Page 253 of Trouble from Abroad
The warning signs start to stack: tight balls, tense gut, fire coiling lower.
I hand her the final command. “Use your other hand under my balls. Run your fingers… right there. Gentle. Yeah. Play with them, baby. That’s it. You’re doing so fucking good.”
I’m gone.
Every wet glide of her hand, every slick stroke of her tongue, every breath that lands on my inches. Mia’s tearing me apart at the seams. And the wildest part is that we’re only getting started.
“Baby,” I grit, barely coherent, “you feel too fucking good. If you don’t want me to come in your mouth, you need to stop. Right now.”
Mia doubles down and mumbles something. Probably encouragement, maybe victory. I ease my grip on her hair, giving her the chance to pull away. She doesn’t. So I let go… of everything.
I come hard and fast. Pleasure tears through me as I unload down her throat. My knees nearly fold. My brain blanks. She swallows all of it, every drop, every curse I spit while I finish in her mouth.
She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t slow. Just drains me stupid.
When I finally see straight, she still has me between her lips, moving in slow motion. Her wet,defiant eyes never lose mine. She looks fierce with pride. Drunk on power and surrender at once. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
She pulls back and licks me clean, tongue tracing every inch like she’s collecting a reward. I tremble harder than a leaf, but as promised, deny her nothing.
The look we share now tells me this wasn’t release. It was permission.
To play. To explore. To wreck her next.
And I plan to start with a shower.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
mia
I didn’t get even halfof him past my lips.
But he never stopped staring at me—except when his eyes rolled back in bliss. One second, he was cursing at the ceiling; the next, he was whispering praise, hands cradling my scalp.
There are no words for how Preston makes me feel. Queen? Goddess? They don’t rank high enough. I need an entirely new tier of worship hierarchy.
“That… was…” He kneels and kisses me.
I gasp. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I flinch anyway. Muscle memory, I guess.
“What’s wrong?” His voice is soft and careful. But the arm pulling me in? That’s all dominance. It wraps around my waist and seals us together.
“Nothing,” I say, and I mean it. My unguarded smile should be proof enough. “I’m just not used to being kissed after giving…” I let the rest hang there, unfinished. Heknows.
His smile is just as sincere, but cocky as hell. “You’re used to messing around with boys,” he says, his thumb brushing the corner of my mouth. “I’m going to show you what it feels like to be fucked by a man.”
Then Preston takes my mouth again. This time, it’s not a kiss; it’s a claim. His tongue pushes in, deep and unrelenting, leaving no part of me untouched. There’s nothing hesitant about this kiss. Nothing apologetic.
He’s showing me exactly how unbothered he is by the taste of himself on my lips. Fucking hell, he licked his cum off my breast last night. Why am I so surprised?
Truth be told, I’m getting turned on by it.
His lips leave mine, but the high doesn’t. I’m still floating when his voice cuts through my fog. “Come shower with me, baby. I want to feel you clean me up with those pretty hands. Every inch.”
I light up instantly. Yes. Yes. Let me map that body and burn the route in my memory.
We’re in the shower moments later, and I lather him with reckless abandon and unreasonable amounts of body wash, letting my hands slide over ridged muscle and bubbles. He gives me the same TLC, but before the suds are gone, Preston pins me to the cold tile and kisses me, bodies sliding together, raising a fresh round of steam. One hand catches my wrists and lifts them while the other hand rinses me with the handheld showerhead. When he’s done, one finger parts me and slips through the slick he made.
The fancy rainfall head can pour all it wants. Preston’s the reason I’m drenched.
