“Oh, that was incredibly hot, you getting all caveman-like and ripping my clothes. I could have stood up, you know.”
“Naw… I liked my way better, honey.” Trevor ended the conversation by attaching his lips to Laura’s left nipple. He gently bit down on the pebbled bud before sucking it into his mouth.
“Yes. Oh, yes, Trevor…”
Trevor continued the attention he was paying Laura’s breasts, while moving his fingers gently up and down the outsides of her slit. He could feel the heat, the moisture that had built in that heavenly place. With his finger, he probed her entry, then pushed in to her, then pulled back out. His finger was wet from her juices—he contemplated, for just a moment, spreading that juice around her clit, but thought better of it. A taste of her—that was what he needed.
He sucked at his own digit, licked all her sweet essence into his mouth. Then he repeated the gesture, this time plunging two fingers deep into and out of her moist cavern before licking them clean. Again and again he plunged, withdrew and sucked. Laura squirmed on his lap. His rod pressed hard against her, the pressure only slightly relieved by the opening of his pants. He needed to get naked as well, but he wanted to make Laura fall apart, scream his name as he brought her to release. But he also wanted to suck her sweet pussy dry, quench the never-ending thirst he had for her juices.
“Decisions, decisions,” he moaned.
“Mmm… Did you say something?” Laura hummed in his ear.
“Just deciding what I want to do to you first—whether to get naked with you, or just eat your pussy first. I can’t make up my mind. It all seems so good.”
“Get naked, Trevor. Let me feel the warmth of your skin against mine.”
“Are you cold, honey? I didn’t even think…”
“No, not cold—burning, melting for you. Definitely not cold, but I still want to feel your skin against mine. Flesh to flesh, no barrier between us.”
Trevor decided that Laura was right—no barriers between them sounded good—but he had to move her so he could achieve that goal. As he gently lifted her smaller frame from his lap, ready to place her next to him on the couch Laura began to struggle. Worried that he was hurting her, Trevor let her go, let her move herself, only to discover that she had a plan of her own. Laura slid between his thighs kneeling on the carpet. The grin she gave him sent lightning bolts of pleasure through his system. Trevor remembered that look—that wicked, wonderful look. And so did his cock.
“Here, let me help you undress. I promise I’ll be extra careful!” Laura giggled as she teased Trevor, purposely brushing her hand over the hardness in the front of his pants, then cupping him gently. “Hmmm, you feel kinda worked up again. Isn’t that how you described it last time? When you cautioned me on the zipper thing.”
“Oh, hon, I’m past worked up—I’m about to explode.” Trevor gritted out.
“Maybe I can do something to help, then,” Laura purred.
She leant forward so as to reach the opening of his pants. With one hand, she carefully lowered the zipper completely—it had already been at half mast from when he had unbuttoned earlier to give himself more room, but now he was completely open. Laura grasped the waistband of Trevor’s pants.
“Lift.”
As he did, she pulled them down past his hips, repeating the motion with his boxers. Once freed, Trevor’s shaft stood tall, rigid. As if it were beckoning her, she could not refuse its call. She ran her tongue around the circumference of his erect penis, the mushroom-like head, the joining of his skin. She laved and licked, explored every bulbous vein, every satiny bit of skin that covered his impressive form. Laura loved the taste of him, the slightly salty, musky maleness. She lapped at the pre-cum that formed at the eye before swallowing his erection down into her throat, loving the moans and grunts Trevor was making.
When he took hold of the sides of her head and drew her away, she didn’t fight him. It was time he buried that hard cock—that part of him that differentiated his maleness from her femininity—inside her dripping wet and throbbing pussy, where it belonged. “I need you, Laura, need to bury myself in you, want to come inside you.”
“I need that too, Trevor.”
Laura lay back on the carpet and spread her legs for him in an invitation for him to take her. She watched as he extracted a condom from the wallet he took from his now discarded pants’ pocket. He rolled the latex on and her mouth watered. Her folds wept with cream as the moment drew close—the moment she’d thought she would never feel again, that fullness she had craved for weeks and had been unable to attain at her own hands.
