Twenty-Five

CORA

The sensation of Everett’s cock sliding into my pussy is intense and surreal all at once.

His bruising grip tightens on my spread thighs, and he pushes even deeper. I cry out against the stretch. He’s big—and my natural inclination is to clench around him. From the guttural moan he expels, I know he feels it.

His next thrust is measured but deliberate, like he’s giving me a moment to adjust. The reprieve is much needed. Everett’s is the first cock I’ve taken in months, and the friction is startling but satisfying. I wiggle my hips, urging him to keep going. His lips touch mine right before he thrusts more of his length into me.

A moan swells from deep in my center. The release is intrinsic, nearly beyond my control—and entirely necessary. I missed this. I’ve ached for this.

I’ve ached for him.

The world awakens around me, enveloping me in a heightened rush of sensation. I’m undeniably aware of my surroundings: The shadowy cover of the trees. The curtain of rain and vapor. The cloying night air. The unforgiving scratch of the tree against my back.

And slowly, my senses focus on him: firm muscles and coarse stubble and a fat cock and the familiar sound of his breaths tickling my ear. Sensory overload peeks over the horizon line, but for now, my world is defined by an unprecedented melding with another person. Everett is everywhere—and he has become everything.

He continues his glorious stretch, pushing the rest of his cock into me until his groin reaches my pussy. “There it is,” he grits, stilling his motions. “There’s nothing tighter.”

Another moan slips past my lips. “You feel amazing,” I reply, slanting my head back against the tree, willing myself to adjust. There’s just so much of him—and I want him to love this. I want him to cherish this. I want him to remember every detail of this moment. I want him to live to fuck me and only me. I want him feral for me. I want him to become unnerved at the mere thought of being anywhere but nestled in my willing body—and I’m ready to become equally as obsessed with him.

Everett grins, oblivious to the monumental desire I’m now rationalizing into fate. Future. He’s significantly taller than me, stronger too, and the indentations of his muscles protrude elegantly under his wet shirt. I glide my hands up the curve of his neck, marveling at what I’m seeing—feeling. His body is sturdier than I’ve ever realized, like the marble he personifies, but graceful at the same time.

He was made for this too.

Everett rolls his hips back before thrusting again. Again. And again. He works up the pressure, testing me—pounding into me now. My pussy clenches around him, sensitive but satisfied. “Good?”

“So good,” I confirm, shutting my eyes. Rain scatters over my eyelids and runs down my cheeks, relentless. “So fucking good.”

His mouth drifts to my neck where his lips press against my pulse point as he carries out another thrust—a full retreat of his hips before he surges back inside me. I gasp—and my hands dig into his skin.

“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to be inside you.” He pulls back. “To fuck you.” He surges upwards, more vigorous this time. “To work those needy sounds out of your throat.”

“Should have taken me sooner— shit, ” I reply, barely able to string the words together when he swivels his hips.

My response makes him thrust harder—and even harder on the re-thrust.

Now, his motions are nothing short of brutal, and I want more. Need more. I drive my fingers into his hair and shove his face low. His perfect teeth graze my flesh, and I’d let him mark me anytime he wants—but right now, I want his mouth on my breasts.

“Suck them,” I urge when his cock plunges into me at the right angle. “Suck my tits. I need it.”

“Such a slut for nipple play,” he counters before he runs his tongue along the side of my breast, licking it crudely before darting down and nipping the underside. “You’d let any cock into your tight little body if that was the going rate for a mouth on these perfect, pierced tits.”

The clash of sweet and perverse, of praise and degradation, morphs into tangled desperation. I tug on Everett’s wet hair and finally get what I want—his mouth on one of my pearled nipples.

His lips wrap around it, indulging in ruthless suction before he bites my barbell. The feeling is pure decadence. My body is nearly limp under his ministrations, and there’s no denying it: Everett is astounding on a tit. He switches to the other one, and his tongue extends to lick the tip before taking my entire areola between his lips.

