by Carrie Lomax
She flicked the first button open, then the another. Trent didn’t take his eyes off her as the fabric gaped. Janelle tossed her hair over her shoulder and let the shirt fall a few inches.
“Janie.” He spoke with coiled intensity, like a tightly leashed attack dog. “What are we doing?”
“Do you like watching me?” she asked, her voice an unintended purr. Okay, maybe her judgment wasn’t a hundred percent, but it wasn’t because of alcohol. She’d never been so turned on. Ever. Lust was a lot more potent than booze.
“I love it. I’d like touching you more.” Trent’s voice had dropped to a growl. It resonated within her body, even though she was pacing at the end of the bed and he was still where he’d been, at the head.
“I can’t let that happen,” she whispered, though her fingers disobeyed and set another button free.
“Why not, Janie?” Trent’s voice sounded as desperate and confused as she felt.
She was being such an asshole, teasing him like this. Taking pleasure in it was horrible, it made her an awful person, but she nonetheless slipped her tortured feet into the fuck-me heels she’d kicked off and continued her slow strip tease along the foot of the bed.
Trent consumed her with his gaze. Janelle wanted to be dessert. She was on fire.
“Because I’m a good girl, Trent,” she whispered. A taunt. Another button set free and she was exposed to the sternum. Janelle turned her back and slowly unzipped her skirt.
“From here, Janie, you look like you want to be a little bad. What does it mean to you? Being good?”
Janelle shimmied her skirt over her hips before responding. The hem of Trent’s shirt covered her ass, but she hiked it up to give him a good view of her thong while she shoved her skirt down to her ankles and stepped out. Being good meant approximately anything other than what she was doing right now.
But being good didn’t feel half as right as being bad.
“It means I play by the rules. I don’t cheat, and I don’t sleep with men who are in relationships with other people.” Janelle licked her lips, thinking of Crystal and Barry, and wondering about Trent and Penny. She couldn’t get a bead on their relationship. If Penny was disabled, they couldn’t be seeing one another, could they? Yet Trent didn’t act like he and his ex were completely over. Who went six years without a new partner?
You would.
“Being a good girl means sex is never meaningless to me, Trent. If I were capable of having sex without getting attached, I’d have done it by now.” Janelle peeked over her shoulder, her heart fluttering in her throat.
Trent swallowed. She could see the way his throat moved. Janelle turned and let her skirt fall. He peeled off the bed like an advertisement for Pilates, vertebrae by vertebrae. He beckoned with lifted arms, and Janelle tumbled into them. Their mouths met, clumsy with need and unfamiliar terrain. Trent helped her get the rest of his shirt off, her touch sure but fumbling over the buttons. Before he’d freed his wrists, her hands slid up his chest. Warm muscles bunched beneath her touch. Liquid heat pooled in her abdomen. Janie gasped and ground her hips forcefully against his. Trent was hard, and huge.
Just get it over with. Stop living in the past and start making new memories to replace the old. Forget Ben, so pale and skinny and young compared to Trent’s masculine worldliness.
She’d been so mad at her sister for once suggesting that she and Ben had been too young to be a serious couple. Here, away from everything familiar, it was easier to concede the point. The thought was gone as Trent rolled her onto her back and kissed her hard. Janelle opened, giving him everything, no longer wanting to be good. No longer wanting anything but him.
* * *
His trousers chafed as all the blood rushed to his cock in a primal response. The only thing holding him back was Trent’s sudden terror that he’d hurt her if he unleashed the full intensity of his libido.
Penny liked it when you let go. Trent shook away the intrusive thought. That was Penny. Janelle’s body was a new experience, one he intended to savor, if he could manage it. The impulse to get inside her, right now, was overwhelming, but he held the line. Barely.
“Do you not want this?” Janelle pulled back, questioning. The uncertainty in her eyes dampened the raging fire of lust long enough for Trent to get ahold of himself.
