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Authors: Evelyn Rosado

Storm: Book 2

BOOK: Storm: Book 2
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Storm: Book Two




Evelyn Rosado




The Evelyn Rosado Newsletter


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Other Titles


Chapter 1

When your mom is on life support and you’re recovering from an overdose, clarity is first thing you get. Clarity about where you stand in life and clarity about what means the most to you. Outside of my mom, it’s Chase.

The hypnotic sound of the windshield wiper flashing back and forth across my eyes is my soundtrack as I head west on a two lane highway in the middle of nowhere back to campus—which is the absolute last place I should be. But I need Chase’s touch. It’s the only way I can cope. If it wasn’t for him rushing me to the hospital after my overdose, I’d be dead.

I pull up into the parking lot of his apartment complex as a misting of California autumn rain continues to dot my windshield. He doesn’t know I’m coming home even though we traded text messages every minute since I left to see my mom. My heart is racing as I dart up the sidewalk to his door. He was on my mind so much that I forget to turn my ignition off.

Standing in front of his door, I wipe the drizzle off of my face, shivering, not from the rain, but from the excitement I get when I see him. I release a long expansive breath from my lungs before I knock three times on his door. He doesn’t answer. I knock again harder, banging my fist on the auburn-colored steel door over the clattering of raindrops—and now thunder and lightning. I look in my purse to call him but I left it in the car. I run to my car to grab it out of the cup holder. I’m now soaking wet. I call him, but I get no answer. I bang on the door again, the meaty skin of my fist hurting from the pounding.

“Who the hell—” Chase swings the door open with a frown that quickly melts to a smile when he sees me. He’s half naked, wearing nothing but a white towel, barely able to wrap it around his waist. His right, muscled thigh peeks through. I can hear the shower in his bathroom still running. We lock eyes. Those eyes. Mysterious, contemplative. The color of jade. It’s a shade of green that I get lost in. The type that reminds me of rolling around in the meadow of my grandmother’s garden.

I’m dripping wet, standing above a small puddle of rain. He’s dripping wet, too. Droplets of water river down each cavern of his ripped abdomen. A drop of water, suspended at his chin, falls down on his chest right on the crease between his pectorals. My eyes waltz over his skin. He looks godly. The mere look at him makes my stomach clench.

“Hey you,” he says, his eyes blistering, jutting up and down at me.

“Hey,” I say, my voice tender, craving for his arms to be wrapped around me.

“I didn’t—”

I cut him off mid sentence as I rush towards him, mashing my lips against his, always moist and warm. I cling to him as he wraps his arms around my back. I wish he wouldn’t let me go ever again. He shuts the door behind me and I jump up and spiral my legs around him, holding the back of his neck, devouring his lip, his tongue, kissing his chin, his cheek, absorbing the heat that I missed. He plants my back against the door, making a loud thud gripping my body tightly. I forcefully cape my legs waist, right above his towel and lock my hands behind his neck, as if he’s the only person in the world that can keep me from drifting. Drifting away in the madness of my life. I feel weightless against him.

Our lips peck against each other’s and then our kisses are harder, deeper, coiling our tongues together. I moan into his mouth. I press my lips down the curves of his neck, the scent of his skin, filling my nose. He smells like sweet cedar, it’s enchanting, forcing me to gently suck where his neck and his shoulders meet. He groans and I slide down and he rips my shirt over my head, exposing my breasts, needing, wanting to feel his taut naked skin against mine. As my hands glide over his chest, still damp, I feel his heartbeat beneath my palm and it’s racing. His towel falls off of his waist after he pulls me into him and the ruggedness of his hardened frame balances with the soft contours of my skin. His stiffness presses into me. I bite my lip as the urgent need for him to fill the hot void between my legs courses though me.

I wanted to wait to have sex with him, but I need him. I crave him. He’s the only one who gets me.

Fire shoots through me as our mouths devour each other again.

“Chase you feel so good next to me,” I say in between him gently biting the tip of my tongue and sucking my quivering lip. My eyes are closed and I hear him laugh in his throat. His left hand gropes my ass and slides up and around my thigh, while his right hand skims my breast, kneading it, swelling them. His lips travel up my jawline to the spot where my neck and my earlobe meet, causing a breathy moan to escape my dry throat.

“You smell so good baby,” he says, his voice a smoldering whisper.

He lifts me up by my waist, his fingertips hotly imprinted onto my supple skin, taking me to his bedroom and throwing me down on the bed like a rag doll. He stands at the head of the chocolate-colored bed frame gazing down at me with a look that’s angry with longing. I marvel at the specimen before me. His sculpted, honey-kissed body is ripe just for me. His cock is fully erect, staring right at me, the head glazed with pre come. He crawls on top of me and my body writhes over his soft bed sheets as his lips meshes onto mine. His hand ventures below my belt and his mouth isn’t too far behind, gently biting my nipple, flicking his tongue over it slowly, then faster, rotating above it, teasing it, and then devouring it, surrounding it with the wetness and heat of his lips and tongue. My body trembles relentlessly as he releases my belt buckle out of the loop. My body tenses.

He pauses. “Are you sure?”

“Yes…yes,” I say. My response is raw. I can taste him. It’s really about to happen.

He slips his hand under my panties and I moan loudly, gasping for air. My chin tilts up and I bury the back of my head into the pillow and he slowly massages my clit, flooding his hand with wetness. I rock back and forth under his clutches and he plunges one finger inside me reaching the bottom and then two fingers, slipping through me up and down, rotating them, making me squirm. “Brynn, you’re so fucking wet.”