I whimper. I fucking whimper . His mouth is ungodly, downright sinful, and I can’t stop myself from blurting out, “You can’t be serious— yes, right there . You’ve been this good at sucking tits the entire time I’ve known you?”

The bastard seems to ignore my question at first, until I realize his response is a tacit, resounding YES when he buries his face between my breasts and licks the plane of my collarbone on his way back to my mouth. He takes my lips in a kiss that starts nasty and gets more intense by the second.

His thrusts are just as animalistic.

He rears back and plunges into me, keeping me pinned against the tree trunk. His left-hand slides from my hip and presses against my clit. The added friction is indescribable—and I’m getting close.

And he’s gone to it, head bowed, entirely dialed into railing me. “I waited seven months for this goddamn pussy, and it was worth every—” Thrust . “Fucking.” Thrust . “Second.”

The pleasure is the feeling of freefall. Everett is a cyclone, and I’m caught up in him, sheltering in the eye of the storm. And yet I’m drawn to the edges—to the catastrophic danger outside of my comfort zone. He doesn’t sweep me up; I spiral willingly, taking more, taking everything he can give me. My limbs begin to tingle, pleasure mounting from every nerve ending and every rain-soaked surface of my skin.

I cry out, coming so unexpectedly that I fist Everett’s hair in a brutal grip. But he keeps pumping through my climax, faster and rougher, like he knows I can do two.

And I do.

I come again, and it’s headier this time—less sudden and more intense. My body is alive, and pleasure courses while hundreds of raindrops heighten the sensation. I’m reciting his name, I’m babbling, I’m absolutely beside myself—and I’m uncharacteristically content to disintegrate in another person’s arms.

Everett is still going, lips pressed against my neck, teeth scraping my skin. His sculpted muscles flex, clutching my spent body against him.

I want him to come. I want him to finish inside me and to leave his cum there.

“Keep going,” I urge him. “Fuck it into my tight hole. Fill me with your cum.”

“God, princess.”

“I want all of it,” I insist, gripping his jaw with clawed fingers. “Every drop is mine. Do you understand me?”

“Every piece of you is mine ,” he grits coarsely, before thrusting into me one last time with a groan. I gasp. The heat of his cum immediately tingles inside me, spurt after spurt of it, filling me as deep as he can get it.

And then there’s no comedown. My body stays alert and needy, sensitive as he layers a kiss on my shoulder—a doting kiss…a kiss to soothe the mark he bit onto me when he came.

I whimper again as the sting of pain rises, burning and satisfying and new. He bit me. He bit me.

He bit me and I fucking loved it.

When Everett pulls back, his gaze is full of heat.

“Holy shit,” I whisper.

Everett smiles, and I swear I’ve never seen this guy before. He’s soaking wet and his hair is darker, plastered to his forehead. His eyes aren’t evergreen but emerald and black around his big, seeking pupils.

“You’re everything I’ve always wanted,” he murmurs.

“Same,” I answer, realizing it as I say it aloud. Same .

He grins. “I’m going to make you so fucking happy.” And right when I think he’s done, when I think he can’t possibly realize any more of my fantasies, he raises his chin and orders, “Spit,” before parting his lips and holding them open for me.

I tug his wet hair, rearing his head back before I purse my lips and spit directly into his mouth. It remains on his pink tongue until I press the heel of my palm against his chin. His lips clamp shut, and he swallows with a gulp.

And there, staring into Everett’s eyes and watching him slowly drift back to Earth, I’ve never felt closer to the cosmos in my life.

“I’m going to like being your secret, Everett,” I whisper before rubbing my thumb on his cheek, letting him know he did such a good job tonight.

***

The drive back is quiet—and drippy. At the Halcyon, Everett parks in the garage, sparing me the indignity of wandering through the lobby looking like I got fucked by a hurricane. I don’t want to leave him though.

“Come to me tomorrow.”

He squeezes my hand. “I have a donor breakfast at eight, a few hundred thank you cards to write, and a dinner, but I can come by afterwards.”

