His words send starlight cascading around my body, bright and wonderful, and yet there’s a tinge of darkness beneath the light.
What about Angie?
I want to ask, but I also don’t want to ask.
It’s the last thing I want to do because it will shatter this moment irrevocably. It will tear it to pieces and I’ll be left wondering what could’ve been between us…
Even if I know nothing can ever happen between us.
“Let me take you somewhere,” he growls, inching closer. “Just for a little while. I need to taste you, Tessa. I’m going crazy just thinking about it.”
No, no, no, part of me screams, the reasonable part, the piece of me that held Angie when she wept over her mother’s death, that was there for her through every up and down during high school and after.
But my body won’t let me be honorable.
My body screams louder than the voice of reason, singing yes, yes, yes, singing that this is the moment I’ve been waiting my entire life for.
“Okay,” I whisper. “But only for a little while. And I’m not ready… for that, you know, not yet.”
He smirks. “Don’t worry, Snapshot. I can wait… for a little while, at least.”
“I didn’t even know this place existed,” I say when he pulls up outside a cabin in the middle of the forest.
It sits raised from the forest floor on blocks, a sturdy-looking building made of wooden boards slotted together. It looks rustic and homey and inviting.
“It was my father’s,” Trent says. “When I decided to retire, I hired somebody to restore it. It was rundown before that. It didn’t feel right, returning to Youngstone knowing Dad’s old cabin was in such a state.”
He steps from the car and walks around to my side, opening my door with a captivating smirk on his face.
“After you, m’lady.”
I can’t help but giggle, despite the strangeness of this, despite how wrong this should feel. “What a gentleman.”
I climb from the car and we walk toward the cabin.
Trent walks close to me, his hand on the small of my back, his touch burning through my tank top and causing heat to whirl around my body. My belly tingles and my stomach tightens, as though gathering up energy, getting ready for an explosion.
“You like that,” he snarls, his lips suddenly close to my ear, his warm breath washing over me.
“Yes.” I sigh. “Oh, God, it feels so good.”
“You’re going to shiver for me soon,” he snarls, sliding his hand down and palming my ass. “You’re going to come all over my fucking mouth, come hard.”
I open my mouth to say something, anything, but then I realize I can’t. My throat closes with nervousness and need and a thousand other whirling emotions, all of them colliding together with the force of a crashing meteor.
He opens the door, revealing a homey log cabin, with an unlit fireplace and plush rugs. Sunlight glows through the closed curtains, tinged oak-brown.
Trent guides me firmly through the cabin toward a room at the back, throwing it open like he can hardly wait to get me inside. The bed is large and the sheets have antler patterns on them.
“Fuck,” Trent growls, closing the door behind us. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to do this ever since the diner.”
“Do what…”
I trail off with a gasp as he slides his hand up the back of my leg, tickling my thigh as he brings the heel of his palm against my sex and rubs it firmly.
I shudder and collapse against the wall, clawing at it as he rubs me faster, harder, with more possession in each movement.
“Ah, ah,” I cry. “Oh, God…”
He stands behind me and I twist around so I can take in the sight of him. He leans down to touch me, his massive body aimed toward me like I’m the only thing that exists for him at this moment. His silver hair is shiny with sweat.
“Keep moving like that,” he growls. “You look so damn sexy right now.”
“Like this?” I cry, barely even aware of what I’m doing.
I twitch at the end of his hand, as though he has me pinned, as though he’s attacking me and I’m trying to get away.
But I’m not trying to get away.
I’d never try to escape him.
I sink into the moment, shivering.
“That’s it. Show me how bad you want to fucking cream for me.”
Anxiety tries to invade this moment, that inner voice that tells me I’m making a fool of myself, but it’s buried far beneath the pulsating lust.
My lips tingle and my clit burns as he grinds the denim against my sex, harder with each moment until all I can focus on – all I can feel – is the pressure building inside of me.
I try to bite down on the scream when it finally explodes.
Nervousness and shame – a swirling whirlpool of it – try to tell me I shouldn’t be so loud in my pleasure.
But the scream escapes nonetheless, bursting out of me as the orgasm grips me half in heavenly hands.
I vibrate against him, bucking my lips, grinding up and down as he rubs me with even more animal ferocity.
“Fuck, you’re twerking on my hand,” he growls. “That’s it. Come for me, Snapshot. Come like the obedient virgin you are.”
My lips tingle with impossible friction, swirling up and down my sex, my lips pulsing.
Even in the midst of the orgasm, buried in the center of the pleasure, part of me struggles to believe this is really happening.
But that part of me is distant.
Closer, more real, is the sensation of his hand against my pussy, crushing my lips with his dominating touch.
I buck faster and harder as orgiastic pulsations move through me until finally, all I can do is collapse against the wall.
He wraps his arms around me, one hand gliding under my tank top and bra, squeezing softly. My nipples tingle and harden.
“What should I do?” I ask.
He chuckles softly. “You’re doing it. Just keep being sexy
