by Eva Ashwood
“You made a mess, Holloway,” I say roughly. “A big, wet mess.”
Her chest heaves, and as the haze of the orgasm clears, I see her brown eyes sharpen again. I don’t know what got into her tonight, what brought this on, but it’s clear nothing about this is a clean slate.
Our entire fucked up past is in the room with us right now, breathing down our necks, infecting everything we do.
“You made a mess, Cooper,” she shoots back, arching a brow. “What are you gonna do about it?”
“What do you want me to do?” I drawl, letting my gaze flick down to her leaking pussy. “Clean it up?”
Her pupils dilate, but she tosses her soft blonde hair over her head with a chuckle.
“No. I think I’d rather you get dirty too.”
15
Emma
Trent’s gaze snaps back up to my face, and I like what I see there. Lust, intense curiosity… and surprise.
He wasn’t expecting this from me. Wasn’t expecting me to be so bold. To be honest, I’m surprising myself a little here. I’m not shy about sex, but I’m not crazy experienced, and I’ve never been this responsive before. I came so hard on Trent’s fingers that I almost blacked out, and even though I’ve just had two mind-blowing orgasms, I’m already hungry for more.
I don’t know quite what it is, but it’s like when Trent and I come together like this, every emotion between us turns into lust. It all gets channeled through that singular filter—and there are so many emotions crashing around between us that when they all convert to lust, the reaction is explosive.
“What do you have in mind?” Trent asks, his voice low and hoarse. He sounds like he’s been in the desert for a hundred days without a drop to drink, and a shiver runs down my spine when I realize that he wants to drink me.
But there’s a purpose behind this whole thing, and although Trent momentarily distracted me, I can’t let myself forget what it is. So I give him a sultry smile and push against his chest, making him take a step back from me.
“You’ve got some pretty talented hands there, Cooper,” I murmur, still trying to get my breath back. “I want to see you use them again.”
He cocks his head, a smile beginning to tilt his lips.
“On yourself,” I add.
That stops him. I’m sure he was imagining all kinds of dirty things he could to do me, but I’ve thrown him for a loop with my request.
“You made a mess of me. Now I want you to make a mess of yourself.” I push against his chest again, making sure he ends up right in front of the camera on my laptop. I’ll have to edit myself out later. “Touch yourself, Trent. I want to watch you jerk yourself off while you watch me strip. I want to see your cum spill all over your hand, your stomach. I want to see how big of a mess you make.”
His pupils are dilating, his breath coming faster. Mine is too, although I hate to admit it. I need to set him up so the camera catches just him in the act of masturbating, but the words I just spoke sent a new spike of arousal shooting through me.
“You’re a dirty fucking girl, Ems,” he murmurs, pulling me toward him and going in for a kiss.
But I squirm out of his grasp, padding over to the bed and crawling up onto the mattress, leaving him horny and wanting. He looks for a second like he might disregard my request, follow me to the bed, throw me down on it, and fuck me until neither of us can move.
He’s clearly curious to see how this plays out though, so he stays right where he is. Good.
“Clothes off, Trent,” I say, and to help him along, I start dragging the fabric of the negligee slowly up my body. His nostrils flare, and he yanks his shirt off, baring his muscled, toned chest and abs. I almost lose track of what I’m doing as the sight of him entrances me. I haven’t seen him shirtless since high school, and holy fuck, he’s grown up a lot since then. There’s a little trail of hair that starts just under his belly button and disappears into the waistband of his jeans, and he’s got a perfectly cut V at the sides of his hips.
Jesus. He’s gorgeous.
He grins, as if he can read every lustful thought in my mind, and gets to work shoving off his pants and shoes. He’s clearly got no hang-ups about his body, and why would he? It’s the kind of body made for licking all over. His thighs are strong and muscled, his waist is narrow, and his cock juts out from his body, hard and thick and leaking precum.
God, I want him.
Shoving down that thought, and the rush of warmth that accompanies it, I grab the bottom of my negligee and slide it slowly off my body. When cool air hits my bare breasts, my already peaked nipples tighten even more. Trent groans, and I look at him, biting my lip.
“You like what you see?”
“Fuck, Emma.”
He sounds truly tortured, and the thrill of satisfaction I get from that is so strong that I can feel even more arousal leaking from my soaked pussy. My panties are absolutely wrecked, wet and slighted twisted on my body from Trent’s rough ministrations earlier. So I get rid of them.
As I shove them down my legs and lift my knees one by one to slide them off, Trent’s hand goes to his cock, as if he can’t fucking help himself. He strokes slow and hard, as if he’s fighting against the urge to make himself come right this second. Trying to make this last.
The sight of his fist working up and down his thick, hard length makes me burn for him, and I shock the hell out of myself by sliding a hand down my stomach and over the mound of my pubic bone. I’ve touched myself before, but never in front of another person. It always felt like something so intimate, more intimate than sex in a way.
Trent’s gaze locks onto my hand, and when I slide my fingers between my wet folds, he lets out a choked grunt, picking up the pace as he jerks himself off harder and faster.
