Page 46 of From the Wreckage
When I’m bare before him beneath the sliver of moonlight coming through the window, his breath stutters. “Christ, Brielle…” His voice is reverent. “You’re perfect.”
Staring into his eyes, I sit up. Grabbing the hem of his shirt, I tug it up, wanting it off. He reaches behind, pulling it over his head. My fingers trace the muscular planes of his torso, gliding over warm, soft skin, dipping into the crevices of his abs.
His breath rasps out as my hands slide to the button of his jeans. The sound of his zipper fills the room. I tug at his jeans, lowering them. He stands there in a pair of black boxers, all tanned skin and taut muscles, his restraint showing.
I drink my fill of him, my fingers gliding to his boxers, stroking the hardness inside. He hisses, his head falling back.
I’m so turned on by the way I affect him.
Grabbing his boxers, I tug them down, my eyes going wide when his cock springs free. I gasp, my hand wrapping around it. “You’re so big. So thick.”
He shudders beneath my touch, chin dipping to his chest, eyes locking with mine. “It’ll fit, angel. Don’t worry. I’ll take it easy on you.”
I nod before I lean forward and lick the tip, tasting his salty precum. He watches me, brown eyes blazing, breath held in his lungs.
When I take him into my mouth, he releases it in a whoosh that has my pussy growing slicker. His fingers thread into my hair, like he needs to hold on while I take control.
My tongue glides over his length before I take him deeper, choking on his size. He groans, then whispers, “Goddamn, angel. Your mouth is incredible.”
His words embolden me. I suck harder, my jaw aching, his hips flexing once before he growls and pulls back. “You need to stop,” he pants, “before I explode.” His hands cup my face. “And that’s not happening until I’m inside you.”
Leaning over, his mouth finds mine again, softer now, coaxing mixed with want and need. His hands cup my breasts, his thumbs brushing the sensitive peaks until I arch into him, gasping. Then his lips trail down my throat and to my chest, lingering over every place he touches as though memorizing me with his mouth.
“Everett,” I whisper, trembling when he sucks a nipple into his mouth, his thumb flicking the other one. I squirm beneath him, my nipples having a direct line to my pussy, making me wetter.
His groan rumbles through his chest and into my skin, making me whimper.
“Please,” I whisper as he releases my nipple, his lips trailing kisses over my stomach. “More.”
He settles lower, his big hands gripping my thighs, spreading me open for him. For a fleeting second, Joey’s voice echoes in my head. “Don’t be so needy, Bri. You’re too much sometimes.”
Shame pricks hot under my skin… until Everett looks up at me, his eyes dark and reverent, and rasps, “Tell me if it’s too much.”
The words break something in me. He’s not mocking. He’s giving me control. My breath shudders out, and when his mouth finally lowers to my pussy, all traces of Joey vanish in an instant.
I break apart instantly, a cry ripping from my throat as his tongue strokes and teases, his hands holding me open for him. Heat floods me, wave after wave, and I clutch the sheets with shaking fists, my body bowing off the bed.
He doesn’t stop. He devours me like he’s starving, like the taste of me is the only thing that’s ever mattered.
When I shatter, his name breaks from my lips, desperate and raw. I fall back onto the bed, trembling, only for him to crawl up my body, his mouth finding mine again, letting me taste myself on his tongue.
“You ready for me, angel?” he murmurs against my lips, his breath rough, his body shaking with restraint.
I nod, my voice wrecked. “Yes. God, yes.”
He lines himself up, groaning as he slides inside me, slowly and carefully, inch by inch until I’m full of him, until I can’t breathe from the intensity of it. My body stretches and burns, then settles into an ache that feels like being remade.
My nails dig into his back, my lips parting on a whimper. “Everett…”
“Look at me,” he growls softly, his eyes locked on mine. “Don’t look away.”
I don’t. I can’t.
Every thrust is a promise, steady and deep, his eyes searing into mine as if he’s pouring every broken, desperate truth he has into me. I cling to him, needing more, needing everything.
“Told you it would fit.” His grin is flirty, eyes full of pride. “You take my cock so well, angel.”
“God, Everett.” His words make me wetter, the sound filling his room. “Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”
