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“That goes without question.”
“Good. Then I guess the only thing left to ask is what my safe word is going to be?”
“Whatever works for you, kitten,” he says, pulling my foot off his chest and grabbing both of my ankles, sliding my ass until it’s at the edge of the bed. He wraps my legs around his waist and snakes his hand behind my neck to pull me up to his chest.
“That will require some thought,” I muse, running my fingers up and down his broad chest. “Do you have one?”
“Mavericks.”
“Mavericks? As in the New York Mavericks?” I giggle after learning that Trent’s safe word is the name of the Guardians’ rival team.
“It gets the job done.” He smiles, fiddling with the end of my ponytail.
“Then Mavericks it is.” I coo, tugging on the hem of his t-shirt to bring his face down lower to meet mine. “Now that we’ve taken care of the preliminaries,” I whisper against his mouth. “How about you fuck me already?”
The loud groan that he lets out before crushing his lips on mine has my pussy soaked. His tongue breaks through the seam of my lips, intent on dominating its counterpart. His hand grips my throat, tightening it just enough to keep me docile while my hands slide under his t-shirt, my fingers running over every hard edge and tight abs. When I see black ink peek out under his shirt, my hands work double time to push his t-shirt up, to which Trent breaks away from our kiss just so he can pull it over his head.
Okay.
Here’s the thing.
Trent has always been sex on a stick, wearing his expensive designer suits.
But bare-chested?
This man gives a whole new meaning to hot!
The Celtic imagery he has tattooed on his arms travels all the way to his upper chest, leaving an empty canvas where his six abs reside. The intricately inked wise owl his midriff indicates that if I follow its claws down to his crotch, I’ll be rewarded with my prize.
I kiss each of its wings while pulling his pants and boxers further down to have a better view of his cock. Yes, I had it in my mouth not even a few minutes ago, but now I can take full advantage of eye-fucking its wide girth and length.
I guess my idea of a man having a big ego, so no one suspects him of having a little dick, doesn’t apply to Trent.
Because this man is huge all over.
I’m about to give it another kiss on the head, when I feel Trent pull my head back by tugging on my ponytail.
“None of that, kitten. You’ve had your fun. Now it’s my turn,” he warns before pushing me back on the bed.
My breath hitches as he removes his shoes, pants, and boxers, only to then pull my skirt off in a hard yank, throwing it to the corner of the room with the rest of the pile of clothes. In nothing but my t-shirt and panties, I lay there expectantly, just waiting to see what he does next.
“So many options and so little time,” he muses more to himself than to me, planting lavished kisses on my calves and up my thighs until his nose reaches my soaked panties.
“Fuck, you smell good. And you taste even better,” he groans.
I let out a loud squeal when his fingers snap my panties on their sides, destroying them completely.”
“Those were expensive.”
“You can bill me for them,” he retorts before flipping me over and placing me on my knees.
“What are—”
But my question dies on the tip of my tongue when I feel his breath fan over my pussy, his digits right back on my clit.
Jesus fuck.
His ministrations on my sensitive nub start deliberately slow while his tongue fucks my drenched pussy. I fist my duvet cover as he keeps eating me out, and when his tongue pulls out only to draw circles on the rim of my ass, I lose my freaking mind. The stimulation of his fingers flicking my clit, left to right, while he eats my most private of intimate places drives me up the wall and then some.