“What makes you think that?” Penny never had to ask. Trent willed the phantom of his ex-girlfriend away.
“You’re very gentle. I thought you’d be…I don’t know, rougher?” Janelle bit her lip. “The way you kissed me this afternoon. On the couch.”
Her words were gasoline poured onto a forest fire. Trent forced himself to breathe. “I want you, Janie. I’m trying not to hurt you.”
“You’re not,” she whispered. Trent bent his head to taste the fine skin along her neck. “In the video you weren’t gentle. With her.”
Phantom Penny was back, louche and mocking. We’re not regular, normal people. We’re stars, we burn bright and hot.
“How do you know? You only saw a few minutes.” Trent captured Janelle’s breast with one hand, and she arched into his palm.
“I watched it all the way through while I was on hold with the credit card company.” She whispered the confession into his ear, her lips brushing the rim. Trent wished she’d lick his ear, bite the edge just hard enough that he’d feel it. Suck his earlobe. The way Penny had known to do.
Comprehension muscled through Trent’s erotic haze. “All the way through? To the end?”
Janelle nodded against his neck, her hair sliding over his shoulder, tickling him. His arousal whipsawed into horror. The last ten minutes of the video were Penny jamming a toy up his ass and sucking him until he came everywhere. The money shot was legendary. Early in his army career, his fellow soldiers had given him an untold amount of shit over it, insinuating that he was gay. That didn’t bother him, and he’d never minded drawing heat away from the one soldier in their unit who did bat for the other team. The easiest response had been to grin and say, “did you see who I was fucking?” Yet his offhand bravado had never completely camouflaged the mortification of having his most private, intimate moments exposed for anyone to find in a few clicks. The way the blonde woman at the party earlier clearly had done.
Janelle made a feral little growl and arched against him. It was the hottest sound he’d ever heard, though with her face buried in his shoulder it was barely audible. She hiked one naked leg to his waist. His mind shorted out as he slid his hand up her lean, strong thigh to cup her ass.
“Touch me,” she demanded hoarsely. Trent traced the silky line of her thong down the valley between her buttocks to the softest part of her body.
His fingers brushed the fine wire of her pubic hair, so unexpected it shocked him. He’d have sworn he felt the texture with his entire body. Penny had always been bare, almost every woman in the industry was. It had become normalized. The difference kept him wholly present as he slowly savored her most feminine parts. He slid a finger down her center, and Janelle shuddered in his arms. Trent pressed upward, wondering. Desperate to touch.
Christ. She was completely soaked. A tortured mewl reverberated over his nerves where she panted into the crook of his neck. So far, Janie was making this easy on him.
“You poor thing,” he whispered, gliding his index finger over the thick folds of her sex to her clit. She gasped and angled against him.
Trent’s erection hardened to the point of pain. “How long have you been like this?”
“Since I sucked you off,” she mumbled, writhing against his hand. “I’ve had the girl version of blue balls all evening.”
He groaned, circling her clit through wet fabric before tracing her outline back down to her center. Trent hooked his finger beneath her thong, edged it aside, and repeated the slow tease. Up to her clit, slow circle, down. This time, he easily sank his index finger to the third knuckle. She was so close, panting hot against his neck. His arm was trapped under her, holding her close as she arched
and rubbed her tits against him. With his free hand, the one holding her open as he thumbed her clit, he curled two fingers to find the rough patch of nerves inside.
Janelle bucked and whimpered as he increased pressure. That’s the spot.
“I want to be inside you,” he gasped as her pussy clenched around his hand.
She didn’t answer. She was riding out the longest orgasm he’d ever watched a woman experience. He drove her ruthlessly higher, the pulses slowing, then picking up again as he drove her right into the next one. Relentless. Until Janie couldn’t hold back the sound of her pleasure any more, and let loose with a staccato scream.
* * *
Janelle’s entire body shook as the remnants of the orgasm she’d been dying for subsided. All afternoon and evening, she’d been carrying on an imaginary conversation with Crystal and Rachel in her head, which went something along the lines of:
Pretend-Crystal: It’s been 36 hours and you haven’t fucked your insanely hot roommate yet? Are you even heterosexual?
