Trashed, p.12
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       Trashed, p.12

         Part #2 of Stripped series by Jasinda Wilder
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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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  “Look at me when you come, Des,” I order, taking one hand from her hip to tilt her chin up. She resists, burying her face deeper in my neck, so I grab a handful of hair near her scalp and tug gently but insistently as she shrieks wordlessly. “Look at me, babe, let me see those big brown eyes while you come. ”

  She brings her head up, and she can barely keep her eyes open, but she fixes them on me and her mouth is wide and her fingers dig almost painfully into my chest, and she’s grinding on me, her pussy sliding wet and slick up and down on my cock, which throbs with the need to come, but I hold it. I hold it.

  And she comes. Lifts up, almost losing my cock in the process, and then slams down. Gasps. Lifts up, hesitates, and slams down again, and this time she actually screams, a loud, rasping sound of release.

  I use that moment to flip her off me, levering her onto her back, and then guiding her onto her stomach. I settle behind her, lift her up by the hips, and she moves with me, bringing that big fine round ass of hers to face me, baring it for me, presenting it to me. I palm it, taking a second to appreciate it, and then I move to my knees, reach between her thighs to find her opening and guide my cock in. I’m throbbing painfully, aching, thick and fighting the urge to come right then. She rests on her shins and elbows, and sucks in a sharp breath as I slide fully into her in one smooth thrust.

  She lets the breath out slowly and shakily as I pull back slowly and push in even more gradually. I want to take my time with this. Make it last. Savor it. I hold her ass in both hands, caressing each cheek with my palms. I can’t hold back any longer, then. It feels too good. She pushes back against me as I thrust slowly, rhythmically. Again, and again. And now I feel the come boiling in my balls, feeling desperation welling up inside me, and I’m moving faster.

  Des is moaning too, now, and the sound of her voice, the vocal evidence of her enjoyment of this has me driving harder, deeper, and that only makes her louder, and I’m close to losing it. She stretches out her hands in front of herself, grips the sheet in both fists, and then snakes one hand between her legs.

  “Yes, Des, touch yourself. Touch your clit while I fuck you. ”

  “Are you gonna come soon?”

  “Yeah, babe, I’m close…I’m right there. ”

  I take the crook of her hips in my hands and pull her back into my thrusts, and now the room is filled with my grunts of exertion and the sound of my thighs slapping against hers, my hips and stomach smacking against her ass as my cock fills her. I feel her fingers moving, and now she’s whimpering in time with me, her hips meeting mine thrust after thrust.

  “Now, Adam, come now. I’m coming again too. Oh god, oh my fucking god…” Her voice goes hoarse and she presses her torso to the mattress, and I slide even deeper.

  “Oh fuck, Des. So good. I’m coming so hard. ” I grunt the words, bite them out, and then I can’t form words because I’m exploding and she’s pushing back hard and fast into me.

  My entire body seizes and it feels like fire pours through my veins and coalesces in my gut, shooting out of me, emptying me. Her orgasm has her shaking and growling and grinding her ass against me, and I feel the walls of her pussy clamp down around my cock, and I’m still coming, unable to control or temper the driving slam of my hips. She takes it, takes every hard crash of my body into hers, and moans in pleasure for more.

  God, she’s heaven, she’s shaped perfectly to take all I’ve got and she loves it, needs it, wants it. That’s what I feel coming from her, in that moment, and I wonder if I’ll think differently when the moment is gone, when our heat is spent.

  She falls forward and I let her, pull out and take a moment to rest before stripping the condom off and cleaning myself. When I get back to the bed, she’s lying on her back and watching me, her eyes going to the bounce and sway of my softening dick, then to my eyes.

  Neither of us speaks as I cradle her against me. She settles in easily, naturally, fitting into the sheltering nook of my arms and we are like two pieces of a puzzle fitting together.

  She falls asleep quickly, and I’m not far behind.

  * * *

  I’m panicking. God, am I panicking. Adam is up and about already, even though we were up till after one this morning and it’s barely eight. He’s ordered breakfast and he doesn’t know I’m awake.

