Thirty-Three

CORA

The next morning, Everett is inside me. I’m laying on him with my cheek pressed against his bare pectoral, and when I shift, the friction from his thick, erect cock is a better wake-up jolt than coffee.

When I sucked him off before the debate, he told me this cock was mine. Even when he’s asleep, he said. It’s mine to use however I want—and I’ve never declined a gift.

I brace my hands on his chest and sit up, keeping him inside of me. With my shins on either side of his immaculate body, I roll my hips. The pressure is beyond decadent.

And Everett is so beautiful when he sleeps.

I drag my hand over his shirtless chest, touching the chiseled planes of muscles before my fingertips drift to his nipple. It’s dusky and pink, flat except for the peak, and all I can think about as I press my tongue over it, is how unbelievable it would look if he pierced it.

I get a feel for him, tracing the edge of his nipple before I take the whole thing between my lips. I suck, groaning when the tip hardens in my mouth—seconds before a hand fists my hair.

Everett wrenches me off his chest with an unforgiving grip, and I gasp from the ache in my scalp. A wry grin covers his face, and it seems to grow broader when I narrow my eyes in return.

“Fuck you, Everett,” I mutter, attempting to shake my hair out of his hold. I succeed, but his hand immediately goes to my neck.

“That’s a new one,” he muses, squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing. “Where I’m from, we say ‘good morning.’” His hips rise. “God, you feel tight.”

“I was not too tired to go again last night,” I insist, meeting the motions of his thrusts.

He’s too busy fixating on the sight of his cock penetrating me to respond. “How are you so tight ?” he blurts out. Then, without warning, he rolls us over and pins me against the mattress by my wrists. I only catch a glimpse of his pierced cock head before he shoves it back between my spread legs, but I can definitely feel it. “Not going to apologize for last night.”

“Then you can get out of my pussy,” I retort, even though I would murder him if he pulled out right now.

Everett bows and sucks my nipple between his lips. One, then the other, then back to the first before he rears back and fully slaps my tit. “Then I’ll pay to fuck it,” he grits before he presses his hand against my stomach, lingering briefly before sliding his thumb to my clit. “Is it fun being my whore? Or are you ashamed? Do you worry what everyone would think if they knew what a cumslut you become when I pay you?”

I groan, loving the attention he’s paying my clit. His thumb nudges my piercing, and I find myself gasping, “I love being your whore, congressman.”

The moment breaks when Everett’s phone begins vibrating on the nightstand.

He doesn’t even look at it. “Ignore it. Eyes on me.”

I do ignore it, which is easy thanks to the awe-inspiring thing he’s doing with his fingers: pressing the spot between my piercing and my clit, moderating the blood flow. When he eases the pressure, a tingle of sensation spreads from the spot, and it’s the single most divine thing—

“Fuck you,” Everett bursts out when his phone starts buzzing again. “Literally go burn. Can you not see I’m trying to make my girl ascend?”

“It’s a phone, Everett. I know they don’t have them in the Cerberus-guarded cave where you spend your weekends, but you have to answer it.”

He exhales through his nostrils before he grabs the phone and glares at the screen. “Whatever.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m on a group text with an old priest and a young priest. They sensed unprecedented godless energy coming from my home and wanted to see if I needed help.” He gives my tit another sharp slap. “Where was I?”

I hoist myself up and kiss him, but his phone vibrates again—a third call. Groaning, I flop back onto the pillow. “Just answer it, you stubborn bastard.”

“Look, you’ll never fully grasp this concept, but it’s damn near impossible to stop fucking Cora Flores without complaining.” Annoyed, he grabs his phone. “Good morning, Dad.”

My jaw drops.

Smirking, Everett pulls his cock out of me and collapses on the mattress. I sit up, jaw still lowered, and gape at him.

“I’m well,” he says into the phone, but he snaps his finger at me before pointing to his erect cock.

The whole thing is classic Everett Logan, and last month, this entitled act would have prompted me to reduce him to something that could be studied in forensics courses. But today, I put one hand on his cock and resume what he interrupted earlier: playing with his nipple.

“ Fuck ,” he mouths when I suck on the tip. Then it’s a more emphatic “ FUCK,” when I run the flat of my tongue over his entire nipple, pressing my piercing against it.

Everett’s hand caresses my hair, stroking it affectionately, and I don’t know what’s more twisted: sitting behind the Governor of Virginia while wearing his pride and joy’s cum on my tits, or licking said pride and joy’s nipple while they’re on the phone.

“You called so many times, I assumed someone leaked a dick pic,” Everett replies.

