Aubrey
Trent: Date night tonight?
Me: Sounds perfect.
Trent: Your perfect.
Me: Are you flirting with me?
Trent: I’m trying to. Is it working?
Me: Maybe a little.
Trent: Good. I’ll cook us dinner tonight and then we can watch a movie, your choice.
Me: Does this date end with a sleepover?
Trent: Always. You know I love it when you’re in my bed.
Me: Once I finish at the bakery I’ll go home, shower and grab something to sleep in then I’ll head over.
Trent: You can shower here. And you don’t need clothes.
Me: Oh? Very bold of you.
Trent: I meant you could wear something of mine. You know I’ve always loved how you look in my clothes.
Me: Is there an option where I end up wearing no clothes at all?
Trent: Behave baby, I’m trying to be good.
Me: But being bad is so much fun. See you soon.
Ican’t help the giddy little smile that creeps across my face as I lock my phone and slip it back into my pocket.
It’s been a few weeks since Trent and I decided to put the past behind us and give things another shot. I’m still a little cautious—maybe more than I’d like to admit—but it’s been amazing having him back in my life like this.
We don’t spend every night together, but when we do, it’s easy.
We talk, we laugh, we flirt. Half the time, I feel like I’m sixteen again.
My hearts still guarded, and I know Trent senses it, but he doesn’t push.
He just shows up, steady and patient, like he’s determined to prove this time is different.
The only thing missing? Sex.
Since we decided to try again, the most I’ve gotten is a few intense make-out sessions and some over-the-clothes touching that leaves me dizzy and aching. Every time I climb into his lap, desperate for more, he holds me still, murmuring against my neck that he wants to “do this properly.”
It’s sweet but It’s frustrating as hell. And considering how good I know Trent is in bed, it’s borderline torture.
A wicked thought slips in, curling my lips into a smirk. I wipe my hands on a towel, glancing toward the clock on the bakery wall. Yep—definitely heading home after my shift.
Because tonight, I fully intend to make Trent an offer he can’t refuse. And I’ll need my best lingerie for that.
“What’s got you smiling like that?” Lucy’s voice snaps me out of my devious little daydream.
“Nothing,” I say quickly, though the grin refuses to leave my face.
She narrows her eyes, amusement tugging at her lips. “Oh, it’s not a what, it’s a who. Should I start guessing?”
“You’re a nosy little thing,” I tease, trying and failing to sound stern.
Lucy laughs, the sound light and familiar. “What can I say? I need something to pass the time now that your brother’s off in basic training ignoring my calls.” Her smile falters, and a shadow of sadness passes over her face.
“I’m sure he’s finding it just as hard as you are,” I tell her softly. “You know that boy is obsessed with you. Basic’s probably just kicking his ass right now.”
“Yeah, I know.” She sighs, twisting the edge of her apron between her fingers. “It’s just hard. Especially when we hadn’t planned for this. I keep thinking it’s only been a few days since he left, but it’s been months now. I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet.”
Without a thought, I step forward and pull her into a hug. I’ve known this girl most of her life—watched her and Conrad go from awkward kids to inseparable soulmates—and seeing her so down lately breaks my heart.
“I hate seeing you sad, Luce,” I murmur.
“I try not to be,” she says, pulling back with a wobbly smile. “It’s just… I’m desperate to see him. He said he should know by Harvest Festival if he’ll be home for Thanksgiving, and I’m just really hoping he is.”
“I hope so too,” I say, squeezing her hand. I manage a small smile, though deep down, I’m worried too. Conrad not making it home would crush her. And honestly, it’d hit all of us hard.
The drive to Trent’s isn’t long, but by the time I park outside his house, a wave of nerves rolls through me.
What the hell am I doing? Maybe this plan of mine isn’t as foolproof as I thought.
I climb out of the car, smoothing my hands down the front of my trench coat before heading for the porch. My pulse kicks up with every step. When I reach the door, I knock lightly and try to steady my breathing.
Footsteps echo on the other side. I draw in a slow breath, then exhale just as the door opens.
Trent stands there—hair messy, eyes soft—until they drop lower. His gaze sweeps over me, and I feel every second of it.
My fingers slip to the sash at my waist. I untie it slowly, letting the coat fall open to reveal the deep purple lace lingerie I chose with this exact reaction in mind.
“Fuck,” he mutters. His eyes drag down my body, lingering on my bare skin and the sheer panels that leave very little to the imagination. A shiver runs through me—equal parts heat and adrenaline.
I’d rushed home after work, thrown myself through my “everything shower,” then torn apart my dresser to find the perfect set. The deep purple corset, matching thong, suspenders, and stockings won easily. Judging by Trent’s expression, I made the right choice.
“You going to let me in or what?” I purr, tilting my head.
He swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing, before stepping aside to open the door wider.
I step past him on unsteady legs, the click of my heels loud in the silence. The door closes behind me with a quiet thud, and I shrug the trench coat off completely, letting it fall to the floor.
As I walk into the living room, I glance back over my shoulder. Trent stands frozen in the doorway, biting his knuckle as his gaze drags down my body, landing squarely on the slow sway of my hips.
When I turn around, he’s already there—closer than I expected. His eyes are darker now, heavy with heat, the kind that feels almost predatory. The sight of it sends a pulse of warmth spiraling low in my stomach.
“What do you think?” I ask, my voice soft and teasing. I give him a slow turn, just to torture him a little more.
