Exposed to You (One Night of Passion 2)

“Do you want to come like this?”

Her clit started to burn beneath his finger. She grimaced.

“Joy?”

Why did he have to make her say it?

“Yes,” she hissed.

He cupped her entire outer sex, the ridge of his finger pressing against her clitoris. His entire arm jerked as he stimulated her. Joy made a croaking sound of surprise. Her hips instinctively bobbed against his hand. It felt unholy good, but his actions were much more aggressive than he’d been with her before—than anyone had been with her. He was jacking her off, his movements unapologetically forceful and succinct. The burn in her clit became untenable. It reached all the way to the soles of her feet and her anus.

“Oh . . . Everett,” she whimpered helplessly, her hips twitching as if he were a puppeteer and she were helpless to resist his hand’s demand. Her ass muscles clenched tight, amplifying the burn.

He slid his middle finger into her slit, still palming her outer sex. He continued jerking his arm, up and down, up and down, until a vein started to pop in his rigid, flexing bicep. Her fingers clutched at his neck as she topped the crest of sensation. She tipped over, shuddering in orgasm.

“Oh . . . no . . . oh, God . . . awww,” she muttered incoherently as he continued to stimulate her just as forcefully while she came. The waves of pleasurable release just kept coming. Every time she thought they’d ease, he jerked his arm, demanding more.

She gave it to him until she was left gasping and sweating, clinging to Everett like she thought there was a risk of drowning in all that sensation. She felt him shift his hips. His penis brushed against her lower belly, leaving a thin trail of pre-ejaculate on her skin. She knew he was testing to see if his cock could take the place of his finger.

He cursed. “You’re too short.”

“You’re too tall,” she corrected.

“I have an idea.”

“Isn’t that what got me here last time?” she asked dryly when he gently removed her calf from his shoulder and she stood again on two feet. For a few seconds, she just stood there dazedly. She realized he’d gone over to his cargo shorts and was hurriedly digging in one of the many pockets. He was in profile to her. His cock protruded from his body at a downward angle between his legs, the thick head reminding her of a fleshy, succulent arrow tip.

Her panting breath stuck in her lungs, her body perking up again in sensual awareness.

He returned, ripping open a condom package. She watched him avidly as he rolled the prophylactic onto his rigid member, his actions precise. Hasty.

“Here,” he said, pointing toward the rock where she’d set her clothes. She glanced at him in surprise, realizing he wanted her to stand on the rock. She frowned and stepped up, wincing when her feet hit a rough ridge.

“Do you want to put your shoes on?” he asked, taking her hand to steady her.

“No . . . I mean, maybe,” she said, flustered as she shifted on her feet, trying to find a smooth place on the rock. It seemed so strange to be discussing the mechanics of being screwed in the forest.

“What exactly did you have in mind?” she asked when he picked up one of her tennis shoes and started loosening the laces.

“Just like what we did there,” he said, tilting his chin toward where she’d just stood on one foot while he’d made her come explosively.

“Everett,” she protested, laughing. He bent over to slide her foot in her shoe. She stared at the length of his muscular back and the tops of his round, muscular ass cheeks. She shoved her filthy foot into her shoe. “I want you to know what I’m sacrificing. I love these tennis shoes.”

“I’ll buy you twenty more like them. And a couple cartons of bug repellent along with them,” he muttered as he hurriedly helped her with her other shoe.

“That’s not what I—” She swallowed thickly when he stood, steadied her with one arm and urged her to lift her leg again. A moment and some maneuvering later, she stood before him on the rock, the back of her leg resting on his shoulders.

She was damn well doing a split standing up, Joy realized.

Everett held her steady with one hand at her waist and pushed his cock into her widely spread slit with his other. He’d found the ideal angle for entry by standing her on the rock.

“Aw, Jesus,” he muttered as he slid into her, his jaw clenched hard. His other hand shifted to her hips, balancing her in their precarious stance. “Don’t ever let me make fun of you for stretching again.” He thrust. They both groaned. The unusual position was making for a tight, highly stimulating ride. “I love your long, flexible legs,” he muttered as their pelvises slapped together, the blows sending ripples of sensation through her flesh. She grasped his shoulders desperately, sensing the storm approaching in his hot eyes. She cried out sharply when he slid the length of his cock out of her and thrust it back into her with one long, swift stroke, their bodies smacking together, his hands on the back of her waist and hip, absorbing some of the blow. “I adore your nipples,” he added, watching the way her breasts trembled at the impact each time he drove into her. Her vagina was stretched so tight, every time he withdrew she felt the drag of the thick ridge beneath the head of his cock. Her nerves protested and purred in pleasure at once. He powered into her again and groaned gutturally. “I worship your tight, wet little pussy,” he grated out.

Dappled sunlight played across his rippling shoulder muscles and her clutching hands, a jay squawked loudly in the tree above them and Joy’s senses swam in a rough, choppy sea of pleasure. The tight, wild expression on Everett’s face as he fucked her was scored on her consciousness.

Had she ever given herself so completely as he did at that moment?

Was she even capable of it?