Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
I smack my lips, my face twisting in disgust. “I put it in my fucking mouth. Your cock was just in my ass, and I put it in my mouth.”
Everett sighs, a peaceful, delighted sound. “I know that’s meant to be gross, but fuck if I don’t want to get hard again.”
He’s ridiculous, and my dick is still hard. This is not how tonight was supposed to go.
“How am I supposed to finish now?” I mutter, irritation clear in my tone.
Everett winces. “I can suck you off if you want.”
“But I wanted to feel it from inside.” I’m nearly pouting as I complain, and I know we have forever to fuck, but I wanted it now.
“I’m sorry, pup. I really am.” He looks so guilty staring down at me with those honey eyes that I can’t even yell at him.
“It’s alright. I’m happy you enjoyed yourself.”
Silence stretches between us for a moment, and as we peer at each other in the dimly lit room, I can see it the moment inspiration suddenly hits him straight in the face.
“Come here,” he prompts, sitting against the wall by the pillows we sleep on, patting his lap. “Face me.”
I straddle him, prepared for him to jerk me off or let me grind against his stomach. At this point, I’ll take anything. I’ll go to the bathroom and jerk it by myself if I have to.
“Wrap your arms around my shoulders and lean on me,” Everett instructs.
The moment I’m tilted forward, my face buried in the crook of his neck, I feel his hands cup my ass. He massages the muscles, mouthing at my shoulder as he squeezes his hands repeatedly.
“What are you—shit!”
Everett shoves two fingers into my hole, cutting off my words as he goes to town immediately. I’m already stretched, so there is no burn accompanying this pleasure as he slams into my prostate with the pads of his fingers; there is nothing to counteract this onslaught of feeling.
“There you go,” he whispers against my skin. “Deep inside, just like you want.”
“Oh, oh,” I grunt out, tasting the sweat on his skin as my lips part and my legs spread even more. My hips are shaking, and it’s not until my thighs burn that I realize I’m moving.
Everett notices at the same moment, saying, “You’re fucking bouncing on it, Sky. You want it that badly? You gonna come for me?”
“Yes. Oh, god, yes,” I groan, dropping down onto his fingers at just the right angle, over and over again.
I don’t even think he’s moving anymore; I’m simply riding his fingers like a slut in heat. And it feels so good.
The hand that’s not currently under my ass glides up my back, clamping down over my shoulder, feeling the way I tense and move on top of him.
It’s building—and fast. There is no faltering movement or accidental misses; my pleasure is mine to control in this moment, and I’m fucking taking this orgasm from him.
“So close,” I pant out, my hips rocking forward as I shift from bouncing to grinding. “I’m… I’m so close, Evie.”
Everett grunts. “Use me, little viper. Show me just how greedy you are.”
My lips draw back as I sink my teeth into his skin. I can no longer see as my eyes roll to the back of my skull, my orgasming rocketing through me at the sound of his pained cry.
I’m coating Everett’s chest and stomach, riding out the waves of my climax on his fingers desperately. I do not retract my teeth, but dig in harder, desperate to taste as much of him as possible—to release this tension within me.
And it feels like forever, this pleasure. It goes on and on, my dick twitching long after it’s spent, and I keep rocking.
“Shit,” Everett stammers. “Want more? Take what you need.”
There is no new building pleasure. It feels as if I’m riding a singular wave that never crests; I’m drooling on his shoulder and going and going, unwilling to give it up.
I want to feel like this forever. I want him inside of me, giving me whatever he has, for the rest of our lives. I will take from him until there is nothing left and keep it buried within me.
“Your dick is soft, baby,” Everett eventually whispers, his hand dropping from my shoulder to land on my hip. “You still feeling good?”
I can’t respond. There is too much happening beneath my skin; my eyes are leaking, and my teeth ache from where they’re dug into his trap.
I continue to shake, to strain, to feel it. I’m unsure if it’s pleasure or pain at this point.
“Skylar,” Everett says sternly, the hand on my hip stopping my movement, holding me still. “Talk to me.”
As I pull my teeth from his skin, I intend to tell him that I’m fine. That I just love him so much, and I’m desperate to live this moment forever. But instead, I sob.
I sob hard and loud, crumbling against his body as his fingers leave me. My hands grip and pull at his sides, my spit and tears leaking down his chest.
“It’s okay,” he placates, rubbing my back with one hand and holding the nape of my neck with the other. “You’ve been through a lot since yesterday. You’ve been more vulnerable than you have been in years. It’s okay to cry now.”
… I think he’s right. I think some part of me is cracking open under the safety of his touch, finally releasing all of the pent-up emotion I’ve been shoving down.
Everything has turned out perfectly—almost as if we’re living in a film and not real life. But I’m still exhausted and emotionally overstimulated. I need this outlet.
And Everett gives it to me. In the same way I rode his fingers, I cry and cry without pause. He does not demean me or belittle me; instead, he assures me that I’m safe and that he loves me. He promises me a long future.
As I eventually drift off to sleep, still covered in our come and shedding the occasional tear, Everett presses his lips to my ear and whispers, “It’s you and me forever, pup. You and me.”