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“Why don’t you put me in your mouth first?”
She crawls to the edge of the bed with her round ass in the air, tempting me. I want to put my cock back there, but that’s for later. Right now, I’m going to let her open her mouth nice and wide and suck me off until my cum slides down her throat.
“I want to lick your cock so badly, Everett,” she tells me, sitting on the edge of the bed, her knees apart, her fingers pressed against her pussy as if remembering the orgasm that just rocked her.
“Good,” I tell her. “Let me watch you take me, watch your head bob up and down as my cock hits the back of your throat.”
She takes me, her soft hands stroking me slowly. “I want your cock. I want to taste you, Everett. Like you tasted me.”
She lifts a finger from her pussy and offers it to me. I suck her finger, her sweet juice getting me harder than fuck.
Her mouth opens and she starts sucking me, her hands cupping my balls, rubbing against my shaft. Her head moves up and down, and my hands find her luscious tits.
“Oh, Evie, fuck, that feels good,” I tell her.
She moves faster, liking my encouragement, and I press her head down, so she takes more of me. She said she wanted to gag on my cock and I want that too.
She sucks me hard until my cock is ready to explode. I feel my seed shooting from my tip, her warm mouth taking me, her tongue rolling over my hard ridges. She’s moaning, eyes closed and wanting.
I pull my cock from her, the cum shooting in ribbons, and I let it fall across her massive tits that were made to be coated in my cum.
She licks her lips, her chest heaving, her body begging for more.
I tell her to turn around, my cock still hard and her pussy still wet. I roll on a condom and spread her little ass, so I can get my cock in her tight pussy.
On all fours, she takes me, and my cock fills her fully, fills her like we were meant to go together and she cries out as I thrust against her round perfect ass, her pussy tight around my dick, as if all of me is made for all of her.
“Oh, Everett,” she cries, panting in pleasure. “That feels fucking amazing.”
“You feel so good, baby,” I tell her, my hands on her tits, pulling her body to me as I pound against her. Her pussy walls thrum, her nipples erect and my cock relentless.
I fuck her hard, the way she wants and the way I need. Her body is curvy and soft and oh so willing.
“Oh, Evie,” I groan, coming in her pussy, wishing that condom wasn’t there because I want to feel all of her. She screams in pleasure, and I grin, loving a loud woman in the bedroom. A woman who understands that giving her body over to a man who knows how to fuck her properly is the best form of submission.
Evie is all woman, and she is all mine.
Now I need to make her understand that I can’t let her go.Chapter SevenOnce we catch our breath, Everett offers me his shower, and I take him up on it.
“I’ll get dinner started. You made me work up an appetite.”
“That sounds great.”
In the bathroom, I lean against the door, catching my breath from the whirlwind. My legs still feel shaky, and my pussy still hums with pleasure.
Everett fucked me hard, with so much desperation and longing. Desire.
I run my hands over my bare body, wondering why I didn’t feel so exposed with a man who is a stranger.
But I don’t. Somehow, in the space of a few hours, I feel seen.
I shower quickly, surprised to see all his bathroom products are homemade. Mason jars line the bathroom counter, salves, and essential oils, but not in a prissy way.
No, everything here screams self-reliance.
Everything here screams I’m my own goddamn man.
I think about my bathroom counter at home. Bath and Body Works has pretty much been a staple in my life since I was twelve years old. I live for the buy one get one free sales at Sephora. My makeup alone would overrun Everett’s minimalist space.
Of course, I have a space for everything in my bathroom. I even wrote a blog post titled, Organizing Your Makeup Essentials.
Though in truth, my “essentials” included a Top 100 Must-Have list of products. Which is laughable, considering Everett’s goal of having only 100 items in his possession.
I try to imagine his eyes if he saw my house. J. Crew, Nordstrom, and Free People catalogs stacked on my Pottery Barn coffee table. Not to mention my closets.
Let’s just say I have a slight shoe addiction.