“I think you’re trying to kill me,” he says, his voice rough as he rubs a hand over the stubble along his jaw.
He takes a step toward me. Then another.
Instinctively, I retreat until my back meets the wall behind me. My breath catching.
Trent stops just inches away, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his body. He braces his hands on either side of my head, his gaze roaming over me slowly, reverently, like he’s memorizing every detail.
“There are so many things I want to do to you,”
“Please,” I whisper, my voice thick with desire. “Do them… do all of them.” I beg, my words burning with need.
Trent’s breath catches. “I’m trying to be good,” he says roughly, his eyes darkening. “Trying to take this slow.”
“I don’t want slow,” I breathe, desperation breaking through. “I want you to touch me. I want you so fucking bad, Trent, I ache.”
My hands trail down his chest, the muscles tightening beneath my fingertips. I don’t stop until I reach the very impressive bulge straining against his jeans.
I press my palm against him, rubbing my hand up and down, feeling him twitch beneath my touch. His hips jerking forward in response as he chases the friction
“Fuck, pretty girl,” he groans, his voice low and wrecked. “You’re gonna make me come in my pants before we even get started if you keep doing that.”
Suddenly, Trent catches both my wrists in one firm grip, pinning them above my head against the wall. His body presses close, heat radiating between us as his free hand trails down my side, teasing every inch it touches.
“Do you want control tonight,” he asks, “or do you want me to take it?”
“I want you in control,” I whimper, the words trembling out as his hand cups my breast. His thumb brushes over my aching nipple, sending a shiver through me.
His eyes darken, a smirk creeping across his face. “I’m going to have a lot of fun playing with this body.” He leans in, lips brushing my ear. “But the rules are still the same as always, pretty girl—you don’t get to come until I say so. Understand?”
“Yes,” I gasp as he pinches my nipple through the lace, pleasure and need surging through me. When he moves to the other one, giving it the same attention, my body arches toward him, desperate for more.
“So fucking responsive when I play with these pretty tits,” he murmurs, releasing my wrists. His fingers make quick work of the corset, loosening it until it slips away, leaving my upper body bare to him.
“Beautiful,” he breathes, his gaze devouring me as his hands return to my breasts—palms cupping, thumbs circling, alternating between soft brushes and sharp pinches that make me cry out all over again.
Trent leans in, his lips tracing a deliberate path down my neck.
He catches my pulse point in his mouth, sucking softly, and a low moan escapes me before I can stop it.
His hips press into mine, flexing against my thigh, and heat coils through me.
His lips don’t stop—brushing along my jaw, grazing my skin with teasing patience—until they finally find mine.
The kiss is greedy, consuming, a hunger that leaves me breathless.
I melt against him, fingers tangling in his hair as I pull him closer, needing every inch of him. One hand slides down his back, the other grazing the curve of his side, and I shiver when his fingertips tease along my bare skin as his hand moves lower.
He slips his hand beneath the waistband of my thong, fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path that makes my breath catch. His lips stay on mine, sucking and nipping at my tongue, and a jolt of heat races through me as his fingertip grazes my clit.
I gasp, arching into him, desperate.
“Mmm,” he hums against my mouth, dipping lower as his fingers circle my entrance, slick with need. “Who are you dripping for, baby?”
“You,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “Always you.”
A slow, dangerous smile curves his lips. “I’m going to fuck this perfect pussy with my fingers,” he says, voice low and commanding, “and you’re not going to make a sound. One sound—and I stop. Understand?”
“Yes,” I choke out, my body already trembling.
His fingers tease me, relentless and precise, and I moan against his mouth—but the sound is abruptly cut off as he slaps my pussy. My body shivers at the sting.
“Failing already, pretty girl? I thought you wanted this,” he taunts, eyes dark with lust.
“I do! Fuck… I do,” I gasp, biting my lip to hold back the moans that want to escape.
“So… what are you going to do?” His fingers rub tight circles against my aching bud, pushing me closer to the edge.
“I… I’m not going to make a sound,” I manage to whisper, trembling, heat pooling so deep it burns.
He slowly pushes two thick fingers inside me, filling me completely.
My back arches instinctively, my head falling against the wall as pleasure crashes through me in sharp, electric waves.
My body melts into him, every nerve alive, every muscle surrendering, as I grind against his fingers, desperately chasing a release I know I won’t get without his command.
“Look at you,” Trent growls, his fingers curling inside me, finding that spot only he knows. “So fucking desperate… so needy.”
My body tenses, my core clenching around him as I dig my hands into his shirt, gripping it tight, trying—and failing—to stay silent.
“Fuck,” he groans, shifting slightly. “Your pussy is holding my fingers hostage… sucking them in deeper. I can barely move.” His thumb circles over my clit with precise, maddening strokes, while his fingers hit that spot inside me again and again.
“You’re so close,” he teases, “I can feel you pulsing against my fingers. But you only come when I say. Isn’t that right, pretty girl?”
I nod frantically, teetering on the edge, desperate to hold back, to wait for his permission.
“Ask me,” he commands, eyes dark with desire.
“Please… please can I come?” I whimper, my voice trembling with need.
His grin is wicked, and heat pulses through me at the sight. “Fuck… hearing that makes me so hard. Come, baby. Soak my hand.”
The words are permission, and I can’t hold back any longer. My mouth opens, releasing the scream I’d been holding in as Trent works me faster. My body shatters over the edge, face falling forward, white blurring my vision. Wave after wave crashes over me, leaving me trembling and spent.