Lorcan & Evette

Chapter One

"How much for a palm reading from the pretty lady?" Ass-kisser and pretty boy Adam Wilson asked his girlfriend, propelling his body halfway across her shop counter.

"That depends," Evie answered, her gaze focused on her book. "How much are you willing to pay?"

He clacked his tongue. "I've got about five minutes until I need to be out of here sweetheart. What can I get with a fiver?"

"I wouldn't worry too much," She smiled, though it wasn't in the slightest bit sweet. "The ass kicking comes free. The reading, on the other hand, says that you're a bad boyfriend and should treat your girlfriend better."

"Oh come on Evie." He smiled, as though his girlfriend wasn't mere seconds away from blowing a fuse. "Don't be like that. I'm trying to make things easier."

Make things easier. Ha! Evie was so done with this bullshit. Like, totally done.

She paused, hesitating, then snatched up the money. "I'll be taking that as compensation."

"Compensation for what?"

"The fact that I even have to tell you this astounds me."

She felt like a disappointed teacher, scolding her pupil for another week's missed homework. Alas, it wouldn't be the first time.

Apparently, Evie Wicker had never had the best of luck in the boyfriend department.

"Oh come on Evie," He sighed. "You know I'll make it up to you. I always do in the end, don't I? But the boys already booked my ticket and these things aren't cheap. I can't cancel on something like this. You know I'll make it up to you, don't you?"

She stared at him blankly.

"I will. I promise you, Evie. I'll make it up to you like only I know how." He lifted his eyebrow suggestively. "And you know how I do it." By not turning up? She was beyond done with this. "We could go to the movies- and you could put on that little red dress you've got. You know, the one you wear in the bedroom sometimes? Ay, how about it?"

Evie wanted to yawn.

That was the problem with the human male sex. They got too comfortable in a relationship and developed a god complex. Evie hated to admit it- well no, she didn't- but she'd dated better. Most of them turned out to be total dicks. But sometimes- okay, rarely- they pulled out a secret trick in the bedroom that maybe made her a little wet.

But then they didn't pull through, so...

Talk about building up the hype.

For the last thirty year, most (as in all) of her orgasms were faked.

But she'd gotten good at it.

– Oh wow Adam, you're so good.

– Oh God Adam, you're so big.

–Oh shit Adam, I think I'm too tired for round two. You made me cum so hard this time.

And if she was really trying to get the pain-staking process over with, she'd add a 'damn, I'm not sure I'll be able to walk in the morning' to finish it off.

All she had to do was nibble her bottom lip and close her eyes. Every now and then she'd make a moaning sound. Faked, they sounded more like elongated, high-pitched farts. Adam was one of the arrogant ones. He didn't take much convincing.

Eventually, she'd gotten sick of telling her boyfriends how to get better. Through the years, too many of them had shown the tendency to take it to heart.