Trevor knelt over her, nudging his cock at the opening of her wet, eager, molten heat. Then he thrust into her. The movement and the feeling were all she had been waiting for. His rock-hard cock rubbed against her sensitive clit as he entered, and the sensation it evoked was pure bliss. Her orgasm built, soaring to a peak, unstoppable. The pleasure was so intense, so pure that she screamed with delight.
“Trevor!” she yelled as she dug her nails into his shoulders, her heels pressed into his backside as she strove to ride the wave to completion. The rhythm of his thrusts grew frantic, desperate, as she felt him tense over her.
“Fuck…”
It was the only word to escape his mouth that she understood, as once again she imagined she could feel his heat, the pressure of his seed as it filled the condom.
They were both spent, sated. Trevor’s body crushed hers, but the feeling was so wondrous, so comforting that she did not care if he smothered her. Laura did not move, hoping that the moment would never end.
“I‘m too heavy for you. I’m sorry, I just can’t move, give me a second.” Trevor’s muffled voice disturbed the silence.
“No, I’m fine—enjoying the fact that if you smother me, I will die feeling this good. This happy.”
Trevor lifted from her, his limp cock slipping from her. She sighed over the loss.
“Oh, I miss you already,” she whimpered.
“Don’t fret, hon. I intend to be back inside you very soon, but I need a minute. And I think maybe next time the bed might be a more comfortable surface.”
“What’s the matter, old man, floor a bit hard for you?”
“Not for me—I had your softness between the floor and my body. I was thinking for you, but hey, if you’re okay with it, hell, I’m not about to complain. In fact, I vote we try every surface there is.”
Before Laura had a chance to say a word, Trevor flipped her so she lay belly down on the floor. He lifted her hips in the air, and she knew her butt was now sticking up in his face, giving him a unfettered view of her pussy lips. She could feel the moisture that still leaked from between those lips, but didn’t have the energy or desire to fight against the new position, or be self-conscious over it.
Laura felt Trevor’s cock, already hard again, breach her opening. The mushroom-shaped head pushed past her tingling folds, folds tender from all the attention her pussy was now receiving, but she didn’t care about any discomfort—she wanted more. She wanted Trevor buried so deep inside her that he became part of her. She thrust her hips back towards him.
“I told you before I wanted to take you from behind. I’ve imagined this, and it feels as good—no, better than I could have believed. I love the shape of your arse. One day I’d like to take you here, if you’ll let me.”
Laura dropped her head to the floor as Trevor softly touched the puckered opening to her back passage, gently massaged that tight ring of nerve endings. It was a part of her that she’d never dreamed could feel sexual, sensual. Never in her wildest fantasies had she thought she would want anyone to touch her there, but she came alive. The sensation or the image—whatever it was it was—was enough to send shivers of anticipation rocketing through her. She had never had sex that way, and the slightly shocking idea sent her reeling with desire. And again, with little effort, little direct stimulation to her clit, Laura climaxed, the orgasm shattering her system. She thought that she might die from
the pleasure.
Trevor bit his tongue the moment after he’d voiced his erotic thought. The image of his cock riding her tight butt as his fingers stroked her pussy was so hot he’d forgotten to censor his words. But judging by the way her body responded, her pussy tightening and throbbing around his buried cock, Trevor realised that Laura was not opposed to the idea. At a later date, though, he thought. No hurry. For now, he was content to explore every other sexual position, every way to make Laura moan with pleasure. And he wanted to know her mind as well.
He would not blow this second chance—this time, he would take the time to understand her, to get inside her head. He would find out how to make Laura happy, how to make her fall in love with him. Because Trevor was more than halfway there already, he decided as he held her, thrust into her tight pussy, slammed his balls against the globes of her delectable arse. As he felt his ejaculate ready to explode from his dick, he remembered he had not used a condom, so reluctantly he pulled out of her wetness. He let his cum spurt over her lower back, drip down between her cheeks, as he fell forward and covered her body, the feel of his cum sticky between their skin.
“Close call—sorry, honey, sorry about the stickiness, but I had to pull out. Didn’t know if you were protected and I forgot the condom, only just remembered at the last second.”
“Mmm…feels good between our bodies, our skin… Another connection.” Her voice sounded dreamy, tired.
