Speaking of work, he has been doing all of it so far, and while it has been magnificent, it hardly seems fair. Now that I have command of my limbs again, somewhat, I reach out and stroke the hardness straining against the fabric of his pants.
He could take me right now, I think, right here where I stand; he’s that ready!
I have never felt so desired, so primally wanted. It makes me feel bolder. I begin fumbling with his belt as he unbuttons his dress shirt.
I had been right about his physique—he is in exceptionally good shape, the muscles across his torso and abdomen well-defined. His shoulders look as strong as they felt.
I help him out of his clothes, and we fall to the couch in a tangle of arms and legs, kissing deeply while our hands roam frantically over each other’s bodies.
One of his hands is on my breasts; the other is back between my legs, starting me on the upward path to ecstasy again. Only this time, I want more of him. I want all of him.
“Trent,” I pant in his ear. “I want you.”
“And I want you,” he says back, withdrawing his hand and using it to spread my thighs wide. Then he is between them, and I feel him push his way up and into me. It’s an almost unbearably good pressure that seems to keep building and building.
Finally, he is inside me fully. He pauses, maybe to savor the sensation, before he begins to move his hips, working in and out of me.
“Trent!” I gasp, wrapping my legs around his back and hugging him to me. His mouth is punishing mine, his tongue scouring. One of his hands supports his weight off me, and the other plunges into my hair.
He is so hard, I think he can’t possibly last long, and yet he does. His hips piston slowly at first, withdrawing almost to the point of him slipping free of me, and then he is sliding back into me all the way to the base of his rock-hardness.
A thousand sensations are exploding within me as he moves faster, with more urgency. All of them are nearly driving me out of my mind, and yet I want more.
“Yes!” I urge him, “Faster! Please! Don’t stop!”
He obliges, and soon he is slamming into me with full force. Each jarring impact is shoving me closer to an orgasm so strong, it promises to dwarf the previous one as Jupiter dwarfs the Earth. I am writhing beneath him, one arm locked around the back of his neck, bucking my hips back on him to meet his thrusts.
I am calling his name over and over, and then I’m just screaming incoherently as I begin to violently climax. I have never, ever come so hard in my entire life, and I put back my head and wail unabashedly at the joy and pleasure of it all.
My reaction tips him over the edge, and I feel him pulsing deep inside me. This causes another explosion to go off within me, and I arch my back against it, angling my hips so that he can go even deeper.
At last, we collapse against one another on the couch, both of us heaving for breath.
“What was that?” I whisper, more to myself than to him.
“That was—” he starts.
“If you say, ‘That was a good beginning,’ I want you to know that I’ll die if I have another orgasm right now.”
He smiles, sitting up partially and looking down at me. “I was going to say that was incredible.”
“Incredibly incredible,” I say, not in the least bothered by the foolishness of my words. I doubt if anything can touch me enough to bother me at this point.
He holds up my glass. “Drink?”
I nod weakly. “Wine, water, something, anything.” I accept the glass, noting that my hands are shaking. I’m not sure I trust myself to drink from it without spilling it all down my front.
He takes a drink from his glass, then sets it down again.
“Steph,” he says, “this isn’t why I asked you here tonight.”
“Are you sorry it happened?” I ask.
He grins. “Not even remotely.”
“So where do we go from here? What happens now?”
He points out of the room. “We go to bed; that’s where we go from here. I don’t know about you, but I can’t think of any other destination but that at the moment.”
“I still need to clean up the kitchen,” I say without any real conviction or enthusiasm. The professional in me only just manages to get the words out.
“Leave it,” he says, kissing me again. “Just leave it.”
It takes all my strength to round up my clothes from the four corners of the living room and follow him off to the bedroom, so I suppose he’s right.
We collapse into each other’s arms in his king-sized bed and are asleep barely a minute later. I have no dreams, but that’s all right—there’s no way mere dreams could compete with the reality I have just lived.
Chapter 12 - Trent
It’s been a long time since I’ve woken to “the morning after.” They had been less and less frequent as my marriage had imploded, until they had ceased altogether about a year before my ex-wife left. I haven’t dated much since that unhappy milestone, and haven’t slept with any other woman until now.
Fluorescent light is supposed to be harsh, but in my opinion, the morning daylight can be the most brutal when it comes to honestly putting someone on display, especially if that someone happens to be sleeping. All of the makeup and done-up hair and fancy clothes of the night
