Page 44 of Dedicated
“You make a lot of assumptions about me.” The words landed close to my ear as he leaned in and licked a wet stripe over my neck.
“I’m usually right.”
“Mmm.” A nonanswer as he pushed his finger deeper inside me. I braced one elbow on the counter and turned a look over my shoulder. Evan’s attention was fixed on his finger as he pumped it in and out of me, the other still gliding along my taint. The tandem sensations saturated my body in arousal, making my vision go hazy at the edges. When I reached my other hand back and spread myself for him, he inhaled sharply and jerked his gaze to mine, his eyes wide and unfocused with heat. “You really are shameless.”
“And you love it.”
He didn’t deny it. “Where’re your condoms?”
“You make a lot of assumptions about me,” I threw back at him.
“I’m usually right.” He grinned, stepping around my side to cup my jaw and draw me up for another searing kiss. God, he was good at it.
“Wallet. Lube, too,” I managed around a moan.
Evan didn’t go for them immediately. His brow furrowed as if in concentration, and he kept one hand spanned over my jaw while he continued to play with me with the other, teasing the muscle, plunging a finger inside, stretching and plying me in direct proportion to the pressure of his touch. And it wasn’t expert, but it was fucking earnestly attempted, which was just as hot.
Outside, the drum circle started up again, and the tempo rolled through the ground beneath our feet. Evan picked up the rhythm and stroked me to it, his hips rocking gently against me, his touch a form of intoxication that blew any drug high or liquor buzz out of the water.
“Shit,” I whispered, tipping my head back when he started trailing his lips along my jaw and down my neck. My dick throbbed and I wanted him so much my cells ached with the need to feel him thrusting inside me. Almost every time I’d imagined us together, it’d been the other way around: me behind him, pounding him senseless. I didn’t typically like bottoming, so the force of my desire was electrifying. I had no idea if he sensed it or what—sometimes we were on a wavelength to a degree that was frightening—because he asked, “How long has it been since someone was inside you?”
“Years.” And when I detected hesitation, I hurriedly tacked on, “I want it, though. Fuck, I want it like you wouldn’t believe.”
Evan’s fingers worked me a few more times, and I was left pushing back into nothing when they abruptly retreated. I heard him pawing through my pants, and I collapsed over the counter, gulping air while he got himself ready.
“Yes,” I groaned at the wet tip of his sheathed cock anchoring against my hole. He reached for my hips, sliding his length up and down my furrow a few times, his fingers tightening to keep me steady. He dropped his forehead to the nape of my neck and laughed. “Shit, this might be short-lived.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart, I won’t judge.” Even if he couldn’t see my grin, I knew he could hear it in my words.
He clapped a hand over my mouth and nudged the head of his cock inside me. Not recklessly, but with enough force that I couldn’t reply when he said, “Call me sweetheart again and you’ll regret it.”
When he pushed in deeper, I moaned into his palm, and he kept it pressed over my mouth so that every sound coming from my throat vibrated against his skin.
“Jesus,” he exhaled softly, and I knew exactly what he meant. There was something eerily perfect about how he fit against me, the palm he had clapped over my mouth, and the seductive, swaying bassline of drums surrounding us as he fucked me.
I licked his palm, salty and tart, and he twisted his hand, sliding his thumb between my lips, running it along my teeth. I clamped down and sucked, and he exhaled another groan, his hips surging forward harder. Electricity streaked up my spine with every thrust. I twisted my hips a little and…there. A string of curses escaped me as Evan nailed my prostate over and over.
“Does it feel good?” I whispered.
He thrust into me faster, and his arm came around me, pulling me upright. “Yes,” he grated out against my shoulder.
“Good. Do it harder and tell me how much you like it.”
“Such a fucking talker. You’re tight. So fucking tight, and…” His words came out with gaps between them, and then his breath hitched again. “Stop asking me to string fucking words together right now for fuck’s sake.”
The pots on the table rattled, soil spilling from the counter to the floor.
“Then get your hand on my cock and get me off. Maybe I’ll shut up.”
“Doubtful,” he grunted in a tease, but he dropped his hand from my chest and slid it down my stomach to give my cock a few rough strokes. That was all it took. I came with a whimper and a full-body shiver, contracting around his cock as I slicked his fist with my load. I gasped out his name, babbled all kinds of nonsense, and felt him begin to shudder. My cheek smacked into the counter as he flattened my spine with a brutish shove of his hand, then drove into me hard, over and over as he shattered with a moan.
Our bodies heaved against each other as he draped gracelessly over my back. A minute passed, and then he pulled out of me. I rested my cheek on my forearm, watching from the corner of my eye as he bent to pick up the foil wrapper and wrapped it around the spent condom.
I was about to make a flirty quip suggesting he drink more often when my shorts landed on the counter next to me, and he said, “I’m ready to go once you clean up. I’ll meet you out front.”
And then he just fucking left.
I watched him go in bewilderment, then took stock of my surroundings. The moonlight pouring in thick shafts through the clear roof of the greenhouse, the marks in the packed dirt floor from our bodies, the dishevelment of my hair. The aches on my body from where I fell, the bruised feel of my hips where he’d gripped me, the throbbing echo of his dick inside me. And for the first time in my life, I felt fucking used.