man, treating the family like this."

I roll my eyes, digging through my pile. Dresses, yeah - dozens. Like he emptied out a whole rack just for me. One's this red number that hugs every curve; another's black lace, sexy as hell. Jewelry too - earrings, necklaces, all diamonds or whatever. And lingerie at the bottom, skimpy and silk. I snort, holding up a pair of panties that are basically string. "Great, because nothing says 'I'm sorry my d**k doesn't work' like crotchless undies."

Claire shoots me a look. "Evie! Language. And what do you mean? The weekend was good, right? You two hit it off?"

I force a smile, not ready to spill yet. "Oh, yeah. Hit it off. Sure." But inside, I'm seething. Marcus is loaded, yeah, but no amount of gifts fixes his limp problem. I can't stay with a guy who comes before he even gets in. I'd go crazy, rubbing myself raw every night while he snores. No thanks. Give me a man who can f**k me into next week.

Jack walks in then, hair messy like he just woke up, eyes locking on mine. He sees the gifts, his jaw tightens. "What's all this crap?"

Claire beams at him. "Gifts from Marcus! Look, he got you something too." She hands him a box. Jack rips it open - a leather wallet, monogrammed. He tosses it on the table like it's trash. "Yeah, real thoughtful. Bet he had his assistant pick it."

Dad chuckles. "Come on, son. Marcus is stepping up. That's how a real man treats his girl's family. Evie's lucky - stable, rich, the whole package."

I almost laugh out loud. The whole package? If only they knew the package is defective. Can't even unwrap it without it exploding early. But I bite my tongue, watching Jack fume. He's jealous, and it's kinda hot - his eyes dark. I know he's thinking about me with Marcus.

Claire hugs me. "See? He's perfect for you, sweetie. We can tell from the gifts - he's thoughtful, generous. The real deal."

"Yeah," I say, faking enthusiasm. "Real deal." But no. I'm not staying with a guy who can't f**k. Life's too short for bad s*x. Or no s*x. Marcus can keep his money and his tongue tricks; I need d**k. Deep, hard, marathon d**k. Like Jack's.

The day drags after that. We unpack the gifts, everyone oohing and aahing. I try on a dress for Claire - fits perfect, makes my t**s look amazing. She claps. "You'll wear that for your next date with him!" I smile, but my mind's on midnight. Jack catches my eye across the room, nods subtle toward the basement. Yeah, we're on the same page.

Night comes slow. Dinner's all talk about Marcus - Dad going on about how he's the son-in-law he always wanted, Claire planning outfits for future visits. Jack's quiet, stabbing his food like it's Marcus's face. I kick him under the table, whisper when no one's looking, "Basement. Midnight. Bring your A-game."

He smirks, first real smile all day. "You got it."

Parents head to bed early, all tired from the excitement. I slip into my room, strip down to nothing, wait. Three days away, no real f**k. Marcus's mouth was fine, but it's not the same. I need Jack inside me, owning me.

Midnight hits. I creep downstairs, naked. I push in - Jack's there, on the old couch, boxers tented already. He sees me, stands up fast. "Evie. f**k, I missed you."

I crash into him, kissing hard, tongues messy. "Missed you too. Now f**k me. Like you mean it. Cover all the f***s I missed these three days."

He groans, yanks his boxers down. His c**k - thick, hard. Perfect. I drop to my knees, suck him deep right away. Sloppy, wet, my spit dripping. He grabs my hair. "s**t, Evie. Suck it like that. Yeah."

I bob fast, tasting him - salty pre-c*m. Better than any rich boy's tongue. He pulls me up after a minute, flips me onto the couch, ass up. "Spread wide. I want in deep."

I do, legs apart. He slams in - no teasing. I gasp loud. "Oh God, yes. Harder." He's pounding already. Each thrust hits deep, filling me perfect. "Feel that? That's what you need. Not some rich prick's gifts."

I moan, pushing back. "f**k yes. Marcus couldn't even... oh s**t, right there." ...picturing Marcus here, coming in his pants while Jack rails me. I snort mid-thrust. "Imagine if Marcus saw this. He'd probably blow his load just watching."

Jack laughs, breathless, but doesn't slow. "Poor guy. Bet he couldn't handle your tight p***y anyway." It lightens the mood, but his jealousy fueling every slam. "You're mine, Evie."

He pulls out, flips me onto my back, legs over his shoulders. Slams back in - deeper now. I claw his back. "f**k me marathon, Jack. Don't stop till I'm wrecked."

He does. We go at it - position after position. Me riding him on the floor, grinding hard, his hands on my t**s, pinching n*****s. "Bounce on it, yeah. Take it all." I come first - shaking, gushing around him. He flips me doggy again, pounds through it. "Good girl. Now my turn." He unloads deep, hot c*m filling me. But we're not done.

We keep going - against the wall, me wrapped around him, legs hooked. He's thrusting up, strong. "Missed this p***y. So wet for me." I bite his shoulder. "Harder. Make up for the days." Another round on the stairs - risky, but f**k it. Me on top, riding slow then fast. He comes in my mouth this time - I swallow greedy. "Tastes so good."

Hours pass. We're sweaty, messy, laughing between moans. We're addicts, covering lost time.

By dawn, I'm satisfied. He holds me on the floor. "Don't go back to him, Evie. Stay with me."

I nod, kissing him. "I won't. Can't. He can't f**k like you." But what about the million dollars in my account? The gifts? families? They'll push.