The Trade(54)

Having Natalie here, sharing a bed, wearing that nightgown, smelling like a goddess, it’s firing off all the synapses in my head, shooting all rational thoughts straight to my cock—who is terrible at making decisions. My brain is in an epic battle with my cock. He wants nothing more than to spread Natalie’s legs and run his smooth head along her clit, just something, anything to relieve the pain billowing at the base, while my head is reminding me over and over again that I don’t want to be a rebound. That I don’t want to be a fling.

Not with this girl.

Natalie laughs next to me and I force myself to chuckle as well, even though I have no idea what’s going on.

And that’s how it goes for the next hour, me trying to pay attention, Natalie laughing here and there, the sound so sexy and throaty it drives me even more crazy. Her laughs start to slow down and I feel her turn to the side, her back toward me, her ass lightly grazing my thigh.

I lift my fist to my mouth and bite down, counting to twenty, trying to calm my racing heart. Either she’s wearing a thong or no underwear at all. Those are the two options from the way I can easily feel the curve of one cheek brush against my outer thigh. Just one shift—that’s all I would have to do—just one shift of my body, turning her into the little spoon, my hand spreading over her stomach, slipping under her nightgown, pinching those tight nipples. I’d rock my dick against her ass, let her feel how hard she’s made me, how desperate I am for her to spread her legs for me.

I stifle a groan.

Is she asleep? Fuck, please let her be asleep. I look around her shoulder. Her eyes aren’t on the TV but closed while her face rests on the pillow.

Finally.

As stealth as I can be, I lift myself from the bed and take a quick look at my crotch. There’s a wet spot on my shorts, my cock is jutting out as if it’s ready for a duel, and my legs are weak beneath me as I shuffle like a goddamn idiot to the bathroom, trying to keep my back toward Natalie the whole time just in case.

I flip on the shower, strip down, and make my way into the stall where I quickly grip my cock. One hand to the tile, not caring that the water is still cold, I pump my hand up and down, gripping the base tightly and then dragging my hand up to the tip. The precum more than sufficient lube.

“Ah, fuck,” I mutter, breathing heavily.

I’m right there. This is so embarrassing, but I’m right fucking there, at the precipice. The muscles in my back bunch as my lungs heave. Pleasure courses through my spine, tumbling down until it hits the base, coiling deep in my balls. I swell in my hand, my balls tighten, and I turn my mouth into my bicep where I groan loudly, as I come so fucking hard it nearly knocks me to my knees.

As I watch my come get washed away by the water, my hand still lightly pumping over my cock, I think that even though my body just shook with such a powerful orgasm, I don’t feel even five percent sated.

My body knows what it wants and my hand is not going to cut it, not if I’m going to survive this trip with a cock still attached to my body. But what’s the alternative? The sexy-as-fuck woman in the next room doesn’t want me. And there’s nothing I can do about it. But suffer.





Chapter Twelve





NATALIE





“I masturbated today.”

“Um . . . well, hello to you too,” Monica says over the phone. “That’s one way to start a conversation.”

Lying on the bed in the bedroom, I press my hand to my forehead and look toward the ceiling fan. “Monica, it’s bad. It’s really fucking bad.”

“Cory getting to you?”

“Yes. And I can’t seem to control myself. Two nights ago, I wore a nightgown in front of him, the one you packed for me. The just in case nightgown.”

“You did? Oh shit, and nothing happened?”

“No,” I groan again, closing my eyes. “I mean, granted, I’m not a seductress at all, and for all I know, Cory Potter doesn’t find me attractive in the least, but I was desperate. We had a moment.”

“You had a moment . . .” she drawls out. “Explain the moment.”

“Well, leading up to the moment, I’ve been unable to control myself. You know, the classic staring and fantasy dreaming while lying out by the pool. The fantasies are so vivid sometimes that I startle awake, thinking he’s actually touching me, only to find palm leaves grazing my arm.”

“Oh my God.” Monica snorts and then apologizes. “I’m sorry, go on.”

“Emory planned for us to go to disco bingo and of course, everyone coupled up leaving me with Cory.”

“What a hardship,” Monica says sarcastically.

“It is when you’re hard up and want nothing more than for the man to pin you against the wall and claim your mouth as his.”

“Okay, okay, so you have fantasies.”

“So many, Monica. It’s painful. Anyway, we were having fun, joking around like we have been and then our desserts came and something happened between us. I could feel his eyes on me as I took my first bite.”

“Oh God, did you make it sexual?”

I bite down on the tip of my finger and then say, “I did.”

She laughs into the phone. “You’re so mean. Did you slide the fork out really slowly?”