Followed by pretend-Rachel’s rebuke: You can’t have sex with a porn star you barely know. Even if you don’t go home with a souvenir disease, you get attached, and you’ll get hurt. Don’t do it.
On and on they went, imaginary good and bad angels perched on either shoulder. Yes, Rachel had basically ordered her to get laid earlier on the phone, but Janelle was certain Trent wasn’t what she’d had in mind.
I want to be inside you. His words haunted her and brought Janelle back to the moment. Though her skin prickled with heat, she shivered. “I have condoms.”
He stilled. “Good. I don’t.”
“I guess you didn’t pack for this sort of trip.” Rueful, Janelle unglued her face from Trent’s neck and peered up through the mess of her hair. His shirt was twisted into a corset around her torso, but more problematic, he was still fully clothed. Janelle lost all fine motor control as she fumbled with the buttons holding his lapels closed. “Take your shirt off.”
Trent unhelpfully attacked the buttons at her belly button.
“I meant the one you’re wearing.” She sat up and pulled his dress shirt over her head without further attempting to slide plastic disks through small holes. That level of dexterity was beyond her.
“You’re not as nice as you pretend to be.” Trent held up the hand he’d used to get her off. One at a time he licked each digit clean. Janelle’s eyes widened and her mouth popped open. A puff of astonishment escaped without sound. Trent reached over touched her bottom lip. “You taste good. Try it.”
Carefully, the tip of her tongue met his finger. Janelle made a face. “Gross.”
He shook his head and tucked a strand of black hair behind her flaming ear. “I don’t agree. Tell me what you want me to do.”
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
Trent chuckled. “Where?”
She glanced down, her neck muscles convulsing as she swallowed the words. “Everywhere.”
He picked up her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of her wrist. “There?”
“Guess again.” She licked her lips. “You’re still wearing too many clothes.”
Trent obliged her by removing his shirt and undershirt. “Now we’re even. Where do you want my mouth, Janie?”
His lips quirked up at the corner as he pulled her down for a kiss. “On my body.”
“Not specific enough. C’mon Janie, use your words. Tell me what you want and let me give it to you.”
Why is this so difficult? Most guys would’ve been on her like a leech, forget the consent gymnastics. Ben wouldn’t have pressed her to name what she wanted. He was nice, which was possibly the reason the sex hadn’t been very good. It had been neat and polite. If there was a flavor blander than vanilla, it would’ve described their love life to a T.
Janelle didn’t want vanilla anymore, but she didn’t know what to do differently. Couldn’t Trent just boss her around until she figured it out? Even a few pointers would’ve helped.
“I want you to go down on me,” she whispered.
“Lay back.” He patted the pillow.
Janelle stretched one arm toward the light on the nightstand and switched it off.
“How am I supposed to see what I’m doing?” Trent complained, though the room wasn’t completely dark. Ambient light from the hall area inside the room door wasn’t exactly mood lighting, but it wasn’t pitch black, either.
“Legs open, Janie. I won’t get far if you’re suffocating me.” Trent grinned. “Although that would be the second-best way to go.”
“What would be the first best?” Janelle inquired, arranging the pillows. That was more like it. He was the experienced one, and she needed instruction. Desperately. The only thing worse than admitting, however privately, that her sex life was as limited as it had been disappointing, was her abject terror that she’d be a terrible lay. Trent’s last partner had a set a high bar.
“Dying mid-orgasm.”
“You’ve thought about it a lot.” She wished she hadn’t turned out the light. The darkness made every movement more intense. All she could see were their interconnected shadows. The head of the bed was in the darkest part of the room by design. Trent shifted his weight and nudged her thighs apart. She yelped and looked down as his hair brushed her inner thighs. He kissed the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, and it elicited a gasp.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes.” Trent slicked his tongue straight up the center to her clit. It was the sexual equivalent of dropping a hair dryer into a bathtub. Zap. Her entire attention was on the sensation of his mouth at work. Her hands curled into the sheets, anticipating more.
