Chapter Eighteen #4
He says it simply, as if it doesn’t blow my entire reality apart.
I have one second to catch my breath before he leans down and destroys me, too, the kiss landing on my open mouth with such slick, languid desire, I feel it everywhere at once.
On my neck, my breasts, a long, wet stripe between my legs, down the backs of my knees.
“I feel—I feel—” I pant between the movements of the symphony he’s creating with our mouths, the fluttering flutelike sighs, the sweet keening of our bodies, the timpanic beating of our hearts pounding through it all. “I feel so much. Why?”
“Because you know how much I want you,” Everett explains, using the opportunity to lick down the entirety of my breast. His eyes travel back to mine, earnest and yearning.
“And because you want me, too. Don’t you?
” His tongue slowly slides around the circumference of my nipple, his eyes never leaving mine.
I moan out something vaguely affirmative, and he grins before enveloping the entire bud into his mouth.
“So bad,” he utters into my flesh, mouth full of me.
He rests his weight all on one forearm as his head bobs over my breast, the other hand snaking down my abdomen, finding the waistband of my pants, then slipping inside.
My muscles clench like coiled springs, giddy with tension.
“Mm,” he growls around the nipple in his mouth as his long middle finger slips easily along my wet flesh, stopping only when he finds the hard, tender knot of my clitoris.
The smallest touch makes me cry out again.
The stubbly skin of his chin prickles maddeningly against my breast, setting off a chain reaction of chills over my body as he adjusts so he can watch me, his eyes glazed with heat, while he lightly strums my flesh. “Do you like that, Maisie?”
I writhe beneath him, burying my fingers in his hair, pulling and panting as he increases his tempo, feeling utterly lost in the sensations flooding my body. “What? Um, ye-yes.”
“I get to ask questions, too,” he says greedily. “Now, tell me, how do you feel?”
“Delirious.” It’s more breath than word, but he understands. “Like I’m going to cave in and blow apart at the same time.” He slips his middle finger inside me with a groan. I squeeze around him involuntarily, clenching tight, and his thumb bears down hard on my clit in response.
“Come for me, Maisie,” he says. Calm, tender, and yet so authoritative, the orgasm’s spilling out of me in waves of pleasure crashing through each of my limbs, my clit at its epicenter, thrumming beneath his firm grip.
I lie there, chest heaving as I stare up at Everett, my benefactor, this new caretaker of my body, feeling a heady rush of yearning I can’t begin to decipher.
“Does sex always begin this way?” I ask, feeling safety in questions.
“No.” Everett’s mouth twists into a wry smile.
“But sex with me always does.” He straightens before me onto his knees, stepping between my legs with an easy possessiveness that hardens my nipples, prickling my flesh.
He grasps me by the tender spots behind my knees, sending another aftershock through my system, bending them upward so that he can slowly ease my pants all the way off.
“Sex with me will always begin with me worshipping you the way you deserve, Maisie—with you coming on my hand or my tongue or my cock—and it will end with you screaming my name, mine, Maisie.” He groans as the rest of my clothes finally come off, his eyes fixated on the shining display between my spread legs. “Goddamn, Maisie. Fuck.”
He rips off his shirt, and I hiss beneath my breath because Everett is beautiful.
The architecture of his broad shoulders, the honeyed glow of light licking across his chest, the hard lines of his jaw softened by those easy, dimpled smiles.
The frames of his thick tortoiseshell glasses have slid down his strong nose, the arch of his perfect brown brows and the stare of those unrelenting hazel eyes visible above the frames as he unbuttons his rugged, camel-colored pants between my legs, the absolute sluttiest sex god of a professor there ever was.
“Are you ready, Maisie? Can I push into your tight little cunt now?” He pulls his cock out from the dark cotton of his underwear, and it lies thick and overflowing in his grip.
The sight of its supple, silky skin stretched by the strain of his desire triggers a sense memory I feel in my mouth.
I groan as the wanting aches viciously between my legs, arching through my groin.
“Yes,” I breathe out, “please.”
He falls to his palms on either side of my shoulders, kicking off his pants until we’re both fully naked, a confluence of warm, panting bodies desperate for each other.
His glasses slide farther down until he hurriedly flings them to the side, and then his face, open and free, hovers over mine.
He looks younger without his glasses, more boyish, and something twists in my heart at the idea that while I was out in the countryside, learning how to grow vegetables in the silence of my every day, Everett was somewhere out there, too, watching too much TV, probably, and giving those easy smiles to someone else.
I’m jealous suddenly of all that time others got with Everett, when all I’ve had is this week.
It’s not enough.
I pull him by his neck until his lush lips meet my own, trapping him in my embrace.
It’s never going to be enough.
I wrap one leg around his hips, bringing him down, urging him into me, closer, until every inch of our bodies presses together. I’ve been lonely for so long, my whole life, but here is Everett, our chests rising and falling in tandem, as close as two people can get.
Almost.
“Now,” I breathe. Everett’s palm slides down my cheek, across my breast, along the curve of my hip until it wraps around his cock once more.
He drags it down the wet seam of my body, leaving a trail of aching pleasure everywhere the firm, unrelenting pressure of his hard cock touches.
His knees widen, pressing my thighs open farther, spreading me apart to take every last bit of him in.
“Maisie,” he utters, like a prayer, like a promise, and then he pushes deep inside.