Page 76 of Striking Range

“Isn’t this supposed to feel good?” I ask. “Because right now, it’s just… weird.”

Everett tilts his head, observing me with curious, calculating eyes. His finger is pumping in and out at a slow, calm pace.

“Vicious little snake,” I hear him mutter, mostly to himself, but it makes me harder as I hear it anyway.

I love that he can’t get enough of both sides of me—the soft and the cruel.

Now, if only I could tell him about… that day. About what I did. Then there’d be no secrets between us, nothing to hide. He could know all of me, and just maybe want me all the same.

“I’ll find it,” he finally says, directly to me this time.

His finger begins to crook as he rotates his wrist this way and that. I know what he’s looking for; I’m just surprised he knows to look in the first place.

He’s massaging my walls, digging deeper into me with each pass. And that, in and of itself, feels so good that I begin to relax around him.

But nothing phenomenal is happening, and his pinched brow and narrowed eyes are starting to make me self-conscious. I feel pressure, as if it’s my fault he can’t find my fucking prostate.

If I knew where it was, I’d tell him!

“Everett, let’s just move on. I don’t need—”

I shoot up off the bed, coming to an awkward half-sitting position as his finger stays firmly lodged inside my ass. A pleasure I’ve never felt before, hot and thick and far too overwhelming, pours from where his finger is pressed and all the way to my toes.

I’m choking out a groan, hands grasping for purchase at his shoulders. “E-Evie!”

Everett moans, looking at me as if he’s the one getting a prostate massage, and rubs that singular spot. “Fuck, puppy. Is that it? Does that feel so good?”

I don’t know what to do with any of this. I don’t know what to do with this insane pleasure or the way he’s staring at me; the way he looks like he’s coming right this second when he’s not even being touched.

“Uh… ahh, I feel… Evie, fuck. I don’t know how—” I groan again, jerking as he presses exceptionally hard inside, cutting off my own words.

“Mhm,” he hums. “It’s a lot, huh?”

I simply nod, hooded eyes watching him as he watches me. I feel wrung out, and I haven’t even climaxed yet. There is every chance that I die tonight.

Everett lifts his other hand, uses it to cup my cheek, and coos as I nuzzle into it. “My poor puppy. So sensitive and pure—doesn’t know how to handle it.”

He kisses my closed eyelids, collecting tears. And his voice is sweet and soft, but his hand remains ever relentless. The pleasure is coiling higher and higher, and I think I might come at any second.

But I feel weird. Like I’m going to explode; like I’m going to die. It’s not… normal.

“Evie… please. I’m going to come, but I’m scared,” I confess, voice fragmented as I blink up at him.

And this fucking asshole—he slips another finger in and fucks me harder, faster.

“Fuck!” I fall back onto the bed, my back arcing at the fullness, the burn and the intensity of it all.

“You look so fucking good, Sky. Oh, god, I just want to eat you. You’re swallowing my fingers up so well. Fuck, you’re gonna come so hard.” He sounds delirious.

He sounds more excited for my climax than I am.

I’m shaking, fighting against the sensations to keep my body from locking up. “I’m gonna, ah fuck, I’m gonna come, Everett.”

“I know, baby. Come on my fingers—do it, come for me.”

He’s rubbing that spot over and over again, staring down at me so intensely, fingers trailing up my thighs. My dick is pulsing the way it does when I’m about to come, but something feels so weird.

“Something’s wrong. Stop it for a second, Evie. Something’s wrong,” I plead, but I’m still rolling my hips down to meet his every thrust, moaning between sentences.