“Won’t work. I’m streaming, but I can spend the night at your place, assuming the reporters are gone.”

Everett’s expression sinks. “I have another donor breakfast at seven,” he replies, letting out a slow exhale. He drums his fingers on the wheel. “I’ll cancel.”

“You absolutely won’t. I don’t half-ass things and I sure as hell don’t date men who half-ass anything, including political campaigns.”

Everett’s mouth curls at the corner. “Alright. I’ll see you Friday night?”

“Not until late—like early Saturday morning. I’m going out.”

“Girls’ night?”

“No, I’m trying to pick up a guy.”

I’m not sure what reaction I expected, but none of my expectations could have been remotely close to Everett sitting catatonic for fifteen seconds.

“Because Beverly told me I had to,” I fill in quickly. “Obviously, not an actual pick up. Just a conversation and…wow, you could give the Statue of David a run for its money with that stare. Look, we need to level set. Everett—baby, look at me. We’ve been over this, but once again: I’m a camgirl,” I say, enunciating each word. “Every week, hundreds of men look at my wet, naked pussy and my marvelous tits and watch me do obscene things with them. Are you comfortable—okay, you just licked your lips and now you’re biting the lower one, so I’m going to take that as a yes.”

At the mention of me camming, Everett is smirking. “I’m very comfortable. Sure, we can leave it at that.”

“Well, if you’re comfortable with all that ,” I continue, “surely you’ll be comfortable with me having one drink at a bar with a guy.”

His smirk fades. “Can’t you fake date Dalton?”

“And face Essie’s wrath? Pass. She’s tiny but terrifying.” I soften my expression. “You know nothing’s going to happen.”

“I know, but this doesn’t sit well with me.” He sighs, looking through the windshield at the quiet garage. “But at the same time, I guess I should be grateful. You’re good at this, which bodes well for me making you the First Lady of the United States.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re out of control.”

Everett grins before he reaches into his glove compartment and takes out his wallet.

“Shit,” I realize, “I still have your credit card.” I take my phone out of my purse and slide the heavy black card out of my case.

He doesn’t take it from me. “That’s not mine.”

“Well, it’s not my Centurion card.”

He lifts his chin. “Look at it.”

I do—and it takes me a beat to process what I’m seeing: My name is on an Amex Black Card.

“What the fuck,” I mouth, practically gaping at it. “How?”

“I added you as an authorized user. It’s basically limitless, so get anything you want.”

I turn the card over in my hand. It’s so much heavier than a regular card. It just feels expensive. “When did you order this? Up until tonight, I’d never even touched your dick.”

“I watched thirty of your old streams and immediately requested it.” He picks up his phone and swipes before he clicks his tongue. “I need you to spend more.”

“What are you talking about?”

He rotates his phone. His Amex app is open to his current balance, where the only transaction item is the hundred and seventy dollars I spent on sex toys while I was waiting for the debate to begin. “Spend more.”

“On what?”

“Everything you want. I’m not going to have my girl wanting for anything. Spend more .”

I haven’t struggled with money since I started camming, but I’ve always been cautious with spending. Sensible. My parents were humble with what little money we had, and I haven’t shaken the mindset. But Everett is eager, tapping his fingertips on the wheel while he waits for a response.

“Alright,” I agree. “I’ll spend more.”

He beams. “Taking my money like a good whore,” he murmurs before reaching out and squeezing my thigh. “And taking all that cum and leaving it right where I put it. You’re a natural at this.” Then his hand goes back to the glove compartment, where he pulls out a thick stack of bills. “You earned this,” he tells me before handing me the cash.

I count it because I know he wants me to. Ten of them—a thousand dollars.

“Thank you, congressman.” I kiss his cheek. “Are you sure you’ll be okay on Friday?”

His expression is equally aloof and charming—so Everett. “Don’t worry,” he assures me. “I can handle you going out with another guy for one night.”