Tank (Moonshine Task Force Book 2)(31)

God this feels good, so fucking good. Blaze and I have always been able to heat up the sheets, no pun intended. If there’s one thing we’ve done well from the beginning, it’s this. And to be without her for as long as I’ve been? It’s been torture. What we’re doing right now? The fact she’s invited me back into her body? Fucking dream come true.

Taking my hands off her hips, I run them down her arms. I stretch out from behind her, curling my fingers in between hers, as I hold her against the wall with my weight.

“Fuck me, Trevor,” she sighs as I thrust so hard, I lift her up off her feet.

Feet encased in the sexiest shoes I’ve ever seen in my life. My hips have a mind of their own, pushing, pulling, the plunge, the withdrawal. I’m on autopilot as I work against her body.

“You feel so good,” I whisper against her neck, sucking the flesh as I thrust deeper, hold there for a few heartbeats, and then withdraw again.

“Ohmigod,” she moans, the sound echoing off the surface in front of her. “Make me come, Trevor,” she begs. “Please make me come.”

I take one of my hands from hers, bringing it back to her hair, fisting it with my fingers. “You’ve been a good girl, Blaze,” I pull her mouth around, fusing our lips together. “What do you need? Take your hand off the wall and show me what you need.”

Reaching around my back, she grabs my free hand, bringing both our hands down to her core. With both our index fingers, we flick her clit, working in tandem to get her off.

“Yes!” She thrusts against our hands and then back against my cock in time with me.

My legs are shaking with the effort to hold back, but more than anything, I want to feel her come. I need to feel her pussy clench around me, have to hear the little noise she makes in her throat as she gets hers. There’s more lubrication, helping our digits slide against each other and her.

“Come on, baby, come for me,” I encourage her, because I know I’m going to blow, even though I already came once tonight.

“I’m so close,” she leans her head back against my shoulder.

Taking my other hand off the wall, I go to work at her tits again. Roughly grabbing, twisting the nipple, wishing like fuck I could turn her around and lick it with my tongue. I miss it, my mouth waters at the thought of holding the piece of flesh there. But this isn’t about me, it’s about her. Letting go, I lick the pads of my fingers before moving them back to her nipple, squeezing the way I know she likes it.

We’re both sweating, breathing heavily, grinding against one another. We’re both so damn close it’s almost a live thing between us. I’m clenching my teeth, wanting her to go before me, because I’ll be damned if I come before her. To wait this long and be a two pump chump? No fucking way.

Her palm comes off the wall, and she grabs her other breast, going to work on the erect flesh. “Yeah, yeah,” she’s chanting in time with my thrusts. Her body is getting slammed into the wall by mine, but she doesn’t care, and if she doesn’t care then I don’t care. Can’t bring myself to. Only thing I want to do right now is come and feel her come.

“Feel good? You there, babe?” I bite down on her shoulder just as she clenches on my dick.

“Yes! Fuck yes!” She moans, thrusting back against me. It’s like she’s broken through a brick wall and she’s on the other side, breathing heavily, now lazily stroking her clit, and putting her hand back on the wall.

It’s all I need. I push home, let myself go, and groan deeply in her ear as I pour myself into the thin piece of rubber that separates our bodies. And finally, fucking finally, I feel like I got a piece of myself back tonight.

Maybe, just maybe Trevor Trumbolt can start to put himself back together.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN




Blaze


Glancing at my reflection in the mirror, I again don’t recognize the woman staring back at me. Instead of someone with a polished updo and perfect makeup, I look alive. More alive than I have in months. Turning my head from side to side, I see my neck bears the evidence of what happened a few minutes ago with Trevor.

Reaching up, I run my fingers along the already purpling bruises and finish taking down the hair he wrecked with his fingers.

Luckily for me, I curled it before I put it up. Using my fingers and a comb I found in one of the drawers in the bathroom, I go to work, trying to make it look less “just been fucked” and more “beachy waves”. Once the hair is as good as it’s going to get, I take in my face with a critical eye. My lipstick, true to my words earlier, still hasn’t smeared. My mascara is a different story, it’s smudged under my eyes. A quick dab of water-softened toilet paper and I’ve fixed it as much as I can.

This is as good as it’s going to get. Opening the door, I spot Trevor sitting on what was my childhood bed.

“If I had come out of my bathroom as a teenager and you’d been sitting there, I’d probably think I had died and gone to Heaven,” I tease.

He’s fixed his pants, tux jacket, and looks like he’s run his hands through his hair, just like I did.

“If you had come out of the bathroom looking like you do right now, teenage me would have come in his pants,” his voice is deep, pitched low with arousal I’d thought we’d already taken care of.

“And what does mid-twenties you think?”