Trashed / Page 32

Page 32


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The scars are all on her back and legs, angled in such a way as to suggest that whatever was striking her to create the scars was coming from above, and she was turtled to protect herself from it.

I can’t help tracing the text on her thigh, the ridged tissue beneath the ink, and she stirs, blinks, sees where my fingers touch, and I feel her tense.

Her eyes go wide, the rest of her expression carefully blank. “Adam, I—the tattoos are—”

I touch her lips with a finger, stopping her. “Des, I told you I wouldn’t ask. I’m not asking. All I’m going to say is, I would be honored to know more about you. If you feel like sharing, I will listen and I promise you I won’t judge.”

She blinks hard. “Fuck. Adam, it’s not that simple. I can’t just…share. It’s nothing like that. It’s too much to…even know where to start.” She sits up, holds the sheet against her chest, and I feel her withdrawing emotionally. “And besides, you’re leaving…what, tomorrow? Monday?”

I sigh. “Tomorrow.”

She glances at the clock, which reads 12:15 a.m. “And guess what? It’s tomorrow. So there’s no point in getting into it.”

I nod, although something in me rebels against the idea of just letting this go so easily. “I get it.”

“And it’s not like you’ve told me much about yourself either. That’s not what this was, Adam. It’s not what it’s ever going to be. I know that. I’m fine with that.” She scoots toward the edge of the bed. “I should go.”

I grab her wrist, stop her. “Don’t leave. Just stay here for tonight.”

She neither pulls away nor returns. “Why?”

I release her wrist and slide my palm up her forearm, crawling across the bed toward her, and then bring my hand from her bicep to her shoulder to the back of her neck. “Because I’m not done with you.”

She leans toward me, by accident maybe, automatically. “You’re not?”

I kiss the base of her neck, bury my fingers in her thick black hair and tug her head back to bare her throat, kissing her there. “Nope. I haven’t had my fill of you yet.”

What I don’t say is that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to get my fill. I trail a line of small feathery kisses up her throat until I reach her chin, and then her mouth, and then I’ve got her tongue between my teeth and my palm on her inner thigh, reaching in and around. She gasps into my mouth as I find her wetness and heat with my fingers. Another gasp, and then her hand skates across my stomach and finds my cock.

Her eyes flick open, and I see her gaze flit around the room, seeing the extra condom I tossed onto the bedside table. She pushes me down to the mattress, slides astride me and reaches for the square packet. She rips it open with her fingers, pulls free the circle, tosses the empty packet aside. Sitting on my thighs, she toys with the condom, rolling it one way and then the other until she determines which way it opens. Taking my cock in one hand, she fits the circle around the tip and rolls it down one-handed, then uses her other hand to push it down the rest of the way.

I rest my hands on her hips, deciding to let her do what she wants, for now. She leans forward, and her tits slide across my chest, soft and warm against my skin, and her weight presses me down against the mattress. Her lips touch my shoulder, my chin, my jaw, the corner of my mouth, and then we’re kissing and my breath is gone. Her kiss is sweet, slow and deep. One hand supports her weight, a palm in the mattress beside my ribs, another smoothing over my chest as we kiss. She inches forward a bit more, and her free hand sneaks between our bodies. She doesn’t break the kiss as she guides my cock to her entrance, no, she deepens it, opening her mouth to mine and demanding my tongue. I feel her labia part and accept the head of my cock, and then she pauses. Breaks the kiss, sighing quietly, and then her forehead touches my chest and she’s watching our bodies join as she flexes her hips downward, taking me deeper oh so slowly, centimeter by centimeter, and with each increment she takes short shallow breaths in and out, and she’s watching, watching my cock enter her.

“I don’t know how you fit, but you do,” she whispers.

“Does it hurt?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No. Well, yeah, a little, but it’s good. Oh god, yeah, it’s good.” She’s fully impaled on me now, her ass nestled against my hips.

Both of her hands go to my chest, supporting her weight on me, and I use my own hands to caress her lush tan skin everywhere I can reach, hips, thighs, ass, back, and then I cup her heavy tits as they sway above me, and she gasps when my fingers find her nipples and pinch and roll and twist. She rolls her hips, keeping me deep. Slow, driving, grinding sweeps of her hips, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide and fraught on mine, her hair a thick black curtain over one shoulder.

Her head hangs, then, and she finally lifts up off me, and her teeth catch at the corner of her lower lip. God, I love that, the way she bites that one corner of her lip, like she wants to say something but is too overwhelmed to form words. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, her pussy is tight, so tight, so incredibly tight, squeezing me like a vise, so hot and slick and perfect that I can’t take it, can only growl and groan as she plunges her hips down now and I’m pushed deep inside her and we both cry out loud.

“Shit, Adam. Jesus, it feels so good.”

“Des. Don’t stop. Let me feel you come, just like this.”

She’s finding a rhythm now, rising and sinking, and I’m tensed and tautened, holding it back. I’m not close yet, but I can feel it rising and she’s just now finding her rhythm, gasping with each plunge downward. And now she’s moving a little faster, and I’m gritting my teeth and moving with her, thrusting up as she sinks down on me, and I can’t look away from her. Her tits are bouncing and swaying, her nipples hard and thick, and her hips are soft and generously padded with sweet silky flesh, and her ass is slapping against me and her lips are stuttering across mine, sloppy kisses exchanged as she begins to lose control.

I hold back, because I want to watch her come apart, want to see every expression, read every emotion, glean whatever I can from the way she comes for me.

“Adam, oh my god, Adam, I’m coming!” She frantic now, her face pressed into the crook of my shoulder, her fingers clawed into my pectoral muscle, and her hips are driving relentlessly, hard and fast and wild. “Oh god! Oh fuck, oh…”


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