The Trade(67)

Neither will I.

My cock rubs against the mattress, the lack of relief almost too painful to handle. I’m tempted to reach between my legs and start pumping my hand up and down the hard length of my dick but remind myself this is about her, and her needs. Giving her the fling, despite how much it’s going to hurt me in the long run.

Reaching up with the hand that’s not spreading her wide open for me, I grip one of her breasts and squeeze it, then pull on her nipple, rolling the nub, then filling my palm, then rolling and pinching, all the while, my tongue presses flatly against her clit but doesn’t move.

She shivers beneath me, her body thrumming with release.

“Cory, you have to move. Please lick me.”

When she begs like that, it sends an acute thrill through my veins, adding to this incredible experience. It makes me want to do exactly what she’s begging for.

I release her breast and lower my hand to her navel where I press on her stomach with my palm, keeping her in place while I flick my tongue along her clit.

“Yes, just like that.” Her hand threads through my hair, pulling on the short strands when I swirl my tongue around her bundle of nerves, rotating and reversing the motion until she starts to shake under my touch.

“Want more?”

“Yes, God, yes. Make me come, Cory.”

Releasing my hold on her but keeping my tongue in place, I press two fingers inside her entrance and start moving them in and out, curling up with each thrust in. I match the movement with my tongue, flicking and pushing in at the same time, swirling and curving at the right moment.

Her hands grip the blankets, squeezing tight, her mouth falls open, her chest lifts, and she screams my name so loud, I swear people on the beach can hear her as she comes on my tongue.

Her pussy constricts around my fingers and her hips try to ride me, but I keep her in place. I make her come over and over again with my small movements, to the point that her legs are shaking and she’s on the verge of tears. I slow down, turning my strokes into long languid ones, until she’s completely sated. That’s when I lift off the mattress and go straight to the bathroom, lock the door, turn on the shower, and start pumping my hand up and down my cock like I’ve done every other day this week. This time, I can taste her on my lips, and taking her on my tongue is no longer a dream, but a reality.

I lean against the tile of the wall, my back to the cold surface, the contradiction of my blazing hot skin against the cool wall ensuring my senses feel everything.

The cool water.

Her taste.

Remembering the noises she made.

The tightening of my balls.

Every last inch of my swollen cock . . . until white-hot bliss spreads through my limbs, singeing my veins, and taking over every nerve ending in my body.

My cock swells and I grunt loudly as I come so fucking hard, I slide down against the wall until I’m a puddle on the shower floor.

“Fuck.” My breath comes in spurts, my heart beating so wildly that I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack. What the fuck did I just put my body through?

I’ve never edged like that, I’ve never not taken, and I’ve never felt so emotionally determined to making a woman come that if I didn’t feel her clench around me, I wouldn’t be satisfied.

Burying my head in my hands, I sit on the shower floor, trying to comprehend how I’m going to handle this now. How I’m going to not get emotionally invested in this woman when I want more and she wants less.

The only answer? I don’t. I walk back out there and act like everything is cool.

Be casual.

Act like her smile doesn’t have me by the balls. And the more I fake it, hopefully the more I believe it.

I quickly rinse with some soap and then dry off. I rub the towel through my short hair and then wrap it around my waist since my boxers are in the other room. On a deep breath, I open the bathroom to a dark suite, the only light in the room is from the moon reflecting off the ocean outside.

Did she go to sleep?

Wanting to be quiet just in case she did, I tiptoe to my bag, find a clean pair of briefs, thanks to the laundry service at the resort, and slip them on just as I hear a sniffle. I whip around to see Natalie curled up on the couch bed, covers drawn over her, a slight shake to her shoulder.

I still my breathing, holding it so I can hear better and in the matter of seconds, another sniffle.

Is she . . . crying?

Just the thought of her being upset pulls at my heart. Did I make her upset? Was I too rough? Too demanding? Hell, I couldn’t help myself. I can’t be held accountable for my actions, not when I was finally getting a taste of what I’ve wanted for so long.

Before I can even think about what I’m doing, I toss my towel toward the bathroom and pull the covers of the bed down . . .





Chapter Sixteen





NATALIE





Oh God. Oh God. Oh my fucking God.

I have never experienced . . . an orgasm . . . where I can barely feel my legs. I loved Ansel for a very long time and thought we’d had a beautiful relationship in bed. But what Cory delivered, what he just did to my body, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. His fingers, his tongue, his lips, the scratch of his coarse hair to my soft skin . . . it was indescribable.

My throat feels hoarse, my skin burns from his scruffy jaw, but I relish in the feeling of being marked by him. Being marked all over by him. After that many orgasms, I feel like I’m floating on a cloud. It’s bliss.