Chapter 40: Dead of Wynter: Chapter 39

As Everett lays me down in the middle of the bed, his hungry eyes feasting on me as they survey every inch of my body, I can’t help but think about the night we spent together all those years ago. The night he took my virginity.

For as long as I’ve known him, Everett has been what I can only describe as hard. His childhood was almost non-existent, he saw things he never should have seen from such a young age, and he lost both his parents way before he should have.

But with me, he’s not that man. He never has been. With me, Everett is soft and nurturing, his eyes are always filled with warmth when he looks at me, and the way he touches me like I’m about the shatter in his hands, it’s almost as addictive as the man himself.

That’s how he is right now, except where I usually see confidence, I see doubt. He’s not sure how to proceed after I broke in his arms. He doesn’t think I can handle what he has planned, but that’s the thing he doesn’t understand, and I can’t quite find the words to tell him.

I can handle anything Everett does to me, as long as he never leaves again.

“Ev,” I whisper, watching as he discards his clothes in a pile on the floor. Every inch of his perfectly toned body that he uncovers is my own personal fantasy come to life. “I need you.”

His eyes flare with heat that matches the one burning between my legs, some of the doubt disappearing to make way for lust. Everett prowls onto the bed like a lion stalking his prey, and if he looks at me like this, I’m quite happy to be his meal. “Is your pussy aching for me, dove?”

I tug my bottom lip between my teeth to mask the moan clawing up my throat. He knows how he affects me, but for him to know that just his words can illicit undeniable pleasure seems almost too much right now. “Yes,” I admit.

A predatory smile crosses his face and I can’t help but squeeze my legs together hoping for some relief. His eyes track my movement and he shakes his head slowly.

“None of that, Wynter.” His hand slaps down on my thigh and makes me jolt despite it being lighter than all the ones that have landed tonight. “So needy,” he admonishes, his fingers trailing up and down my thigh where a red handprint is forming, likely matching the marks on my ass. “But you know you still have some punishment left, don’t you, Wynter?”

I nod my head once, unable to find the agreeance he’s looking for through the lust clouding my vision.

Everett smirks. “If you’re good for me, I’ll let me come as many times as you want. In fact, I’ll drag so many orgasms from your body you’ll be begging me to stop. Are you going to be a good girl for me, Wynter?”

Heat washes over me at his words. After not dating much over the last eight years, no one has spoken to me like this, and the only dirty talk I’ve been subjected to has been what I’ve read in books, but all his words serve to do is make my core ache for him. “I’ll be good,” I whisper.

“I know you will, little dove.”

Everett brushes his fingers up my thigh and over my stomach until they gently trace the swell of my breasts. The light touch is almost maddening in itself, but he knows that. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me, and just how much it driving me wild. His fingers move across my overly sensitive skin and leave goose bumps in their path, while I struggle to remain still for him. A switch has flipped and now all I want in the world is to please him, to be good for him.

Giving my trust and submission to Everett is like handing over my worries, my insecurities, and my pain to someone else so that I can just be, and if that’s not freeing in itself, I don’t know what is.

When his hands move back down over my belly, there’s a fresh determination in his gaze. If I didn’t know Everett as well as I do, I would miss the barely contained need vibrating through his body. The way his shoulders tense the closer his fingers get to my core because while I need to restrain myself from coming, he needs to stop himself from throwing in the towel and fucking me like his body begs him to.

That’s the thing about orgasm control that a lot of people miss. While until recently I haven’t tried my hand at it, I’ve read a lot of books about these types of dynamics, and it’s always struck me as interesting that only the control of the submissive is ever commented on, when in fact it takes just as much, if not more, control for the dominant party to restrain themselves. Having someone else’s pleasure in the palm of your hand as you stop yourself from taking your own is just as hard to control.

Everett’s fingers brush across my mound and I barely contain the moan caught in my throat. He’s not touching me where I need him, but every touch of his skin on mine is lighting its own wildfire, and when they finally dip between my legs, the moan dislodges. The slightest of touches across my clit almost has me coming off the bed, but I remain still, knowing it will only prolong things if I thrash about, and that’s something I can’t handle.

“Your sweet pussy is gushing for me, little dove,” he comments, a small smile on his lips as he watches his own fingers with rapt attention.

A strangled groan escapes my throat at his dirty words, and I feel the wetness gathering between my thighs right before Everett grips my knees and pushes them apart. He quickly repositions himself until he’s laying between them, his face just a few inches from where I need him. He looks up at me through hooded eyes, mischief and heat dance in the deep blue pools, and I can barely handle the sight in front of me.

The moment this tongue makes contact with the oversensitive skin of my inner thigh I almost come clear off the bed, and when his teeth sink into the same place I let out a scream I should be ashamed of. After all, my entire family is in this house, but as his lips trail toward my heated sex, I can’t spare them a thought.

“Everett, please,” I beg. I can’t take much more of his teasing, so I may as well result in pleading with him.

His eyes meet mine a moment before he lowers his lips to my waiting pussy, and the moment they close around my clit I let out a relieved moan. I have a long way to go, I have no illusions that he’s going to make this easy on me, but even just having some stimulation is enough for now.

Everett groans as he laps at my wet pussy, his eyes locked on mine as he feasts on me like a starved man. The sight is so erotic it only has more wetness gathering there, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “You taste so fucking good, Wynter. I could spend the rest of my life between these thighs and die the happiest man in the world.”

“Oh god,” I moan as his teeth nibble at the sensitive folds, the line between pleasure and pain becoming more and more blurred the more time that passes.

“Not God, little dove.” He smirks and I can’t help but shake my head against the pillow. Even in the throes of passion he makes me laugh.

His fingers probe my entrance, drawing gentle circles where I need him to fill me, teasing me until I’m panting beneath him and willing to sell him my fucking soul if it means he’ll ease the ache he’s created.

I shouldn’t be surprised when he gives me what I need though, when his fingers breach my pussy and immediately home in on the place inside me that sets me off like a nuclear bomb. The feeling is heaven and hell wrapped up in an excruciatingly pleasurable package.

Everett’s head lifts to watch me as his fingers thrust in and out of my tightness, curling as they pass my G-spot.

“Is that good, little dove?”

“So good,” I pant, my fingers gripping the sheets beneath me with all the strength I can manage.

“I’m glad you think so.” He smirks, his hand pulling back only enough to add an extra finger before pushing back inside me.

I scream out, the fullness taking me off guard. I haven’t had anything more than a vibrator inside me in eight years, and he’s starting to push my comfort.

Everett sucks my clit into his mouth, and some of the ache is eased by the additional pleasure. Somehow he always knows what my body needs even when I don’t.

“Ev,” I groan. “I can’t.”

“Yes you can, little dove. I’m just getting you ready for my cock,” he murmurs against my clit. The sounds his fingers make as they push in and out of me are obscene, and yet it only seems to bring me closer to my climax. “You’re taking it so beautifully, Wynter,” he praises, and a moment later I’m right on the edge.

My head moves from side to side, the sensations overwhelming me until I can barely breathe, but I fight it. I fight my need for release, knowing that Everett will give me exactly what I need when he sees fit, and there’s no sense trying to get there sooner than he’ll allow.