Page 49 of Striking Range

I swear to god, my dick just got harder.

“Lay down,” I instruct, and as he does, I begin to lay kisses over his thighs, up to his hips, and onto his smooth stomach.

All the while his hands roam me. Over my shoulders, into my hair, down my back as far as they can reach. My swollen head is dragging up his leg the further I climb, and it’s driving me crazy. Once I reach his nipples, I pull one into my mouth, feeling him arch into me as he moans.

“What the fuck?” It’s a soft, shocked curse as it leaves him.

I roll the hardened peak between my teeth, flicking the other one, hardening it to match. “You’re so sensitive here. That’s so good, so beautiful.”

“Hngh,” he groans, attempting to rub his hips up and into mine.

I hold him down—didn’t he say he wanted this to last?

This definitely needs to last.

I bite down on his collarbone before switching to lick up his neck. A second later, as the last of my restraint falls away, I’m straddling his hips and staring straight into his eyes.

Cupping my hand, I raise my palm and place it right next to his mouth. “Spit.”

I can read the confusion in his eyes, but he tilts his head up and to the side, doing it anyway.

The slight roll of my hips, the low groan that leaves me—I can’t be faulted for either of these things while Skylar stares up at me, a string of his saliva trailing from his bottom lip to my hand. So fucking filthy.

Animal instincts take over, and I lean down and lick him clean, taking his spit from his lip. Of all the things I’ve done to him tonight, this feels the most intimate.

Skylar watches me as I sit back up, raising my hand to add my own spit to his.

Then I take that hand, reach between us, and at the same time that I take his mouth with mine, I wrap my first around both of our lengths and give them one hard pump.

Skylar tenses beneath me, crying into my mouth as his hands tighten where they have gripped my biceps. My tongue fucks into his mouth in time with each stroke of my hand.

As I pull away, he’s a moaning mess, looking down as best he can to watch as I work us closer and closer to release.

I can feel every inch of his hot skin rubbing against mine. My crown catches his every few strokes and sends shockwaves of pleasure straight through me—the pulse slamming through the underside of my shaft is just slightly offbeat with the pulse of his.

I can feel everything.

“You look so pretty like this, Skylar,” I praise. He sucks in a large breath of air. “All sloppy and wet, so fucking pretty. You’re doing so good.”

“Fuck! If you keep talking, I’ll come.”

I moan into his neck, nipping at him playfully as he bucks against me.

“I can’t help it; I have to tell you. You have to know how good you are. You feel so fucking good against me—just how I thought you would.” My mouth seems to be running away from me, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it.

“Everett!” he cries, causing my own hips to jerk forward. “Please, fucking please. I don’t want to come, please stop.”

Skylar is so desperate to keep this going, to keep me flush against him—to have this pleasure coursing through his veins.

But my desperation to see what face he’ll make as he explodes is rising higher and higher; my own release is inevitable. With each bat of his lashes, each whimper that falls from his pouty lips, I get closer and closer to falling right off the ledge.

God, I can’t wait to watch him come.

“Why, puppy?” I sound just as needy as I feel. “Come on me. I want it; give it to me.”

Skylar groans again, hands reaching out to grip both sides of my face. “Please stop. Let—ahh fuck—let me enjoy this for a bit longer.”

He’s pleading.