Chapter Eleven
1144 Words
Chapter Eleven
“So, this is where you live.” Trent strolled into her tiny living room, hands in his pockets, bulging muscles in every damn direction.
Adalia closed the door behind them, sauntering to the kitchen to take out another bottle of wine. She’d had too much already, but she hadn’t let loose in weeks, so what the hell. What was the harm in having a little fun?
She turned back to Trent and the wine glasses fell from her hand and shattered on the floor.
He was topless in the middle of the living room. His abs rippled under the harsh lighting.
“W-what are you doing?” She placed the wine bottle on the counter behind her without looking away.
“Come here,” he said, by way of an answer. She stepped out of her shoes and tiptoed to him, a fire burning in her soul, holding vigil for what was about to happen.
She was a one-night stand to him. She couldn’t let this happen!
Adalia’s feet slowed, and she jolted to a halt.
“Now.”
They started moving again. She couldn’t resist that command and the underlying tension caused by his intense need for her.
He needed her, she could tell. She could see it in those bright blue eyes, could practically smell the pheromones in the air.
She wanted nothing more than to please him, than to make him see she was more than just another woman. A conquest to put in the memory bank for examination, but a woman who deserved more, who deserved his respect.
All of these desires, conflicting, swirling around in her brain creating a true belief that maybe, just maybe, he’d want it with her. The real thing she’d never had but dreamed about. Hell, what every girl in the world dreamed about.
“Faster. I need you.”
That phrase was her poison. Her nightshade. It would be her undoing, and she’d let him remake her in the image he wanted. But only for the night. She wasn’t weak, but she did deserve this.
Hadn’t she worked hard enough?
Moments became hours in her existence, stretching out into an eternity of him there in the living room, half n***d, mere feet from her, waiting for her to come to him. Hours of her tiptoeing, stepping so carefully, so he’d see how much this meant to her.
Then it was over. She was in front of him and he loomed above her, looking down at the top of her head, unyielding and strong.
She touched his abs and ran her hands up his chest and looped her arms around his neck, then let out a soft moan.
“You want me.”
She swallowed several times, biting her lip and staring into his eyes.
“Say it. Say you want me, Adalia.”
She gasped at the sound of her name on his lips. “I want you.”
“Good. Don’t ever forget it.”
Adalia had no words left, and she wasn’t sure she had actions either. She was glued to him, trapped in the forever of the moment with him.
He reached around and laid one hand on her a*s, gripping it with a low guttural groan of pleasure. That noise, the idea that he was this attracted to her, sent her into overdrive.
“Trent, please,” she whispered, and he looked into her eyes, searching her soul for the question she was about to ask. “Kiss me.”
He tucked that hand beneath her a*s and used his other arm to catch her back. He lifted her from the floor and carried her to the couch, then laid her on it, ever so gently, as if she was his treasure.
Trent lay down on top of her, distributing his weight evenly on either forearm, braced against her couch.
He kissed her gently, then parted her lips with his tongue and tasted her in earnest, probing and savoring her. She followed his lead, enjoying the pressure of his kiss. He pressed himself against her, grinding until she shifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, angling herself upward to rub against him.
He growled and stroked her hair while they made out, then he slid that hand down and cupped her breast, stroking it in circles.
Trent pulled back from the kiss and she grasped his neck, willing him to come back down to her.
He grinned, that same sly half-smile he’d melted her with in the restaurant then unbuttoned her blouse. She gasped and he took both of her breasts out, pressed them together and lowered his head to tickle her n*****s with the tip of his tongue.
He took both of them into his mouth simultaneously and sucked hard, pulling them upward. The wet sensation of his tongue l*****g and sucking her drove her over the edge.
“Oh God, I want you. I need you inside me,” she whispered, and he nibbled on her breasts. “Please,” she begged. “Trent, please, I have to have you now.”
“Not yet,” he said, around a mouthful of her breast. “Not until I’m done.” He forced his hand down her skirt and into her lacy hot panties, searching for her wetness. He found it, and she arched her back.
“That’s my girl,” he uttered, working her c**t with one finger, circling it at first then tapping instead.
She cried out in pleasure, moving past the present and into some other world with him, another time where they were the only ones that existed. The only ones who mattered.
“Come on, Adalia, you’re all mine, I want you to come for me.”
She gripped at his arms, his head, any bit of skin she could get at. She needed an anchor. The first waves of pleasure came in rapid succession, crashing over her, and her body convulsed against him.
“That’s it. You’re all mine,” he grunted, pressing his massive erection against her as she trembled from the intensity of her o****m.
“Trent, stop. I want you inside me now.”
“No, you’re going to come for me, Adalia.” He was insistent, and he played with her, dipping his fingers inside her and stroking her G-spot with his two fingers. The pressure built, and he used his other hand to play with her c**t. He worked them together, in a perfect rhythm. She couldn’t hold on for any longer.
“I’m going to –”
“You’re my woman.” He slowed his fingers and kissed her cheeks, then her eyelids, then the tip of her nose.
“Oh God,” she said, gasping for breath after the tremors finally abated. “Trent, that was unbelievable.”
“Don’t you worry, we’re not done yet,” he said, standing and unzipping his pants. He reached in and –
Crash!
Her front door slammed open, and DeShawn stood framed in the doorway, swaying from side-to-side in a drunken stupor.
Trent froze, rage spreading through his muscles in a visible ripple. He zipped up his tailored pants and glared at her ex-boyfriend. This was a disaster.
If DeShawn got out of hand and Trent got sick of it, there’d be a massive blowout.
“Hey, baby!” DeShawn stumbled in a few feet then noticed Trent.
“No!” Adalia yelled. “Get out of my apartment!”
“What the f**k’s going on here?”
- Writer
