41. Chapter 41
Milo
There’s no reason to be concerned. Mazes are designed to separate people, and Evie is more capable than either of us. She’ll navigate herself out and be waiting at the entrance, ready to spend the next twenty minutes telling Maddie and me this is exactly why she didn’t want to come in here.
I take the left fork through a section where someone’s propped fake tombstones against hay bales.
“Boo.”
Evie lunges from the corn behind me, and I let out a squeal I’ll deny for the rest of my existence. I spin. She’s doubled over, one hand braced on her knee.
“Your face,” she wheezes.
“You’re going to pay for that.”
Her laughter fades, but she’s still grinning. “Yeah? How?”
I step closer, giving her time to retreat, but she only tips her chin higher.
My hand finds her waist and guides her into the shelter of the corn, where the string lights thin to a dim red glow.
Dry leaves rasp behind her. Fog threads between us, pale against her jeans before the wind carries it deeper into the rows. Her eyes remain on mine.
“Like this.”
I kiss her hard, without the careful pace I usually keep with her. Her mouth opens beneath mine in surprise, then she fists my jacket and kisses me back just as hard.
“Someone could see us,” she murmurs when our mouths separate. The warning has very little conviction behind it. Her lips brush mine with every word. One of her hands has already slid beneath my jacket.
“The fog is too thick.” I kiss the corner of her mouth, then the line of her jaw. “Plus, the path forks behind us.”
“We’re in a corn maze.”
“A haunted one. The atmosphere is unusually conducive to poor judgment.”
“There’s a plastic skeleton fifteen feet away.”
“He appears discreet.”
Her laugh cuts off in a gasp when my mouth finds the sensitive place beneath her ear. I know that sound now, and exactly what I did to earn it.
She arches into me. I’m hard enough that the seam of my jeans has become a form of punishment, every shift of her body tightening the pressure until pleasure and discomfort blur together.
Evie rocks her hips once, pressing her thigh against the rigid line of me, and the friction pulls a sharp breath through my teeth.
Her palm stops above my abdomen. That brief hesitation makes me want to reassure her and beg her in equal measure.
Then she backs me against a plywood divider concealed between the rows and lets her fingers move again. My abdomen tightens beneath her touch, but I make myself stay still and let her explore.
By the time her fingers reach my belt, the teasing has left her expression. She slips one finger through the loop and tugs, then looks up at me. The question is in the hesitation of her hand and nowhere else.
“You can,” I tell her.
“I don’t even know what I’m doing.”
“Touch me however you want.”
She watches me, her usual confidence thinned by the possibility of being caught. Her fingers hover at my fly, then flatten over me through the jeans with a caution that doesn’t match the things she’s done to me in private.
The bulbs strung above the path flicker over her face, catching gold around her pupils before the next red flare turns her eyes moss-dark.
Her cheeks are flushed now, freckles vivid across them.
She leans in until her mouth brushes my jaw, letting her teeth graze the tender place below it while her hips grind forward to meet my hard cock.
Evie’s eyes widen.
“That seems unnecessarily surprised.” I keep my grip relaxed at her waist, letting her decide how far this goes.
“I barely touched you.”
“You put your hand on my cock while we’re hiding in a cornfield.” I lean closer until my mouth brushes her neck. “Barely isn’t the word I’d use.”
Her palm curves more securely around me. My hips roll into the touch on reflex.
“You like that?” She does it again.
The question is almost unnecessary. “I like knowing you want to do this.”
Evie glances over her shoulder toward the bend as laughter carries through the stalks.
Her fingers find the buckle, and the faint clink of metal sounds indecently loud in the enclosed row, leaving us both motionless while indistinct voices draw closer through the corn.
Her knuckles stay tucked beneath my shirt until the footsteps finally recede.
“This is a terrible idea.”
“It is.” My thumb brushes over her knuckles. “Keep going.”
She opens the buckle more carefully this time. The button slips free beneath her thumb, followed by the slow rasp of the zipper in the dark.
“Still okay?” Evie pauses with her hand inside my waistband.
“Very.”
That earns the curve of her mouth I’ve learned to fear. Her fingers slip beneath my boxers and close around me.
Pleasure strikes so abruptly that my forehead drops to hers.
The direct contact pulls a low, helpless groan from my throat.
She uses her body weight to pin me more firmly against the divider at my back.
I close my hand around hers before she can retreat, not taking control so much as showing her what I need.
