Lovely Trigger(71)

My eyes filled from his raw tone as much as his words.

“You and Jared.”

I sucked in air. “I’d like to see you tonight,” I managed to get out.

“Yes,” he said quietly, vehemently. “I’ll be at your house, right after my show, okay?”





I opened the door for him the second he got to it. I’d been waiting, watching out my front window like a lovesick puppy. I wore nothing but the T-shirt I’d pilfered from his house a few days prior.

He took one hot look at me and took me to bed.

There I was, topless, and him, the most gorgeous creature to ever lay his hands on me, nuzzling between my breasts, cupping them, kneading them, paying each one very special attention.

And all I could picture was Mona, nearly tipping over with those giant boobs of hers.

I had the sudden and overwhelming urge to bolt. That would have been the wise choice.

Instead, I opened my big mouth. “They’re pretty tiny, huh? Compared to what you’re used to, I mean.”

He froze, then pushed up on his elbows, giving me a puzzled look. Puzzled and a bit glazed over. He’d definitely been into what he was doing.

I held my hands out a good foot in front of my chest, to illustrate just what I meant.

His expression stiffened, and he started shaking his head, still looming over me, one of his legs wedged high between mine.

I needed to get away and take a breather. I was embarrassed that I’d even brought it up, no matter that it’d been bothering me.

“We don’t need to go there, Danika. Who I’ve been with, who you’ve been with, in the lost years. I don’t have the stomach for it.”

“I was just surprised…I mean, how did I never know that you preferred huge, fake boobs. I’m surprised you never tried to talk me into getting some.”

He pushed back from me until he was sitting up, feet over the side of the bed, his hip still wedged high between my legs.

I started to push myself away, but he stilled me with one hard hand on my hip.

“You want to do this? Fine, but you’re starting.” His voice was resigned and more than a touch resentful. “How long had it been since you’d f*cked Andrew before we were together at the ranch?”

I flinched at the crude language, feeling somehow ashamed when I shouldn’t have. Logically, I knew that. But being here, with him and talking about how I’d shared my body with some other man made me look at it in a way I never had before. Made me compare it to the awful way I felt when I thought about who he’d been with.

“How long, Danika? How many weeks, or was it days before you moved from his dick to mine?”

That was too much, and I pushed away, wrenching out of his hand, turning until I was on my knees on the bed, intending to leave.

His chest covered my back, pinning me in place before I got far. “I’m sorry. That was an * thing to say. As you can see, this is a touchy subject for me. I don’t prefer huge, fake tits, if that’s what you were asking. I’ve only had what I preferred with one person, and that was you, Danika. I wasn’t with her because I liked her boobs. I was lonely, and she was a friend, okay? There’s not much more to it than that, and I’m sorry I asked about Andrew. Truth be told, I don’t want to know about you and him. Just saying his name makes me feel sick to my stomach.”

I shut my eyes when I told him, “I broke up with Andrew long before the ranch. Several months, actually. We were just friends at the time. There was no overlap. Not even close.”

He didn’t answer with words, but his breath grew ragged as he moved tight against me. I felt him working at his fly between us.

“At the wedding, you made me think you were still together,” he accused, but there was no heat in it. Even without seeing his face, I knew he felt nothing but relief at the revelation.

“I know. I’m sorry. I was using that to keep you at a distance.”

He barked out a laugh as his hands pushed my skirt up, yanking my panties down. “How did that work out for you?”

I didn’t answer right away, because he was pushing his cock into me from behind. I braced myself on my hands and knees as he worked himself in hard, my eyes trying to roll up into my head with the pure sinking pleasure of it.

“Not well,” I finally admitted on a gasp, when he’d buried himself to the hilt.

His only response was to slowly glide out of me, then thrust back in hard.

I whimpered, arching my back.

“This right here,” he growled, pulling slowly back out. “This is what I love.” One of his hands palmed my breasts and he started to move in earnest, jerking in an out in a rough rhythm. “This is what I crave, what I need. This, sweetheart, is what I prefer.”

He gripped my hips, lifting them so all of the weight was off my knee, and began to work me hard.

I lowered myself to my elbows, reached a hand down and felt for him. His scrotum was slapping into me with every hard thrust, and I palmed him, cupping, scoring my nails on him lightly. I felt them tighten up when he started to come, and lowered the arm still bearing weight, going facedown into the bed so I could cup him with one hand, and rub my clit with the other.

He was still thrusting, deep in the throes, when I caught up to him, eyes rolling back in my head.

In more ways than one, I was done for.