Until Trevor (Until, #2)(32)
“Jesus, you have the tightest, smoothest f*cking *.” His hands squeeze my ass harder, lifting and pulling me down on him in fast rapid thrusts. “This is what heaven must feel like,” he grunts, his pace becoming more erratic. I can feel him hitting against my cervix, the slight pain bringing me closer to another orgasm. When I feel him start to expand, I come again, leaning forward, biting down hard on his shoulder. We’re both breathing heavy when my mouth lifts away from his skin.
“I'm sorry.” I touch where my teeth marks are imprinted into his skin.
“Don’t be. I love that I can make you lose control. That’s how I want you. That’s how you make me feel; it’s only fair that I make you feel the same.”
“You’re always in control.”
“Not with you.” His jaw clenches, his eyes looking angry.
“Is it so bad?” I ask, looking over his face.
“Not always,” he looks at the tile wall behind me. “Unless you consider locking someone away so that no one can touch them a ‘bad thing’.”
“I think they call that kidnapping.” I smile and he shakes his head, his eyes coming to mine.
“You are the one thing that scares me. Your power over me scares me.”
“You scare me, too.” I lay my head against his shoulder. He lifts me up and I feel him slide out; he kisses my hair, then let’s go of my legs so I slide down his body, and when my feet hit the floor of the shower, I take a minute to get stable. Trevor’s hands hold my face as he kisses my forehead, nose, and lips.
“You will always be safe with me.” I am not sure if he is right; I know that there will come a time when he will want more than what I can offer him. It wouldn’t be fair of me to keep him from having a family, even if it killed me that I couldn’t be the one giving it to him. “Are you off tomorrow?”
I shake my head. I can’t talk over the lump in my throat. As he takes his time washing me, he’s very gentle between my legs. Once he’s done, I step out of the shower, making sure not to look at him as I grab a towel. I put it to my face, taking a few deep breaths. “Do you work tomorrow?” I ask, as I lift my head once I know I’ve gotten myself under control.
“Yeah, I should be home early. When do you get off?”
“Well, Mom left today, and tomorrow is my last day until the day after we get home. Bambi’s going to be looking over the store while we’re gone, and November is going to help out as well.”
“Are you sure you should trust Bambi?” he asks, as we walk out of the bathroom into the bedroom.
I laugh and his eyes narrow. “Oh stop. Just because she is immune to the Mayson men’s charms, doesn’t mean she is a bad person.”
“You trust people too easily.”
“November is going to be there with her for part of the day. I need to have people I can trust with my business, or I'm going to end up never having a break.”
“I'm going to see if my mom can go over a couple of the days.”
“Trevor—uh—what’s your middle name? How do I not know this?” I bite my lip and try to remember if I have ever heard it anywhere before.
“Sorry, that’s top secret information,” he smirks, walking to the dresser; my eyes follow him as the muscles of his thighs and back stretch and expand, showing off the tribal tattoo that travels up his wrist, under his collar bone, down his chest, over his ribs, along his side, down his hip, and ending on his thigh. I love that tattoo. I want to lick it and trace it with my tongue; each step he takes makes my mouth water. When he looks over his shoulder at me, I look away, quickly pulling my towel tighter around my body. Until that second, I’ve never felt self-conscious about the way I look. Looking at him now, with not one ounce of fat on him, I'm thinking I should start to do some sit-ups, or maybe a few squats. “You keep thinking all those dirty thoughts, baby, and I'm going to be ripping your towel off and f*cking you against the wall.”
“I wasn’t having dirty thoughts. Not all of them were dirty anyways.” I mumble under my breath. I walk to my bag that is shoved under the bed, pull it out, grab a pair of panties, and slide them up under my towel. Then I find a tank top and slip that on over my head, removing the towel from under it. I bend to find a pair of shorts. I start to lift my foot to put them on, when they’re snatched out of my hand. “Hey! I'm going to wear those!” I yell, glaring at Trevor, who has my shorts balled in his fist.
“As sexy as that show was,” he says, shaking his head, “you’re in my house. I’ve finger f*cked you, eaten your *, and been inside you without a rubber. You are not going to hide your body from me.”
“You’re such a jerk,” I say, feeling my face burning bright red.
“Only because you’re not getting your way,” he shrugs, tossing my shorts on the bed, before walking out of the room. I’m reaching across the bed to grab my shorts when my ass is slapped, then I'm tossed over his bare shoulder and carried to the kitchen, where he puts me on the counter. My brain is still trying to catch up with what just happened; I can’t even form a full thought. “You want a sandwich?” he asks causally, walking over to the fridge. He starts to pull out lunchmeat and cheese; he sets them next to me before going to grab the bread. "Do you want a sandwich?" he asks again.