  I don’t want to go home. I don’t want him to go back to L. A. I’m watching him through slitted eyes, and my heart squeezes. Last night he was so attentive, so gentle, so sweet. Until the end, when he started to lose it, and then he was powerful and primal, and that was honestly the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced, the way he flipped me over and positioned me the way he wanted, and just…took me.

  I wouldn’t mind letting him have his way with me more often. I would play games with him, play hard to get and make him take me. I’d push him around and take him for myself, when I wanted.

  But that won’t happen.

  He’s leaving, and in a week I’ll be headed back to Detroit for morning classes and late-night classroom cleaning. And we’ll never meet again. This is all I’ll have with him, so I’m trying to absorb it all. Soak up the hard lines and angles of his body, the heavy planes of muscles, the slabs of masculine strength. The intelligent pastel green of his eyes, the gentle power of his hands.

  The way he kisses me, like he’s trying to devour me, and drown in me, and subsume me in his essence all at once.

  The way he moves into me, slow and careful until he can’t hold back and loses control and turns into a huge hard and hungry beast, a beast that is sexy and dominant and exotic and headily addictive.

  I’m so fucking sore. Or…sore from fucking. My thighs ache, the muscles burning from exertion. My sex is what hurts the worst, though. It’s a sensation I can’t really describe, even to myself. It’s a soreness, a stretched-out feeling, a post-fullness burn…and I love it. It’s an incredible sensation.

  I’m not a virgin any longer.

  I want to squeal and kick my feet, especially when my eyes land on the extreme hotness that is Adam Trenton, shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts low on his hips. There’s the V of abdominal muscles leading down to his cock, and god, I want that again. See it. Feel it.

  Maybe even taste it.

  My heart flips and flops and my stomach goes weightless and my mind whirls. I can’t believe the past two days have been real. That I’m really here, naked, in Adam Trenton’s bed. That we just had mind-blowing sex…

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  Mind-blowing for me, at least.

  Which makes me wonder what he thinks about all this. If this is par for the course for him, or if this was as expectation-shattering for him as it was for me. I mean, I know I’ll never be the same again.

  My heart squeezes, and I force myself to keep calm, to breathe slowly and push the glut of emotions away. It was just sex. For him, and for me.

  Just sex. Don’t get attached. You know nothing about him, or he about you. He owes you nothing. You owe him nothing.

  My entire being rebels against that line of thought, though. I want it to be more. I want him to want it to be more.

  A knock at the door has me shutting my eyes and feigning sleep. Adam answers the door, speaking in low tones. The door shuts again, and I hear his weight on the steps leading up to the bedroom.

  “You can get up now, Des. ” His voice comes from beside the bed.

  I sit up slowly, bringing the sheet with me, clutching it to my chest. His eyes are all over me, tak
ing in my hair—which must be a rumpled rat’s nest—and my eyes and my shoulders. “Hey,” I say.

  He has a mug of coffee in each hand, one black, one creamed to a medium khaki color. “How do you like your coffee?”

  I grab the one with cream. “This have any sugar in it?”

  He shakes his head. “No, you want some?”

  I take it and sip. “No, thanks. This is perfect. ”

  He sits, drinks his coffee, and watches me drink and watch him. It’s a very meta moment. “Wasn’t sure what you like for breakfast, so I got a little of everything. Bagel, an omelet, French toast, scrambled eggs and bacon, some rye toast. ”

  I grin at him. “French toast and bacon. ”

  He sets his mug down on the bedside table, goes down to the foyer and picks through the metal lid-covered plates, transfers bacon from one plate to another, the toast and the omelet to a second, and carries both plates up to the bed. He arranges them on the foot of the bed, and then returns for silverware, butter, syrup, and the carafe of coffee. He settles on the bed next to me, reaches for the plate with French toast and bacon on it and hands it to me, along with a fork and knife, and then he takes his plate.

  “Dig in, babe,” he says.

  I sit cross-legged, and try to figure out a way to eat while keeping the sheet tucked under my arms. Adam watches me for a few seconds, fighting a grin.

  “What?” I ask, giving him a sideways glare.

  He shrugs, the smile ghosts across his lips, gone again immediately. “Nothing. You’re just so fucking cute it’s ridiculous. ”

  “And that means…?” I prompt.