My slick fingertips find my sensitive clit, and I begin to work circles around the hard bud as I watch Trent standing before me. My desk is set up next to my bed, so the camera has a perfect view of him as he works himself almost angrily, low, gruff noises spilling from his mouth as his abs flex and his thighs bunch.
I can’t look away. I can’t tear my gaze from the raw masculinity before me. I find myself extremely jealous of his hand as it works up and down his shaft. I want it to be my hand. I want it to be my pussy.
As if reading my thoughts again, Trent murmurs roughly, “Fuck, I can’t stop thinking about being inside you. How tight and wet you’d be around me. How hard you’d grip me. I’d fuck you until you screamed my name, baby.”
I’m panting, unable to catch my breath. I’m still kneeling on the bed, it’s not enough anymore. I want to let him see everything.
My heart thunders in my chest as I slowly drop down onto my back on the mattress, bending my knees and planting my feet, letting my legs fall open as I slip a finger inside myself, working my tight channel before returning to my clit.
“Oh, God. You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” Trent chuckles, and I can hear the wet sucking sound of skin against skin as his hand flies over his cock, which looks even thicker and harder, the skin growing a little darker.
It looks angry.
Pissed off.
Like it’s mad as hell, and it needs something to take out all that rage on.
Oh, fuck. Why do I want so badly for that someone to be me?
“I’m not… trying to kill anyone,” I gasp out, my voice a low stutter as I feel tingles of pleasure start to shoot through my entire body.
“Bullshit.” His face is a mask of concentration and desire. “Your body is a killer. Your face is a killer. Your fierce fucking spirit is the worst of all. You were made to bring men to their knees.”
“Am I going to put you on your knees, Trent?” I breathe.
“Not if I get you there first.”
He’s close. He’s so fucking close. I can see it in the way the muscles of his forearms tighten, the way his breathing hitches on every exhale. He’s about to come.
“On your knees,” he grunts. “Get up on your hands a
Oh, God. Now I’m about to come. I’ve never had a guy talk dirty to me like this before, and I can’t believe how much his filthy words turn me on.
I don’t even hesitate. Like I’m a puppet and he controls the strings, I go up onto all fours, turning my back to him so he gets a perfect view of my ass and my dripping pussy as I lift one hand off the bed and continue to play with my clit.
“There it is. So fucking gorgeous. So fucking perfect.” The words are almost like a prayer, and the final syllable ends in a choked grunt.
I crane my neck, peering over my shoulder to watch him come. There’s nothing in the world that could make me miss the sight of this.
The tempo of his hand picks up until it’s a blur of motion, and suddenly, his thighs clench hard, his stomach muscles contracting. I can see his balls pull up tight to his body, and then ropes of cum spurt from his cock, coating his hand and dripping back down his shaft as he pumps a few more times.
The image of him coming undone like that, knowing that he’s watching me while he does, pushes me over the edge of my third orgasm. My hips buck against my hand as I cry out brokenly, sensation tearing through me like a tidal wave. The arm bracing me up goes weak, and I collapse against the mattress face down, my ass still raised in the air, fingers still touching my clit as aftershocks quake through me.
“Fuck,” I whimper. “Fuck.”
“Fuck?”
Trent’s voice behind me is strained, and before I can turn around to look at him, I feel the mattress shift as he joins me on the bed. A second later, rough, calloused hands are all over my ass and thighs, squeezing and massaging the flesh as Trent breathes like he just ran a marathon.
“You said ‘fuck’, Holloway? Is that what you want?”
I feel a slick hardness against my ass cheek, and heat rushes through me.
Shit. He’s still completely hard. He’s so turned on by this—by me—that he hasn’t softened at all.
“Yes.” The word is a breathy whisper. It’s all I want. It’s what I’ve wanted since the second he stepped into this room. Since long before that, if I’m honest with myself.
He doesn’t ask again. He doesn’t hesitate. His cock bumps against me again, slipping into the tight entrance of my pussy, and then he rams inside.
He fills me completely in one stroke, and I scream—a full throated scream that comes from the very bottom of my soul. He’s big, so fucking big, and I’m so tight around him that I swear I can feel every ridge and vein of his cock. If I wasn’t so fucking wet, it might’ve hurt. But as it is, I just feel completely full, overwhelmed and dominated by the man behind me.
He stills, his hips pressed against my ass, as if now that he’s finally inside me, he can’t bear to leave. I wriggle against him, desperate for friction, for movement.
“Trent, please.”
A stinging slap to my ass makes me yelp, and my sensitive clit throbs as my pussy clenches hard around him. I almost just came again, my body so strung out on pleasure that it’s hovering at the edge, hanging on by the thinnest of threads.
“Uh uh, Ems. You’re done being in charge here. I played the little game you wanted. You got to see me make a mess all over myself. You got to see what the sight of your tight little pussy does to me. But that game is done now. And I make the rules of this one.”
As he finishes speaking, he draws out slowly. I can feel our combined juices spilling out of me, his cum and my cream leaking down my leg, and I bump back against him, wanting him to go faster and harder.
Another slap lands on my other cheek, the bite of pain and then the flush of heat in the skin making my clit spasm hard. Shit. If he keeps this up, I’ll come before he even gets around to fucking me properly.
