Page 45 of Not on the Same Page

Trina slides forward, taking me in her mouth and hollowing out her cheeks. She brings her hands up to the sides of my thighs and holds on as she works, her head bobbing up and down, taking me deeper each time.

“Fuck, Trina,” I groan. The head of my dick hits the back of her throat. Her eyes start to water, but she doesn’t tap me, so I do it again. I palm the back of her head, letting her silky hair run through my fingers before grabbing the strands, holding her where I want her, and thrusting. Her throat closes around me, and I almost lose it.

But I hold on for another second, waiting for her signal. Her eyes grow defiant as she looks up at me, and I know then that she won’t tap out, so I pull all the way out of her mouth while maintaining my grip on her head. She sputters and coughs. When she catches her breath, she opens her mouth again, waiting for me.

A rough chuckle slips out as I tug on her hair. “You want more?”

She tries to nod, but she can’t move with the hold I have on her.

“Words, Trina,” I demand.

“More,” she says, her voice raspy.

I thrust into her mouth again, fucking those red lips as saliva drips over me and down her chin. She moans, and the vibrations around my dick almost send me right over the edge. Quickly, I pull out. She wipes her mouth, looking up at me and waiting.

“On the bed,” I say. “Lie back and open up for me.”

She does exactly as I say, putting her ass right on the edge of the mattress. I pull a condom from the nightstand and waste no time ripping it open and rolling it over my length. Hooking my hands under her knees and lifting her pelvis, I line myself up with her entrance. I grip the underside of her legs and slide into her.

“Oh god,” she moans as she fists the comforter in her hands. “Casey, please. More.”

I set a slow, rhythmic pace. My grip on her legs makes it impossible for her to grind in the way she so clearly wants to. I know I’m not giving her enough sensation, but that’s on purpose. Teasing her is the best part—watching her writhe and beg makes me even harder inside her.

I thrust deeper this time. She cries out. “Yes, Casey. Harder.”

She knows what she wants, and it’s me. I can’t think about what that means, so I pump in and out of her, harder each time. Trina is wonderfully vocal tonight, letting out tiny little moans and gasps with each movement. Every time she says my name, I’m closer to coming.

But I can tell I’m not getting her there, so I slow my pace and let her ass hit the mattress again. Shifting my weight, I bring one of her legs up to my shoulder, then I lift the other to the same shoulder so her thighs are pressed together. I hold on around her calves and start a new rhythm, angling so my pelvis rubs up against her clit with each thrust.

Trina lets out a long, low moan to let me know this is what she needs. Her tits bounce beautifully until she cups them and rolls her stiff, pink nipples between her fingers.

“Shit, that’s hot,” I say. “I need you to come, Trina. I’m close.”

“Mm-hmm,” she hums. She tightens the grip on her nipples, then cries out, her body shuddering and her pussy clenching around me.

That’s all it takes for me to follow her over the edge, emptying into the condom.

I remain inside her for another minute while I collect myself, and while I don’t want to pull out, I know I have to. When I do, Trina rolls over quickly and stands, making her way to the bathroom. While she’s in there, I dispose of the condom and clean up before I climb under the comforter, sitting so my back is resting against the pillows.

When Trina comes out of the bathroom and sees me, uncertainty crosses her features again. It’s as if she’s warring with herself—does she get in bed with me, or does she leave?

I know one thing for sure: I don’t want her to go.

“There’s ice cream in the freezer.” I’m not above bribing her with dessert. Luckily for me, her face lights up.

“Say less.” She bounds out of the bedroom, and I hear the clatter of dishes and silverware. After a few minutes, she comes back holding two bowls filled with vanilla ice cream. She hands one to me, then slides under the comforter, brushing casually against me as she settles herself.

She wiggles closer, resting her shoulder against mine before scooping up a huge spoonful of ice cream and licking it off the spoon. If I were younger, I’d probably be hard again just watching her.

“You did a number on my throat.” She giggles. “This is extra good.”

I smile as I watch her eat another spoonful. “I’m glad.” I scoop up my own bit of ice cream. “You okay?”

“God, yes.” She sighs, settling herself back against the pillows but not losing contact with me. I’ve been craving her touch since we were in Denver. There’s no way I’m going to ask her to move before she’s ready.

“Good,” I say before taking a bite.

A few minutes after she’s finished eating, she’ll leave. There was only one time when she fell asleep on me, and I let her—right before things blew up for us the first time. We won’t let that happen again. But for now, I lean a little closer to her, wiping some ice cream off her nose and licking it off my finger, soaking up the little happy sigh she makes when I do.