I stop sucking his nipple and glare. I’ve never gotten a dick pic from Everett. “ Who were you sending dick pics to ?” I mouth.

He mutes the phone. “Dalton and Lander,” he replies before unmuting once more.

My eyebrows rise of their own accord, but I don’t question his response. Everett sending his two lifelong best friends a picture of his dick is not only unsurprising but remarkably on-brand for those three.

I move to his nipple again, but he stops me before he reaches into his nightstand and takes out a dildo.

A dildo.

Everett has a dildo .

It’s medium length, decently girthy, and forest green—pretty, actually. Still…it’s Everett’s .

Before I can process what I’m seeing, he mouths, “ It’s new ,” and presses the tip between his lips. The metaphor is immediate and obvious—and perfect. Holy shit, it’s perfect . Everett has given me countless tips and a limitless line of credit, but no gift will ever compare to him doing exactly what I’ve been telling him to do since the day we met:

He’s fucking his own face.

He watches me the entire time, sucking, taking more inches between his amazing lips and deeper into his mouth. At least a minute passes before he pulls the dildo out. “ Down ,” he mouths.

Then he looms over me, phone in one hand and the dildo in the other, and a man has never looked more like a god. He plunges the toy into my waiting pussy, and for the next few minutes, he fucks me while talking to his father.

“Understood. Thanks, Dad.” Finally, he ends the call.

When he pulls the dildo out, I whimper.

“Oh no, beautiful. Sad because your hole is empty?” he asks before he pushes his actual cock into me.

My arms wrap around his bare body, gripping his lean muscles. “Harder.”

Immediately, he plunges deeper. “Fuck, I love how much cock you can take,” he murmurs before he grabs the dildo and urges the tip into my mouth. I suck, tasting myself on it. “All those tight holes. Sometimes, I don’t know where I’m more excited to put my cum: in that slutty little throat or that dripping pussy.”

Seconds later, when we come together, he picks my pussy.

Devious, I grab the dildo and climb over him. A challenge lives in his canted brow, and he doesn’t object when I slide the round tip of the dildo over his body. I circle his pectorals. I press it into the divot of his bellybutton. I drag it along the delicious v-cut leading to his cock.

And I roll off him and keep going, bringing the tip to his inner thigh, over his groin, and up, up, up , until it’s head-to-head with his pierced cock.

Everett raises himself on his elbows, making his abs tighten and define. He stares at the point of contact between his cock and the dildo. “Your brain is filth.”

“Your body is insane,” I reply before glancing up. “Is this okay?”

He nods. “I like everything you do to me.”

Dragging the toy lower, I nudge between his legs, prodding below his balls. “What about there?”

Everett doesn’t flinch, but he does shrug. “Well, I’m a virgin there,” he admits.

“Has anyone ever touched it?”

With an even expression, he shakes his head, which makes my jaw drop.

“But it’s so pretty,” I muse.

Everett chuckles. “It’s pretty?”

“ So pretty ,” I insist, tilting my head and assessing his little pink hole. “Bet I could turn you into a slut for it.”

“ It meaning…you want to fuck me?” His eyebrows have never been higher.

I raise my shoulder. “Is that something you’d be into?”

“I don’t know,” he confesses. “Like I said, nobody has ever…”

As his sentence trails off, his eyes flick to my hand and he nods—tacit approval. Reaching over his body, I slip my index and middle fingers between his lips. He sucks them.

Once they’re good and wet, I place my fingers between his legs and guide one of his knees up. Slowly, I press the tight bud of his asshole and give him the gentlest touch, the slightest pressure.

He groans so loudly that it nearly startles me.

“Good boy,” I whisper, stroking his inner thigh and caressing his muscular body until I feel the newly formed goosebumps on his skin subside under my touch. “Relax for me—yeah.” When the tension in his hole eases, I push again. My fingertips penetrate him an inch, and I stop there. “Still with me?”

One of Everett’s hands is tangled in his dark hair and the other is gripping my wrist. “I could take more.”

Adorable. “You want to be brave for me, baby?”

He nods, and the temptation to take things further is certainly there. But instead, I draw my fingers back and press a kiss on his knee before guiding his leg to the mattress. It’s enough for his first time.

When I lay next to Everett, he pulls me into his arms and kisses me.

“My father apologized for last night,” he mentions moments later. “He still wants me to come by to prep for the Rutherson interview next week.”

Skeptical doesn’t even begin to cover my reaction. “Do you believe him?”

“Do I believe he’s fine with us? No. Do I think I’m more useful to him as an asset rather than a liability? Absolutely.”

“Well, be careful,” I murmur.

“Logan men are unpredictable,” Everett replies, exhaling. “I’m always careful.”