What's your fantasy? See if it lies here in this book. **MATURE CONTENT**
**this for my melanin queens!
**this for my plus-size queens. they deserve more recognition!
**this for my queens of color!
**this for ALL my queens!
-I don'...
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Chris Evansashimself
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YouTube played quietly in the background as you tried to focus on a romance novel. Every time your attention fixated on the plot of the story, it was snatched by the app's recommended videos.
"Okay, I don't appreciate my algorithm calling me out like this. Not YouTube calling me a Chris Evans whore."
The next video started and there was your fine ass boyfriend's face. Why did he have to be so fucking adorable? That damn smile. That sexy ass smirk. The flex of his muscles under that small ass Polo. His stylist knew all the ways to make women thirst for him.
Fuck those incredible arms and their ability to make me melt. Does he have to talk with his hands so much? Now I can't stop thinking of how he used those same hands to take me apart on the way to the airport. How those skilled fingers had me flooding the passenger seat. I honestly should've turned this damn tv off after that last interview.
Your mind was replaying the part of the interview that had struck a nerve. Your day had already been off to a rocky start. Which to most people would've been odd, given that it was Chris' birthday. Here you were sprawled across your sofa brooding. The last thing you wanted to do was be away from him on his special day. Chris felt the same, but there was a press tour that needed to be done.
The two of you had carved out time for an early morning FaceTime call. The first ten minutes of the conversation were upbeat and energetic. As soon as his cute face appeared, you broke into your best version of "Happy Birthday." Chris beamed with pride as he thanked you. He spoke about how much he missed you. You voiced the same as the two of you looked at one another like sad puppies. When the time came to end the call, Chris promised he'd phone again when the opportunity presented itself.
Now here you were hours later attempting to occupy your time by reading. Only to be distracted by the person you missed most on your tv screen. You turned away from the tv and flipped the page of your book. As if it were some sick twist of fate, the interview that had soured your mood earlier started to play again. Snatching the remote from the coffee table. You mumbled something under your breath as you heard the interviewer ask the question.
