Page 73 of Striking Range

“How do you want me to do it, Evie?” Skylar sounds so innocent in the dirtiest way.

He sounds delicious, like he wants me to eat him. I’m not sure how long I can go without touching him.

“Uh…” My brain is fried.

“Like this?” His fingers slip under my shirt, and I hiss as they run over the stray bruises there.

He doesn’t let up, swirling around my nipples as I pant, groping lightly at my pecs. I can feel him hardening against my hip where he sits, those blue eyes lust-blown and hooded as he stares down at me, wild curls dipping onto his forehead.

He’s eating me alive with those eyes—assessing the damage he can do. And fuck, can he. He could destroy me if he wanted; he can coil around me as tightly as he pleases and squeeze.

I’d welcome it.

“Or, like this?” Skylar rolls his hips, his ass rubbing over my clothed cock in a deliciously evil manner that pulls a groan from my throat.

My hands shoot out to clasp onto his thighs—my grip tight. I won’t be the only one with bruises come morning. His breath hitches.

“Sky,” I warn, but I’m not quite sure what I’m warning him of.

He grins, cheeky and mischievous. “Hm? No? Maybe this, then.”

His lips land on my neck, nipping at me, dropping wet kisses in his wake as he goes.

It’s intoxicating—Skylar being over me like this, so dominant and sexy. I’m being thoroughly fucked by just his lips and his words, his wandering hands and his rolling hips. At this point, I might just come in my pants.

And I wonder, for a moment, how something this lovely can be so wrong. How could it be a crime to look at this man and want to cultivate everything that he is?

“You’re drunk,” Skylar says against my skin, regaining my attention. “When you breathe, I can taste the booze on you. It’s hot.”

“You’re not exactly sober yourself,” I point out, feeling the silk of his hair on my chin as he works my neck generously.

“Hm. Ture. But even sober, I want you this badly. Ever since you touched me that first time, I’ve wanted you.”

My mind replies, I have wanted you for much, much longer, though I do not say this.

Instead, my hands roam his bare chest, feeling his hot flesh beneath my fingers, and I let it spur me on.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, Sky. Fucking gorgeous sitting on me like this,” I ramble.

He sighs, loud and dreamy. “I love it when you talk to me like that. Like you’re obsessed.”

“So damn obsessed,” I assure him, fingers digging into the meat of his ass as he draws patterns on my jaw with his tongue.

“Fuck me,” Skylar suddenly demands, and I startle, catching his eyes as he leans back enough to stare me in the eyes.

“What? Are you sure you want that?”

He nods, desperate and needy. “Please.”

“But you’re a virgin. I-I’d be taking your virginity. You don’t want it to be special?”

Skylar tilts his head at me, as if he thinks I’m stupid. “Is this not special? You’ve been my best friend for years. When I look at you, Everett, I see something that belongs to me. And by law, in nature, that means I belong to you. Take it. Show me what real pleasure feels like.”

I have him flipped under me so fast—so fast, in fact, that the squeal that leaves him doesn’t make an appearance until seconds after he’s stationary against the mattress.

“Whoa,” he breathes out.

“I’m going to destroy you,” I whisper against his mouth, so fucking charged with need, with desire to own him the way he’s been mentally claiming me.