  He shovels a bite of eggs into his mouth and speaks after he’s chewed a few times. “You’re being so modest all of a sudden. It’s just cute. ”

  I sigh. “I didn’t care when we were in the moment, but now, it’s different. I’m not…I don’t even get changed in front of Ruthie, and I’ve known her for years, and we share that shoe box of a room every summer. ”

  “Why?” he asks, as he snags his T-shirt off the floor and hands it to me.

  I put it on with a grateful smile at him.

  “Why what?” I cut my French toast into tiny squares and take a bite. I can’t help a moan of bliss from escaping as the rich flavors explode in my mouth. This is no IHOP French toast. It’s fancy gourmet food, bursting with spices and ingredients I can’t identify, but I know I’ve never had them in French toast before.

  “Good, huh?” Adam says. “Why are you so uncomfortable being naked?”

  I shrug and keep my eyes on my breakfast rather than him. “I just am. For lots of reasons. ”

  He sighs and takes several bites. I can feel him thinking, processing. “You really won’t tell me one single thing about yourself, will you?” he says eventually.

  “It’s not like that, Adam. I just…don’t see the point. ” I swipe a chunk of French toast through syrup, wash it down with coffee.

  Again he doesn’t respond immediately. “There’s no point in getting to know each other?”

  “Not really. ” I finally look up at him. He’s troubled, judging by the expression on his face. “I mean, it’s not like you’ve told me much either. ”

  Adam scrapes the last of the eggs into a pile. “What do you want to know?” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “That you can’t find with a quick Google search, I mean. ”

  I groan in frustration and set my plate aside, empty except for the bacon, which I saved for last. “Adam, god. It’s not about information. I’m sure you would tell me whatever I wanted to know. I’m not doubting that. And I’m not hiding anything. ”

  “Then tell me anything. One fucking thing. ”

  “Why?” I nibble at a slice of bacon. “What’s the point? Let’s not make this something it isn’t, Adam. ”

  He growls in irritation. “You keep saying that. ‘What this is, what this isn’t. ’ I thought we’d already gone over this. ”

  “Adam. You don’t have sex with someone you’ve known barely forty-eight hours and think it’s gonna be a match made in heaven. Especially not when you’re leaving. That’s all I mean. ” I have to push away the disappointment I feel when he doesn’t disagree. “I’ve had a great time, Adam. You’re amazing. This has been incredible. Honestly, the best two days of my life, and that’s the truth. So thank you. ”

  “So you’re going to tell me you didn’t feel…I’m not sure how to put it…a—a connection? Last night, you didn’t feel that?” His eyes bore into mine, and I’m trying desperately to deny what I see there.

  I have to protect myself. I can’t go there with him. I can’t let him know that I did feel it, that I still feel it. I can’t get attached. Can’t let my emotions out of their cage. So I lie, sort of. “I mean, maybe? I don’t know. It was incredible sex, I felt that. ” Which is true, and I hope that came out casual. It’s not as if I have anything to compare it to.

  Adam stares at me for a long moment, his eyes piercing, demanding, and open. I see his emotions. I see that he felt something, just like I did. But it still means nothing. He’s leaving, and I’ll never see him again, so what’s the point? I keep my eyes neutral. It takes every ounce of strength I possess to do so. I’ve got a lifetime of experience in burying my emotions to draw from, a lifetime of denying the pain of loneliness, the pain of a foster-father’s fists or belt, the pain of never fitting, never belonging, of never having a real home. I know how to block everything out, how to pretend I’m unaffected. I know this like I know how to breathe, because it’s what I do, what I’ve always done, what I’ll always do. So I do it. I imagine a brick wall going up, brick by brick, around my heart, around my soul, around my emotions, and I build it high, build it strong.

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  After an eternity, Adam tosses back his coffee and sets the mug down on the side table with excessive gentleness, as if to combat the urge to smash it. And then he stands up, squares his shoulders, lets out a breath, and walks with stiff precision to the balcony, closing the door behind himself.

  I stay where I am, still and silent and cold.

  But I can’t leave him like this. I can’t walk out and let him think this meant nothing to me. I can’t walk away yet, not when I can see the hurt in the slump of his shoulders as he leans his forearms on the railing of the balcony. It’s a sunny, beautiful morning, no clouds in the sky today. A gull wings past the window, cawing. Adam is utterly still, his broad back a frozen sculpture of muscle and skin. I want to go out there, run my hands over his spine, over his shoulders. I want to kiss each vertebra of his spine. I want to feel his skin, slip my hands under the elastic of his shorts. I want one more moment with him.