I tell him so in a muffled voice, and he makes a tortured noise in the back of his throat, massaging the sting away with a surprisingly gentle touch before both his hands grab my hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh hard.
“Goddammit. Why are you so fucking perfect, Emma? Why did you have to be so perfect for me?”
His tone is low, and I press up onto my hands again, peering over my shoulder to look at him. He’s gazing back at me, and his expression looks soft, almost… sad. Regretful.
“I dunno,” I murmur, my filter completely gone, destroyed by the feel of his hands on me and his cock spearing me. “Why do you have to be so perfect for me?”
“Do you think I am perfect?” The softness fades from his eyes, and he grabs my hips even harder, pulling out before driving back in, making me rock on my hands and knees. “Do you think this is perfect?”
“Yes!” I blurt out as he does it again, harder and deeper than the first time. “Yes. God, yes!”
A string of curses falls from his lips, and he begins to piston his hips with brutal force, fucking me so hard I can feel my ass jiggling every time he slams into me. It walks the line between pleasure and pain, and I never knew I would like that either—but it makes sense for us. Our relationship walks the line between hate and love, and the whole mess of emotions feeds into this moment, pushing the pain into pleasure. Just pleasure.
I’m gasping and grunting, making inarticulate noises and half-formed sentences, begging him not to stop, daring him to go harder, telling him this is what he gets. I don’t know who’s being punished here, him or me.
Or maybe we’re both being absolved.
Another orgasm is building inside me, and I really think this one might kill me. My body is already so worn out, so beaten up by pleasure, that I don’t know if I can survive another onslaught.
Trent is close again too, I can feel it in the way his breath changes and the way his strokes grow more uneven and staccato.
But before he tips over the edge, he stops.
Then he pulls out of me entirely and flips me over onto my back, settling between my legs immediately. He drapes himself over my body, sliding into me again, and my legs wrap around him without thought, bringing him even closer, pinning him to my body.
“I have to see you. I have to see your face,” he murmurs, and the emotion burning in his gray-blue eyes is so intense that I want to look away. But I can’t.
We stare at each other, falling into each other, as he resumes thrusting. But this time, the strokes aren’t violent or desperate. They’re smooth and even, and our bodies rock together as if we’re one.
“You’re beautiful, Ems,” he whispers. “I wasn’t lying. You’re perfect.”
Inexplicable tears burn my eyes, and I blink them away. I wish I could rip my gaze from his, because I feel too vulnerable and exposed like this. Like he’ll see too much. Learn too much.
He’ll realize the truth.
But Trent doesn’t let me look away or hide my face. He watches me intently, his gaze scanning every inch of my expression, as if he thinks I might be lying, as if he’s trying to spot the part of me that’s faking this.
But it doesn’t exist.
No part of this is fake.
No matter what this started out as, this moment is wholly real.
Maybe he realizes that at the same time I do, because he lets out a groan, thrusting a little harder as desperation and desire finally overcome the last of his restraint.
“I’m gonna come inside you, Emma,” he murmurs roughly. “I’m gonna fill you up.”
I nod, wrapping my arms around him as my breath starts to come faster. Then he drops his head to kiss me as he begins to thrust hard and deep, seeming to hit a new spot inside me every time. His lips and tongue slide against mine, devouring me, consuming me.
And I come. Again.
I clench so hard around him that it’s like my body is trying to keep him, to bind us together forever, and at the feel of my walls rippling around him, Trent comes too.
He chokes out a low noise, slamming into me once more as his cock jerks and pulses, bathing my insides with his hot cum.
When we finally start to come down from the height of pleasure, he pulls out of me, collapsing to the bed beside me and gathering me roughly into his arms.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “I’m dead.”
I blink, awareness of what just happened flooding through me as if I just woke up from a dream to discover it was all real.
What the hell did we just do?
16
Emma
Holy shit. That wasn’t what I planned.
At all.
As I lie in Trent’s arms, I feel boneless, incredibly exhausted, and oddly content. I was only supposed to tease him, get him to take his clothes off, and then use the footage to humiliate him. And, I mean, I did do that. The camera didn’t pick up any of what happened against the door or on the bed, but when I made him jerk off in front of me, it was in perfect view of the laptop.
I didn’t expect to be so turned on by watching him do that. It was hot as fuck, pornographic and raw and… real. The way he watched me the whole time. The look in his eyes.
And then, what happened after.
I don’t know how to describe what that was. I don’t know how to think about it. When he slammed me up against the door and made me come so hard I almost blacked out—that was a hate fuck, on both of our parts. I let myself go, I allowed myself to feel, because alongside the incredible sensations was a reassuring fortress of hate.
But when he crawled up onto the bed with me, still hard after coming all over his hand... what was that?
It wasn’t exactly gentle. But was it hate?
I didn’t feel any.
And that scares the shit out of me.
I knew what I was doing when I invited Trent over tonight. And I got what I wanted. But I didn’t know we were going to go that far. And I wish I could say I regret it, but right now, I don’t. That was one of the most incredible experiences of my life.
“So…” Trent’s low voice sounds unnervingly close to how I feel. Sated, happy, and fucking stunned.
“Yeah.”
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