Page 51 of Striking Range

I make an effort to keep some of his come on my tongue as he slips from my mouth, and even as he’s still gasping out grunts and pleas, I capture his mouth with mine, pushing the remainder of it onto his tongue.

Skylar chokes for a moment, swallowing what he can and letting the rest drip down and onto his chin. I stare at him, all messy and obscene, before licking him clean once more.

“Fuck, that’s so hot, Everett,” he says, and it sounds broken, torn apart, worn out.

He has no idea how hot things can get.

Instead of pointing this out, I chuckle, feeling his chest firmly against mine now that I’ve crawled back up the length of his body. Skylar sits up, and I’m forced back, now sitting on his lap as those big eyes peer up at me.

He looks so soft beneath me; this whole scene looks so right, even as I know it’s not. I should get up—I should remember who I am. I should be brushing my teeth to try and forget how good his come tastes coating my palate.

But before I can commit to doing any of those things, Skylar’s long fingers are wrapping around my neglected cock, and it has me momentarily spazzing as my head falls forward to rest against his shoulder.

“W-what are you doing?” I ask, and he begins to stroke me.

“Let me,” is all he says in response, breathless and without room for argument.

There is no prying his wanting hands off me now—he is coiling himself even tighter still around my throat. Skylar is latching on and squeezing, and I fear that I’m at the point of suffocating where you feel so lightheaded that you can’t be bothered to have rational thoughts; everything is sensation.

And man, sensation it is.

His hand moves faster, and as soon as I lift my head to meet his eyes, I find him already watching me in pure fascination. His other hand reaches up to grip the back of my neck, to keep me with him, to take hold of his prey.

“That feels really good,” I admit, and he grins, twisting his wrist slightly as he pumps over my head. The action causes me to grunt, so he does it again on each upstroke.

“Yeah? You like that, Evie?”

“Uh-huh,” I mutter, forcing the sound out as I struggle under the weight of this pleasure. “Squeeze me harder.”

Skylar leans forward, licking over my lips at the same time that his grip tightens. I buck against him, against the feeling of his wet tongue and his torturous hand, sucking in a harsh breath.

“Yeah, baby,” he purrs, “just like that.”

His fingers are kneading the back of my neck.

Who taught him to talk like this?!

Oh, well. I guess it doesn’t matter. Not in this moment.

“You’re doing so good, puppy,” I praise for what feels like the millionth time tonight. But it feels like sex to say, and he flushes every time he hears it. “You stroke me so well.”

“Every time you open your mouth, I want to come again,” he complains.

I grasp one side of his face, leaning forward to lick up his jaw, down his neck, over his ears. He’s whimpering beneath me, and I’m barely touching him—such a sweet little thing.

I can feel the pleasure coiling deep in the pit of my stomach with every warm breath of his that hits my skin, with every flick of his wrist and every little sound that tumbles from his lips. I lean back just enough to reveal what he’s doing to me.

“Watch,” I command, and his eyes fall to my dick where it pulses in his hand, to the filthy moment we’re sharing. I groan at the sight of him watching, my balls drawing up fast and tight. “I’m gonna come, Sky.”

“Come for me, then,” he says, and I gasp as my hand tightens on his cheek, the other digging into my own thigh as I paint the both of us in my come.

I watch his hand move; I watch my release slide between his fingers and our overlapped legs.

And as I finally tear my eyes away to meet his, something hot and thick forms in my throat. My chest aches, tears forming before I can register why. But I’m coming, and it feels like so much when he’s watching me, when it’s by his hand.

“That’s it,” Skylar encourages. “Give it to me. Give me your pleasure—it belongs to me now.”

He looks enthralled by my falling apart; my climax is awing him for some reason or another, and he milks me dry. I’m shaking and sensitive as I peel his hand off me, slumping forward to rest my forehead against his.