Page 54 of Trailer Trash

I don’t care. Not right now.

That’s why he waits till I’m moaning and tugging at his hair before his hand drifts down. He slips under my waistband.

I whimper in resistance, but part my legs for him.

He sucks harder, with every intention of bruising my skin. He must know I’ll look in the mirror tomorrow and see what he did to me.

He strokes over the thin cotton of my underwear, teasing my pussy lazily. My hips roll, desperate for him. He slips inside my underwear, and I groan as he touches my skin.

“You already wet for me, baby?” he taunts.

Of course, I’m already wet. It’s him.

Damn.

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Yes.”

He dips two fingers inside and pumps, then drags them to my clit. He swirls and massages the sensitive spot.

I lay back and writhe my hips.

Then—

The blade presses against my throat, directly over my frantic pulse!

I don’t move. The slightest lift of my head will press my throat into the edge.

“Killian?”

“Shhh,” he murmurs. “You have to stay still, baby. I didn’t say you could move.”

His fingers work once more, making tight circles around my clit. Naturally, my hips lift, wanting to grind against him.

The blade presses down, reminding me it’s there.

“I told you, baby,” he says darkly. “No moving this sad, neglected body.”

“I—I can’t! It feels too good.”

He doesn’t laugh. “You will.”

He resumes. Every time my hips twitch, he increases the pressure just enough for the edge to sting.

So I stay so stiff, staring at the ceiling, coaching myself not to move my hips. They’re tense and trembling, aching to grind against him.

“That’s it,” he praises. “You’re such a good student when you want to be.”

I moan, helpless, and as an orgasm rips toward the surface, I panic.

“I’m about to cum! I’m about to cum!”

Every muscle tightens. I know my back will arch. My hips will move.

My heart races, the adrenaline too much to bear.

It hits.

Stars explode behind my eyes. The blade’s edge vanishes from my thoughts.