24. Casey #3
My palms slide against the fabric of her tank top on their way to her hips.
Unable to help myself, I squeeze her flesh, aligning her center with my growing hardness.
She gasps, arching so her breasts graze against my chest. I slide my fingertips lower, dragging them over her bare thighs and back up under the hem of her shorts.
“Say you’re mine, Trina.”
Normally when we’re in this position, I’m demanding, dominating. It’s what she’s always liked, what she’s always needed. But right now, I’m putty in her hands. I’m begging her to give me this, knowing her answer but needing to hear it anyway.
She pulls back, her eyes hooded and her lips bee-stung. Her gaze searches mine as her thumbs trace idle lines over my cheekbones.
“I’m yours, Casey.”
With an almost feral growl, I seize her lips with mine again, flipping us so she’s lying under me.
She uses the change in position to pull the hem of my shirt free of my pants, and I help her get it up over my head.
The way she drinks in my bare chest, as if she has always wanted to but never allowed herself the pleasure, has me feeling as if I could conquer the world.
I slip my hand under her shirt, exposing a strip of skin.
She shivers at my touch, arching her back into me to ask for more.
Slowly, I lift the hem of her shirt, watching as each inch of her comes into view.
She’s not wearing a bra, so when I lift the shirt over her head, her taut, pink nipples are exposed.
I take one in my mouth and the other between my fingers, teasing them into perfect peaks.
Trina writhes beneath me, moaning and gasping. “Casey,” she sighs, as if there aren’t other words she can access.
I dip my hand under the waistband of her shorts and find her clit, making a few tight circles. “This is mine too.” My voice is husky and about an octave lower than normal.
She nods, her eyes squeezed shut. “Mm-hmm. Casey, please.”
I press a kiss to her flushed collarbone. “Please what, baby?”
“Oh,” she gasps. “I—” Her teeth drag over her bottom lip as her eyes fly open and her hips wriggle, seeking her pleasure.
“Tell me what you need,” I whisper before licking her earlobe and kissing the spot right behind her ear.
“You,” she breathes, her nails scraping against my back.
With one last circle around her clit, I remove my hand so I can pull her shorts and panties off, dragging her socks along with them.
I make quick work of my own, adding the clothes to the pile.
Trina uses the separation of our bodies to walk quickly to her small bedroom, and she returns with a condom.
I sit on her sofa, running my hand over my dick, watching the way her breasts sway as she approaches me, then falls to her knees in front of me.
She tears open the condom wrapper, then slowly pulls it over me, working me with her beautiful hands a few times before rising to her feet and shifting so she’s kneeling over me.
I line myself up with her entrance, dragging myself through her wetness.
As if unable to wait any longer, she sinks down on my length, sighing when I fill her.
She rests her forehead on my shoulder for a moment before raising and lowering herself a few times. Her lips make a trail up my neck and to my mouth as she sets her pace—passionate, but not frantic. Every slide of her body over mine is exquisite. She’s beautiful, and perfect, and mine.
“This feels…different.” She pulls away to rest her forehead against mine. Our breaths mingle in the space between us.
“Good different?”
“God yes. You feel…” She grinds against me, and I have to grit my teeth to stop myself from coming right then. “Oh,” she sighs again, as if she doesn’t have the words.
“Take what you need, baby,” I tell her, reaching between us to find her clit again. “I want to feel you come.”
She captures my lips with hers again, our teeth clicking together with the force of her kiss.
Her pace on top of me becomes faster, harder.
Within a few minutes, her walls flutter around my dick.
With a moan, she comes, her body shuddering and clamping around me.
I follow, emptying myself into the condom.
When our breathing evens out, she lifts herself off me. Her gaze meets mine, and she smiles, her hazel eyes filled with adoration in a way I’ve never seen.
I don’t ever want to forget what that smile looks like.
After we both clean up, she grabs a blanket and drags it over to the sofa. We sit under it, my arm around her, her head on my shoulder.
“I don’t know if I’m ready for you to spend the night,” she says.
“That’s okay.” I run idle circles over her smooth shoulder, then kiss the top of her head. “When you’re ready. I can wait.”
She lifts her head so she can kiss me tenderly. “Thank you.” Then, she smirks. “But maybe dinner?”
My heart swells. This bold, wonderful woman is mine. I can’t wait to learn more about her, to spend more time with her. She asked about dinner, but doesn’t she know I’ll take every moment with her I can get?
“Yeah,” I say, returning her smile. “Dinner sounds great.”