Yet all he did was tease. Tiny licks, the barest contact, no fingers. It was the most maddeningly unsatisfying sensation in the world, driving her crazy with no hope of getting her where she wanted to go. She tried inching her body closer. “Trent?”
“Hm?” He poked his head out from between her legs.
“Harder.”
His laughter between her thighs almost sent her over the edge. “Anything you say, Janie.”
Trent tongue-fucked her with an enthusiasm she’d have sworn was feigned if he didn’t sound so damn happy doing it. Her hands scrabbled in his hair as he latched onto her clit and sucked, making Janelle come so hard her nails nearly tore through the wadded sheets she clutched.
She couldn’t speak. Trent grunted and shifted beneath her, moving Janelle on top until she was sitting on his hips. His hard cock a hard ridge under her. He still wore his trousers, and the friction of fine wool against her inner thighs was delicious. Sucking air into her lungs, Janelle ran her hands up Trent’s chest and shuddered.
“You’re hesitating.” His voice was ragged.
“I keep having this imagined conversation. I have two friends, Crystal and Rachel.”
“Is this the real one? Camping Rachel?”
Janelle nodded. “Crystal’s the one who recommended the whole sugar baby thing. In my mind, Crystal’s telling me to get a condom on you already. Rachel’s telling me I’d be insane to take this any further.”
“What would you tell Rachel or Crystal, in your situation now?” Trent asked.
Damn him.
“I’d tell either of them to go for it,” she whispered.
“Well.” Trent’s hands anchored her hips. “What are you waiting for?”
It wasn’t as if Janelle was protecting herself from loss, or hurt. She’d been falling for Trent since the moment he’d reluctantly saved her from being stranded in a strange city. Only the Penny question held her back.
“Are you still seeing her?” she blurted.
Trent started, and a wariness crept into his posture. “Penny? No. We broke up before her overdose.”
His words were reassuring, but Janelle sensed it wasn’t the entire truth. Still, it meant that this experience didn’t need to stay in Las Vegas. There was a possibility for this to become something real. If he’d let it.
Before she co
uld second-guess herself again, Janelle slid off the bed and scrambled for the two condoms in the pocket of her bag. Her hands shook as she tore open a packet. The first attempt, she tried rolling the condom on the wrong direction.
Trent tossed the damaged condom aside and held out his hand for the second one.
Janelle pushed her hair back. “I’m sorry.”
“About what? A piece of latex?” He rolled on the condom, the right way.
She didn’t answer. It was too embarrassing to admit she had almost no practice with using them. She’d gone on birth control right away with Ben, and she was still on it—not that Trent needed to know that. It was extra insurance.
Janelle straddled Trent’s body and lowered herself over him. The sensation of his head pressing into her stretched her to the limit. By the time she’d taken half of him, her breath came in shallow pants. He strained upward, hips flexing beneath her and driving his cock deep. A sound emanated from her, unrecognizable as human.
He pulled back. “Like that?”
“Again.” Janelle dropped her forehead onto Trent’s shoulder as he surged into her body. She was so full of cock she couldn’t do anything but sob with wordless gratitude. It didn’t hurt at all. Pressure took her right to the edge of pain, but he was careful never to push her over. Tight, controlled motions sent waves of pleasure cascading through her abdomen. It was amazing.
Trent dropped his hand onto her hip, finding her clit with his thumb. Janelle gripped his muscular shoulder with one hand as he stroked her. The orgasm hit hard. She was unprepared for the explosion radiating outward from her core as everything convulsed. For a moment, she was sightless, lost, completely interior. Then she pulled her head up and sucked air into her lungs.
Trent’s still-hard cock moved.
“Oh, my god,” Janelle breathed. “I didn’t think that was possible.”