My Fiancé’s Uncle is Obsessed With Me

Eveline

The key turned with a muffled click, a sound drowned by the one that stopped Eveline cold in the foyer. It wasn’t the television as she’d thought.

It was a low, rhythmic wet sound, punctuated by a sharp guttural gasp she knew intimately. His gasp.

Her overnight bag slipped from her numb fingers, thudding softly on the hardwood. The emergency at the clinic—a patient in crisis—had kept her until three AM. She’d texted him about it. “Working late. I wish I could be there with you.”

He’d sent back a heart, and she’d almost considered bribing a colleague to cover her shift. After all, tonight was supposed to be their engagement dinner. She’d thought of the postponed dinner as the ring on her finger caught the sterile, hallway light.

Now that ring felt like a cold, metal brand.

The sound pulled her forward, like a moth to flame, even though she knew what was waiting for her. She could hear the moans now—a soft, keen sound that filled her ears.

Bile rose to her throat as she briefly glanced at the floor she’d mopped just yesterday. The door to their bedroom was ajar. Eveline saw a discarded black heel and a pale blue silk blouse, pooled like a shed skin on the floor.

Her heart hammered as she edged closer, her back pressed to the cool wall. She didn’t want to see.

She had to.

“Oh..fuck. Just like that. Just fucking like that.” His thick, guttural groans filled the air. His. Her fiancé. Shane.

His bare feet were planted on the rug she’d bought, and the taunt muscle of his calves squeezed as he thrust forward. There was a woman, on her knees between his legs, a cascade of honey-blonde hair covering her face. Her head bobbed up and down, one hand braced on his thigh and the other working the base of his shaft in a tight, twisting stroke.

Eveline’s breath hitched as her gaze went to the blouse again. She was in shock—unable to think—but something flashed through her mind. She’d seen it somewhere—at a Christmas party her fiancé had forced her to attend. Maya. His colleague from the marketing department.

She slapped a hand over her mouth, muffling a strangled sob.

A low growl rumbled from his chest. “God, Maya. Your mouth is heaven. I could come in it all day long.”

Maya’s head bobbed faster as Shane grabbed a fistful of her hair, shoving himself to the back of her throat. She gagged and choked, but didn’t push him away. A thin string of saliva glistened, connecting her lower lip to his swollen cock first before breaking.

“You’re so fucking good at this,”

Maya pulled off with an audible, wet pop. Her voice was husky and smug. "Better than your little psychology student?" She didn't wait for an answer, leaning in to swirl her tongue around the head, her eyes flicking up to watch his face.

Eveline felt a white-hot spike of fury cut through the numbness. Little psychology student. They’d been talking about her. Making fun of her. She saw Shane’s abs clench, his whole body tensing.

He was close. So very close.

"Don't stop," he begged, his voice ragged. "Please, don't stop."

Eveline had seen enough. She turned around, wiping furiously at her eyes as she stormed out of the apartment. She didn’t bother with her bag. He’d see that she’d seen them…that she caught him red-handed, cheating on her on one of the most important nights of their lives.

But she wasn’t going to wait around for apologies. She’d been the perfect girlfriend to Shane until now—making him meals even after long shifts, showing up for every event he dragged her to, even if he never respected her off-days.

She was going to even the scores…somehow.

“What can I get you, Miss?”

The bartender was a metal-head fan, with posters of bands slapped against the wall behind him. He wore a shirt that said, “METALS DON’T DIE” in dripping red and had long, dirty blond hair, brushing against his shoulders.

Dirty blond. It reminded her of honey-blonde, a color she had come to hate.

“Anything strong,” she told him. “Your strongest.”

He nodded. “I know just the right thing for you.”

A minute later, he pushed a glass towards her. “If you’re looking for something to make you forget that your boyfriend’s a dickhead, then that’s your best bet. But I should warn you—”

Eveline wasn’t listening. She grabbed the drink, tipped her head back, and swallowed. The burn was immediate. It wrapped around her throat like fire, cutting off her windpipe. Her face turned red as she struggled to breathe, her chest heaving heavily.

“…you’ve got to take it slow.” The bartender finished quietly. He shook his head as he poured her a glass of water. “I don’t know the demons you’re running from, darling, but you don’t want to die in a shoddy place like this.”

Eveline accepted the water gratefully, although it did nothing to calm the hell-pit inside her. “Maybe something softer?” she asked.

“Yeah. That’s a good idea.”

It wasn’t.

She didn’t think the one glass was enough to get her tipsy, but by the second, Eveline could feel the floor slightly tipping from underneath the stool she perched on. Her head was light, and her tongue felt loose.

Was this why Shane drank all the time? She’d never gotten drunk before. What if the clinic needed her? Who would be Shane’s designated driver?

“No,” she told herself firmly, waving a hand in front of her face. She wasn’t here to think about her cheating scum of a fiancé. She was here to even the score.

“Scotch.”

She turned as her nose caught a whiff of something rich and dark, musk and vanilla filling the air. Eveline inhaled without meaning to as she stared at the man standing next to her. He was tall—impossibly so, compared to her smaller frame. He wore a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and she could see the ink on his arm, marking the snaky vein lines that ran down to his wrist.

Oh, the nurses at the clinic would absolutely love him.

“How would you like it?” the bartender asked.

“Neat.”

His voice. She couldn’t tell if it was because she was drunk, but it was the sexiest thing she’d ever heard. It was low enough to slide through the haze in her brain, with a rumble that slid over her skin, like the satin lingerie she’d tried on three months ago. For a trip Shane promised he’d take her on.

Except he never got around to booking it.

Eveline’s gaze roamed higher, lingering on his face. She could only see his side profile, but his jaw looked like it was cleanly chiseled from some expensive sculpting material, and his nose…phew.

She drew her bottom lip between her teeth as a warm shiver slid down her chest to her belly.

A dangerous thought popped into her head. If she was going to take revenge, then why not do it with someone who looked this good? Even if the sex turned out to be bad, at least she’d have his attractive features as a keepsake.

She cleared her throat. He glanced at her.

When she opened her mouth, it was the alcohol speaking. “Would you like to sleep with me?”