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“You take care of everyone,” she murmured, “carry more than your share of the load.” Her finger covered his mouth, stopping the interruptions sitting there. “For the next few minutes, you’re mine to do whatever I choose with. Don’t speak unless it’s to tell me how good something feels.”
And before he could agree or disagree, she pushed off his lap, slid lower, then took his cock into her mouth. His hips bucked—he couldn’t stop them—and she smiled, humming out encouragement and gripping the base of his erection until his vision tunneled.
Everything stopped.
Because everything became Harley, the amazing things she was doing to him, and the feeling of letting go and being worshipped.
His entire body was board-stiff under her, every muscle clenched as she sucked him down and watched his every reaction. Just when he started bucking his hips up off the sofa, chasing the paradise she promised, she stopped, sliding into position over him, and sank downward until he was buried to the hilt inside her sweet, tight pussy.
He groaned aloud, his mind blank, every brain impulse focused on the firing of pleasure centers. With a crunch of his abs, he sat up, wrapped his arms around her, and dragged her closer so he could bury his face against her wild heartbeat and ride out the shock waves of ecstasy buffeting his body.
Her hands clutched his shoulder, and she held him tightly to her chest as her hips made the smallest of rocking motions. “You fill me, Trigger. You feel so good, and I’m going to make you come.” He clutched her tighter, speechless, certain nothing in his life so far compared to this moment.
He raised his head, kissing her until she pulled away for breath, her rhythm choppy and uncoordinated.
“Come with me,” he demanded.
At her nod, her whimper, he dove for one of her nipples. At the first scrape of his facial hair over the sensitive bud, she cried out and squeezed his dick. He nuzzled her breast, laving all his attention on the nipple—sucking and licking and scraping until she was a panting, writhing mess, undulating in his lap while she clung to his shoulders, a fearless goddess guiding them towards oblivion.
She smiled, the mind-blowing sight almost better than it felt to be deep inside her. He crushed her close until her breasts flattened against his chest and rubbed his lips over hers, needing more, needing everything.
She pulled away, ducking from between his arms, pushing them over his head. “Lie back.”
He followed her command, sliding back onto the sofa, his hands itching to grab her ass and shunt her with him.
But she was there. She braced her arms beside his head on the sofa, her pleasure-drunk stare latched to his, shifting the organ dead center in his chest.
She started to rock again, tossing her long hair back and forcing her breasts forward. He gritted his teeth against the pleasure of her riding him, her moans of ecstasy growing more vocal.
“Trigger.” She groaned his name, reaching to cup both her breasts with her own hands.
His restraint broke. He couldn’t take anymore, couldn’t watch and not touch. He couldn’t deny himself the act of pleasuring her as she drove him close to the edge. He was greedy for her. He grasped her ass cheeks, gently parting them, and slipped his fingers between her opening so he could feel himself sliding inside her tight sex with every rock of her hips.
“That’s right, take what you want from me. Take what you need.” He wanted more hands to explore every inch at once—she was so fucking tempting—but he consoled himself with the two he had, filling one with her perfect breast while the other caressed her backside.
She started to rock her hips in earnest, finding her rhythm again, and the sight of her above him, the feel of her clamped around him, making him close to blowing. He bit back a curse. His jaw clenched as he willed away the urge to give in to the sharp sensation of pleasure bathing his dick. She was driving, but he wasn’t going anywhere without her.
His thumb and forefinger rolled her nipple as she picked up her pace. She took his other hand, sliding it back between her cheeks.
“Touch me here.”
He obeyed, feathering a fingertip lightly over her tight pucker so she was dragged back into a sensual haze he never wanted to see end. And then he was lost, no longer caring who was in charge or who was letting go, as long as they finished together.
“Harley, you trust me, don’t you?”
She nodded on a strangled whimper. “Yes.”
The glaze to her eyes told him she was too far gone to care whose fantasy this started as and who was in control.
“I trust you, too.” Giving her what she wanted was the easiest thing in the world.
She cried out, her ass bumping up and down on his lap. “Yes, Trigger.”
With every downward stroke, his finger skirted her rear, each fractured cry, each moan telling him he was right on target to amp up her pleasure while staving off his own. He wanted her ruined, as she’d ruined him; he wanted her broken and desperate and out of her mind because that’s where his head was.
“Touch your nipples,” he ordered because he needed both of his hands to finish this the way he wanted to. She obeyed, her finger circling and pinching where his left off, and he gripped both of her ass cheeks, adding upward tilts of his pelvis to her down-strokes so every thrust dragged a cry from her arched throat.
“Trigger, please.”
