Page 77 of Striking Range

My body is still begging for more.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he assures me. “You’re just overwhelmed. It’s okay—you’re okay.” I shake my head, my hand reaching out for his. He grasps it, holding it tightly as he adds, “Let go, Sky. I’ve got you. It’s gonna feel so fucking good, I promise.”

And because I trust every single word that comes out of this man’s mouth, I do. I tip right over the edge, my eyes rolling back as I scream.

It’s clawing through my entire body, this pleasure. It’s coming in waves, and each one is stronger than the last as Everett’s fingers never cease.

“Oh, so good. That’s so good, pup. You look so beautiful, so fucking delicious. I want to fuck into you so badly—so fucking badly.”

He’s spurring me on, heightening my pleasure with his words. I can’t will my eyes to open under the weight of this orgasm, but I want to see him. I want to see what face he’s making as I fall apart.

Right as the intense pleasure starts to shift into pain, Everett pulls his fingers out, slowly and carefully, leaving me to feel empty and, quite frankly, alone. I take several deep breaths, gathering myself before I open my eyes.

Everett is staring down at me in awe. There is so much heat in his eyes, so much affection and desire that I can feel my own lust awakening again.

And it’s now that I’m realizing he’s still fully clothed. And I’m noticing because a large section of his shirt is soaked.

My brow furrows as I stare at it, my exhausted body adjusting so that I sit up on my elbows. Surely he hasn’t sweated that much in the past ten minutes? And just there, on his stomach?

“What—” My voice trails off as my hand moves on the comforter beneath me. The wet comforter. My gaze drops, finding it soaked around me, as well as my stomach and chest. The liquid is clear, but it’s most definitely not come. “What the fuck just happened to me, Evie?”

I sound terrified, and I feel terrified. Slightly mortified, too, if we’re making a list. But Everett is still staring at me like he might bend down and devour me at any second.

“You squirted,” he replies simply.

My eyebrows shoot up. “I thought that was a girl thing.”

“Apparently not just girls,” he says, and his voice is breathless. “I never even touched your dick. You came—you squirted from only stimulation to your ass.”

I groan, rubbing at my forehead. “Jesus. Okay. We don’t need to rehash the details.”

A choked laugh leaves Everett as I peek at him through my fingers. “That was the hottest thing I have ever seen in my entire life. In fact, I couldn’t even speak for a solid fifteen seconds. Me—I couldn’t speak. And I want… I want…”

He’s staring at me so hungrily that I feel my cock twitch, which is fucking nuts.

“You want what?” I ask.

He swallows. “I want to taste it.”

Before I can object, Everett bends down and licks a long strip over my stomach, collecting a decent amount of the mystery fluid.

“Everett!” I shout, but he’s groaning, drowning out my complaint.

He’s licking, again and again, and it honestly feels really fucking good.

“It tastes so good, baby,” he speaks into my skin. “It tastes just like you.”

“Fuck,” I mumble, falling back against the bed.

“Next time, I’m fucking you so that I can feel it when you do that.”

I freeze, slowly lowering my gaze to where he’s trailing his eyes over various parts of me, occasionally licking at wet spots.

“Next time?” I whisper.

Everett lifts his eyes to meet mine, grinning. “Yeah. There’ll be a next time, right?”

I swallow this new anxiety, this self-doubt, and take a shaky breath. “Are you… Are you too turned off to do it now? Is it the squirting thing?”