I cup my breasts, kneading them as I buck my waist towards him. I grab my shorts and pull them down. He gets the hint and glides my shorts and panties down to my ankles. I kick my legs back and forth, yanking them off. He smirks at me, his eyes skimming every inch of me from head to toe. My thighs won’t stop quavering, and I don’t want them to. He reaches under his mattress and pulls out a black, matted packet. He places the latex over his head and endlessly rolls it down his length. His cock is massive. I tremble just thinking that he’s seconds from pushing inside of me. I can’t believe this is about to happen. I can’t swallow; my mouth feels like its full of cotton. My legs are aching to be spread open.

His glistening body mounts me, wrapping his arm underneath my neck. He spears through me, forcing my eyes wide open, every nerve in my body surges. His hard cock fills me up as I can’t catch my breath. I clutch his back, sweaty from the pleasure and heat between us.

“Chase!” I scream. It’s all I can say. I want to say so much, but his name is the only thing I can utter.

It feels like everything I imagined. My eyes are wide open and so are his. His green eyes stare into my soul as I arch my back and open up, letting him slide deeper into me. A bead of sweat spills off his forehead onto my right cheek. My hands run up and down his back, every muscle of his, flexed as he continues to push into me. Each thrust rocks the bed, knocking the headboard against the wall. The lamp on the nightstand rattles and the glass next to it shakes and water sloshes over the rim onto the table. His kisses match his stroke, deep and rough, his lips overwhelming my mouth like the world would shatter if he stopped. I don’t care if the world did crumble, as long as he didn’t stop.

My lips crush against his chin, jaw, neck…any and everywhere on his skin, urgent to melt into him to fill the emptiness within me. He lifts up, freeing my hands from his back and grabs my wrists and pin them over my head on the pillow. He mounts my slick body again and rests his palms on top of mine and intertwines our fingers. Our fingers fold tightly on each other’s. My pussy throbs at how demanding and aggressive he is. I clench my sweaty, quaking thighs around his lower back, coiling to him like a python. I can’t let him go. I won’t.

He groans. He burrows into me with slow, shallow strokes. I buck my hips into him and writhe under his teasing. He nibbles my earlobe and I shudder and whimper with each tiny bite. He laughs under his breath. I untangle my fingers from him. I can’t take it—the teasing is too much. I sink my nails into his lower back and ram his torso into me, striking me to my core. We moan simultaneously. The bed shrieks violently. His gaze meets mine and he pauses, seemingly taken aback by my forcefulness.

I grab his face by his neck and cheeks and scream, “Chase don’t tease me…fuck me.” With no hesitation, he spears through me like a lightning bolt splitting a tree. I palm the top of his ass with both hands bracing myself as he plows into me, each thrust more savage. He moans at the top of his lungs and my pussy is pulsing so rapidly I can’t breath, I can’t think. I get lost in the sensation. I can feel myself at the brink of my orgasm. The feeling builds slowly in my legs. I’m powerless under him, I scream, urging him to bring me to the first climax of my life. My entire body shakes, giving in to the intense thrust of his cock.

“Come for me Brynn,” he shouts, the veins in his neck straining, holding me tightly in his arms. I feel his heart thundering. Mine too. I match the rhythm of stroke and he grabs a handful of my damp hair.

“Yes! Chase!” My voice is raw and ravenous. “Fuck! I’m coming. Ohgodohgodohgod…Oh my fucking God, I’m coming!” I scream with every ounce of air in my lungs. My body jerks violently and my pussy quakes shooting currents of pleasure though every nerve of my body. He groans loudly.

“It feels so fucking good!” he yells. His body seizes and his cock stiffens and vibrates deep within me, spilling his come into the latex. He collapses on top of me and I carom his limp body into my arms.

“Hey,” I say, my voice cracking slightly.

“Hey,” he says, totally spent.

We look at each other, silent. In the distance, I hear the shower still running. “So are you ever gonna turn the shower off?” I ask. We burst into laughter. Our sweat mixes. Our breaths mix. With dry lips I peck his face as we let the blanket of bliss drift us away into light slumber.


Chapter 2

I lie hypnotized by his warmth. He swirls his finger—his knuckles still scarred from that fateful Friday—on top of my shoulder blade where a scar rests from the time that Rosemary Louis double dog dared me to leap off the swings in the fourth grade.

“Your scar is beautiful,” he says, his voice velvety. I can feel its warmth against my moist skin.

“I think you’re the first person I’ve ever heard say a scar is beautiful,” I say.

“I’ve learned to see the beauty in all things. Even the shit that people normally don’t see beauty in.”

“Like what? Are you taking a philosophy course or something?”

“Like pain or struggle.”

I pause and think about it for a second. “I don’t get it. There’s nothing beautiful about pain.”

“You don’t get to become a butterfly without being a caterpillar first.”

“That’s so corny,” I say laughing slightly.

“Just listen. There’s nothing beautiful about a caterpillar. It’s ugly, slow, nobody marvels at it like they do fireflies or ladybugs. It goes into a cocoon, away from the world, isolated and then returns as this beautiful thing that’s colorful and flies around. That struggle, that process is beautiful to me.”

“I guess I never looked at it like that. I’ve gone through stuff you wouldn’t believe and I don’t see anything beautiful about it.”

“That’s only because your story isn’t finished yet.”

My body hitches next to him when he says that. I cling closer to him and kiss his cheek. Words like those are the reason why I’m here next to him.

“Chase, I just want to say thank you for everything. Rushing me to the hospital, never leaving my bedside. You never judged me once for what happened.” When I overdosed, he was the last person I saw when I passed out and the first person I saw when I woke up. The doctors said if he hadn’t gotten me to the hospital as fast as he did, I wouldn’t have survived.

“Why would I? What happened doesn’t make you any less of a person. Things like that happen.” He brushes a damp lock of hair out of my face. “That only thing on my mind is you getting better.”

BOOK: Storm: Book 2
2.03Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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