“There you go,” I murmur, fingers guiding her. “A little firmer.”
“Like that?”
“Exactly like that.” I loosen my hold, leaving her free to pull away, but she repeats the stroke on her own, following the shape of me.
She traces one fingertip up the thick vein on the underside, base to head, so slowly I have to lock my knees to keep from chasing her hand.
“Evie.” Her name leaves me on a sound too close to a whimper. The satisfaction on her face makes the embarrassment irrelevant.
“Is this okay?”
I look down at her hand on me, then back at her. “I’m trying very hard not to beg.”
Her lips part, and the hand encircling my cock loosens just enough for her other palm to slide underneath and cup my balls.
She gathers them carefully, their full weight settling into her soft hand while her fingers curve around the sensitive underside, thumb resting beside the root of my shaft.
A heavy ache drags low through me, and I brace harder against the divider when my knees soften.
My mortal form starts to slip. Heat needles beneath my scalp with the first warning of horns, while my fingertips burn as my claws threaten to return. I force the form steady again with what remains of my concentration.
Evie kisses me without hesitation, all trace of uncertainty gone.
Her tongue glides over mine as her fingers tighten fractionally beneath me, pulling a broken sound from my throat.
When her teeth catch my lower lip, my hips jerk forward on reflex.
I grab her hip to steady myself while both her hands conspire against me.
“Tell me what you need.”
“You doing whatever you want to me.” My glasses have slipped low enough to blur her slightly, but I refuse to take my hand off her long enough to fix them. “Just please don’t stop.”
She studies me, then draws her hand away.
A protest is halfway out of me before I understand what she’s doing.
Evie dips down, lips parting. A glistening strand of spit slips from her tongue and lands across the swollen head of my cock.
The warmth trails over the crown and follows the vein underneath.
Her face turns scarlet when she registers what she’s done. “I don’t know why I just—Sorry. That was—”
“You’ve got nothing to apologize for.” I cradle her jaw. “That was perfect. You’re perfect. I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you right now, so please, keep going.”
The embarrassment eases. Her palm closes over the slick head, spreading the moisture until the friction disappears beneath a hot, seamless glide. She strokes me again, surer this time, and I nearly lose whatever remains of my composure.
Evie stops stroking, her fist closed tight around me. Then I understand what she wants: she’s leaving the work to me. I thrust into the slick clutch of her grip, setting a desperate rhythm, and there’s no dignity left in me to protect.
“Please,” I rasp, not caring how ruined I sound. “You feel so good.”
Her free hand curves over my ass and pulls me harder into her palm.
My careful, guarded Evie, who color-codes her pantry, has one hand on my ass and the other wrapped around my cock in the middle of a cornfield.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to discovering what she keeps folded up beneath all that control. I hope I get the chance to try.
“If you keep going, I’m not going to last.”
Her eyes lift to mine. “Then don’t.”
My abdomen seizes, breath breaking against her lips as the first pulse spills hot across her fingers.
Evie keeps her grip firm through the next, anchoring me while my hips jerk helplessly and her name comes apart on my tongue.
The orgasm rolls through me longer than it has any right to, each aftershock wringing another broken sound out of me until I’m slumped over her.
She slows only when the intensity becomes almost unbearable, her hand easing along me as the last aftershocks pass. Evie glances at the pearly streaks across her fingers, then lifts that hand and draws a fingertip between her lips.
Her tongue curls over the pad of her finger to gather every trace of me while she watches me. Even wrung out and useless, my cock twitches against her palm. The flicker of triumph that crosses her face tells me she felt it too.
Anything I might say would be stupid, so I kiss her instead, tasting myself on her tongue. She meets me instantly, moaning, her clean hand knotting in my hair. I pull her tighter against me despite the tremble still working through my legs. I’m not ready to put any space between us yet.
When I ease back, her lips are damp, and the drowsy satisfaction on her face is enough to make me hard all over again.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble when I finally pull back. “I had a much more impressive plan in my head.”
“Don’t be.” She reaches down and rights my boxers with careful hands, easing me back into place before drawing the zipper up and fastening the button. When she’s done, she smooths her palm flat against my stomach.
I steal one more kiss. “We should find Maddie before she tears the entire field apart looking for us.”
“Or we let her wonder for another minute.”
“Another minute,” I agree.
I’d set fire to Hell itself before I stop kissing her.