  My feet are carrying me out there. I’m unable to stop them, even though I know that whatever happens next, I’ll still shut down, close him out. But I can’t fight the momentum of my feet, can’t stop my hands from pulling open the sliding door. Can’t stop my palms from touching his sides.

  “Change your mind?” He doesn’t turn when he speaks.

  My lips are pressed to the wide arc of his back, between his shoulder blades. Yes, I want to answer. But I can’t lie to him. I haven’t changed my mind, and if I speak, he’ll know the truth. If he looks at me, he’ll know. So I just touch him. Explore the bulk of his chest, palms moving in slow circles. He hangs his head, as if he knows I’m avoiding his question. Perhaps he doesn’t. Of course he does. He’s so smart, so perceptive. He can read me, somehow. He takes a deep, deep breath, his chest swelling.

  The sound of a door opening alerts us that we’re not alone. The balcony we’re on is part of a shared structure. The floor extends across at least three or four rooms, each room’s balcony made into a separate area by a pair of white, wooden, seven-foot-tall partitions that is part wall and part bench. If you stand at the rail, like we are now, you can see the other room’s balcony. I hear voices, an elderly man and woman. They talk about how beautiful
it is out here, how lovely the view is. The wood beneath our feet creaks as they move toward the railing.

  Adam spins, pushes me backward, takes me by the shoulders and moves me toward the partition bench-wall. He turns me to face the wall, takes my wrists in his huge hands and presses my palms to the wood. His foot slips between mine and nudges my feet apart. His body is a mountain behind me, blocking out everything— the sun, the rippling blue of the Straits, the balcony. My heartbeat increases, begins to hammer in my ears. His hands slide up under the shirt. Touch my waist. His front presses against my back, and I can feel his heart thudding against my spine, feel his breath coming deep and fast, feel his cock thickening and rising against my ass.

  His lips touch my ear. “Don’t make a sound,” he whispers. “Don’t even breathe loud. ”

  I nod, and feel dampness coat the inner walls of my vagina, feel heat curl in my belly. His palms slide over my stomach, up, up, and cup my boobs, lifting and caressing, thumbs scraping across my nipples. The heat and pressure tighten inside me. And then one hand dips down between my thighs, the other remaining at my tits, toying with one nipple and then the other. I have to bite my lip hard to keep from gasping, from moaning as he slides not one, but two fingers into my channel.

  Those fingers, god…they drive in, smear my juices over my clit and circle and circle and circle, and I’m grinding my pussy against his touch, silently begging him to make me come. He knows, oh he knows exactly what I need, what I want, and he gives it to me. He doesn’t draw it out, doesn’t play games. He brings me to orgasm within seconds, and I taste the tangy salt of blood as I split my own lip in the effort to keep silent.

  “Oh, my. Why didn’t we come here sooner, Bob?” a shaky, elderly female voice says, mere inches away, just on the other side of the thin wooden wall. “It’s just so lovely and pleasant. ”

  “I don’t know,” the man says, his voice coming from the balcony’s edge. “But we’ll come again next year. ”

  Adam’s voice is a hot breath in my ear, barely audible. “Don’t move. ”

  And then he’s gone from behind me, and I tilt my head to watch him carefully, silently slide the door open, step through and snag the square packet of a condom from the bedside table. I hold my position and watch him, pulse pounding, climax still tremoring inside me, keeping me breathless and shaking. He leaves the door open, standing just inside. His eyes find mine, and now he’s making sure I’m watching. When he knows he has my full attention, he drops his shorts, baring his erect cock. It strains, juts high and proud. He rolls the condom down his length and takes cat-silent steps out onto the balcony, completely naked and fearless. When he’s behind me, he drags his fingers up the backs of my thighs, over my ass, lifting the T-shirt as he goes. My ass is bared, then my breasts, and then he’s guiding one of my arms out, then the other, and now I’m naked too. I shiver, not from the cold but from being nude in broad daylight, and I’m about to be fucked.

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