Page 116 of First in Line

When we meet each other’s eyes, we can’t hold back a complicit grin. We exchange a small, soft kiss, far more tender than the moment we’ve just shared.

When she pulls away, she says, “Welcome home, Hot Wheels.”

“If this is how I get welcomed, I might go back on my word and abandon you for a couple of months here and there.”

When she laughs, I can feel it where we’re still joined. It pushes some of my cum out of her, making it dribble down my balls.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home,” I say. “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me on our bed.”

Despite what just happened, we’re both reluctant to let go. So instead, we kiss again. And it quickly gets out of hand once more. Well, we still have some time before Mariana comes out. We can probably start over. Especially given the fact that I haven’t gotten any softer, still firm and needy inside her.

I’m back with my wife. And I’m never letting her go ever again.

Barcelona went by in a blink. Between my contractual commitments and the race schedule, the days unfolded faster than we could process them.

Evie and I still got to enjoy the city a little more than we did in Monaco. It was easier to go unnoticed in such a densely populated area, so we allowed ourselves a few moments out of my suite.

Once more, Evangeline followed the practice sessions and the race from the Paddock Club. The competition on Sunday was fierce, but I gave everything I had and finished first. I wasn’t about to lose two races in a row. Especially not in front of my woman.

The Monday that followed, we traveled to Palma de Mallorca, a city on the largest Balearic Island off the coast of Spain, incredibly dense culturally and historically. Originally, I’d planned on asking Wesley to drop us off, since it was on their way to Ibiza, but given Evie’s experience on the yacht, I booked us a flight instead.

I’ve rented a small house for the week, with a view over the sea and private access to a strip of sandy beach. It gives us all the privacy we want, and we’ve been exploiting it to the fullest for four days now.

“Yes, I’ll be there,” I tell my agent on the phone.

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’ll let them know they can expect you tomorrow. Text me when you have an ETA.”

“Will do.”

Once we’re done with the technical arrangements, we hang up. I throw the phone on the bed and walk to the balcony that overlooks the sea and the terrace.

My eyes fall on Evie, who’s exactly where I left her two hours ago—working on her computer on one of the lounge chairs, under the shade of a patio umbrella.

I’m still not used to this, to having her here. Every morning, when I wake up finding her in my arms again, there’s a brief moment where I question whether or not I’m still dreaming. She’s here again. We found our way back to one another after being stranded for seven years. I’d given up hope, but here we are, back to our former glory, our bond growing stronger with every day spent together.

My heart feels so full that my chest aches, as if overstuffed with emotions. My Evangeline is back.

Feeling like a lovesick puppy, I head downstairs. Once outside, I walk straight to her, gorging on the sight she offers.

She’s wearing a mossy green bikini, and a cream sarong is wrapped around her hips, thin enough to be see-through. She’s so focused on her screen, she doesn’t even see me approach.

“That’s enough of this,” I say as I get to her.

When I move to take her laptop away, she hurriedly whips it away from my reach and protests with, “No, I’m almost done!”

“Come on, princess, you’ve been working all day.”

She scoffs. “I’ve barely worked. You’ve kept me very busy for most of the day.”

“Is this a complaint?” I wonder, quirking up an inquisitive eyebrow at her.

“No. But I’ll have you know today happens to be Thursday, which is a working day.”

“The fact that you’re able to keep up with the day of the week tells me I haven’t done a good enough job of distracting you.”