Page 132 of Double Bucked

Everett adjusts. He’s too tall, and he moves off of the bed, kneeling as though in prayer on the floor. He pulls me forward, throwing my legs over his shoulders, and only then does he dive between them.

I let out a moan of relief.

Everett knows me too well. He knows just how I like to be licked. He slides his tongue along my slit, lapping at me, and then swirls it around that bud of pleasure. He gives small, little sucks that make me rock forward against his mouth.

His hand joins in. A finger fills me, and then a second.

My toes curl, and I know I’m done for.

“Oh God,” I whisper. “Oh, fuck.”

Nothing can stop the wave of pleasure that crashes over me. My legs lock around Everett’s head. My entire body trembles, going stiff and tense. He curls his finger inside of me, coaxing me closer and closer until I’m right there.

I cry out. I come so hard it’s almost painful. My body throbs and pulses, pulling at his fingers, dancing on his tongue.

As the waves ebb, Everett steals his tongue back. “She’s flooding my face,” Everett narrates for Ransom. His breath is hot on my dripping sex. “I believe our girl enjoyed that.”

Our girl. I like the sound of that. So does my cunt. It throbs tightly around Everett’s fingers, and I whimper, helpless with pleasure.

But then Everett’s gaze shifts to Ransom.

“Come here, dragonfly.”

Ransom blinks. “Me?”

“Yes. You.”

But my breath catches in my throat because…

Dragonfly.

I remember the story Everett told me. How at the orphanage, the dragonfly was his only friend. His companion. His brother.

That’s it, isn’t it? The shift in the energy between them.

I’m his good girl, and Ransom…

Ransom is Everett’s dragonfly.

Ransom gets up. He comes over to us. Everett untangles me from his shoulders, settling my legs down. He rises to his feet.

“Have a taste of her,” Everett says.

When Ransom starts to lower himself to a kneel, however, Everett catches his bandana, the way someone might grab a kitten by the scruff of its neck. He pulls the other man close.

“Not there,” he corrects. His tone is dark. Pointed.

Everett’s face is glistening with me.

I watch as understanding blooms over Ransom’s expression. His eyebrows scrunch together in brief concentration as he studies the other man. Then his hand slips over the side of Everett’s neck. Ransom fits his thumb underneath Everett’s chin, tilting his head up. There’s a hesitation, but then—he goes in. He slides his tongue over the sharp line of Everett’s jaw. Over his cheek. At the edge of his mouth. Cleaning him. Carefully licking every taste of me.

Oh, fuck. Why is this turning me on?

Meanwhile, Everett’s sharp blue eyes catch mine.

My heart tightens. I can’t read the darkness in his gaze. What is it?

Possessiveness? Adoration? Absolution?

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