Page 78 of Striking Range

Everett sits up to his full height, peering down at me with a stern expression. After watching me for a moment, he lifts a hand as if to stop my train of thought, and says,

“Are you telling me that you’re willing to put my dick up your ass after coming like that?” Before I can reply, he interjects again, adding, “Let me rephrase: you just came so hard I thought you’d pass out the very first time you’ve ever had anything in your ass, and you still want me to fuck you?”

It’s kind of comical, really, how he’s vibrating in front of me. How I can tell that as soon as I give him that green light, he’s going to pounce on me.

But the fact that he was ready to call it a night and neglect his own pleasure just because he saw how intense that orgasm was for me is doing something to my heart that it shouldn’t be.

My Evie, so sweet to me.

“I think I can handle it,” I reply.

He’s on top of me in a second, his tongue pushing its way into my mouth. Those hands of his are trailing up my sides, spreading that wetness over my body, but I can’t find it in me to care. It feels filthy, and knowing how much it’s turning him on is really getting to me.

“You looked so good, Sky,” Everett says, pulling back enough to place a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Of all the times I’ve imagined how beautiful you’d be in that position, nothing has ever come close to that.”

I shiver against him, hands tightening on the back of his shirt.

“It felt incredible. It was almost too much,” I admit. “I want to feel that with you inside of me so badly.”

“Oh, god.” Everett drops his mouth to my neck, sucking on the skin harshly, using it as an outlet for his sexual aggression.

I take the pain; I take his need and his affection. I would take anything he gave me, and I don’t feel as if this is a new revelation to me.

I jerk slightly as I feel his finger once again press to my entrance. It’s wet, and I would bet money that he’s using that clear fluid that came out of me a few minutes ago as a lubricant.

He prods at me for a moment, panting against my neck. Then, without warning and in one quick movement, Everett pushes two fingers inside, as deep as they will go.

I groan, a hand coming up to yank aggressively at his hair. His face is still tucked into my neck, so he’s easy to snatch up, to ground myself with.

Those long fingers are already pumping in and out, and just as I think I’ll start adjusting to the feeling, he scissors them open.

“Don’t!” I yelp. “Don’t do that; you’ll rip me open.” My words sound closer to a sob than a command.

Everett kisses up my neck to my cheek, shushing me.

“Shh, it’s okay. I have to open you up, Sky. I looked it up, and if I stick it in now, you’ll bleed.” He scissors his fingers again, wider this time, and I whine against him as I pull harder at his hair. “Ah, that’s right. You can hurt me. Let me feel it; show me just how much this is getting to you.”

And it is. This feels like he’s ripping me open. Not necessarily in the painful way, but the terrifying stretch of it. It feels unnatural, uncomfortable, foreign.

As Everett continues this sickening movement, I feel his thumb brush over my taint, rubbing at it softly. It sends tingles up the base of my dick, which is hardening, lengthening between us. I can feel it, and Everett feels it too as he picks his head up and looks me in the eyes.

I expect him to say something, to taunt me or spew some more incredibly obscene lines my way. But instead, he slides another finger into my hole, and I’m gasping, brows furrowing and mouth dropping open.

“Oh, fuck,” I groan, staring up at him as he hovers above.

And he never looks away. Everett is watching my every move, and the look in his eyes makes me nauseous with its affection, with its obsession. It’s so much, so intense, and I want to bottle it up and store it for later use. To keep it forever.

Everett is looking at me as if he’s in love with me. As if he owns me.

He works me open with three fingers for a minute, and once I’m completely relaxed around him, he pulls them out. I watch as he climbs off the bed, as he yanks his shirt off and drops his pants.

He’s pulling his briefs off, exposing his leaking cock to me, as a thought that should have occurred to me long ago just now surfaces.

“Everett,” I start. “Do you have a condom?”

I watch in real time as the color drains from his face, his eyes widening.

So… no.