Trevor stood and scooped Laura up in his arms, ignoring her squeal at the sudden movement. He tenderly kissed her cheek as he rested her head against his chest and carried them towards his bathroom.
He would bathe Laura first, clean his seed from her skin—although the thought of it there, his cum marking her as his, did strange things to his mind. Possessive instincts bubbled close to the surface, reminding Trevor how much he wanted this connection to her.
He examined his mind, his feelings, and found no fear disturbed his inner thoughts—there was no niggling voice that heralded doom. After they were both cleansed of the sweat and passion from their lovemaking, more comfortable, Trevor would take her to his bed so they could get some sleep.
He would hold her in his arms and dream of future happiness, safe in the knowledge that he had Laura’s light in his life to help combat his darkness.
Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:
League of Love: Mandy’s He-Man
Donna Gallagher
Excerpt
Chapter One
Mandy had not been expecting her ex-boyfriend to grab her by the throat, not in such a busy nightclub. When she’d noticed him heading her way, she had tried to hide her instant, mind-numbing terror by standing as tall as her short-statured body would allow. Though she’d had a little too much to drink, she’d tried not to sway as she’d planted her black boot-clad feet firmly on the ground. With her legs spread slightly apart, head up and chin stuck out defiantly, she’d done her best to portray the image of a strong woman, and not that of the vulnerable victim she had been. But the rough feel of his fingers as they’d wrapped around her throat had been something she could not have prepared herself for.
Mandy, shocked by the suddenness of his attack, feared for her life, believing that he was there to follow through on what had been a constant barrage of threats to kill her. He would do it there and then in this grungy, dark club. The sounds from the heavy metal band would be the last thing she would ever hear. The colours swirling in Mandy’s head were in synch with her terror—sable and claret, violent reds and angry yellows spinning into a kind of black, angry vortex in her mind, making it hard for her to react.
Mandy always saw colours in her mind, ones that matched her emotions. She had since she was very young, not just the typical ‘black means sad’ and ‘red means mad’, but combinations that could rival any home decorator’s paint charts. Depending on her mood, varying shades, tones and shimmering hues—too many to even describe—splashed and swirled throughout Mandy Magenta’s head. Her mind’s colours, usually a comfort to Mandy, were now doing nothing to help stabilise her emotions. She needed to get a grip on her fear, push through the angry vortex and find some shades of power to give her the courage to fight.
As Con—her biggest mistake—started dragging her by her throat towards the exit of the club, Mandy used all the strength she could muster to try to slow him down. She dug her heels ineffectively into the club’s sticky carpet, hitting and scratching at the hands gripping her throat, which had delivered so much pain in the past. Her efforts brought no response from her vicious ex, so Mandy began flailing her arms wildly to try to get someone to notice what was happening and intervene.
Perhaps the doorman will help me? If I could just get his attention, she thought.
Con leaned towards her and whispered, “Amanda, you’re a bad girl, hiding from me. It has taken up a lot of my time and energy to track you down. I told you what I would do to you if you made me angry again, and you know how much I enjoy our little games. It’s time to play.”
The familiar, threatening tone had an instant effect. A paralysing ripple of fear travelled through her body, leaving a cold fever in its wake. Mandy was unable to stop the rash of goosebumps from breaking over her skin as a heaviness formed in the pit of her stomach, accompanied by memories of pain and degradation.
Mandy was now way past frantic. She couldn’t let Con take her out of the building. She had to fight harder.
I may as well die here, instead of in some back lane, probably more painfully. Fight him—kick, scream! C’mon, girl! she told herself, trying desperately to inspire some extra burst of inner strength to overcome her terror. But as she found the courage to continue her struggle, her efforts were quickly defused.
Con spat in her face. The shock of this disgusting action and the feel of the sticky glob of wetness dripping down her cheek made her gag, and she stumbled. The pain in her shoulder as Con jerked her upright again was so severe that it was all Mandy could do to stay conscious. As all hope faded, Mandy simply prayed that she would survive another of Con’s brutal attacks.
Mandy wasn’t sure what happened next. One second she was being choked, terrified for her life, in pain and being dragged away. The next she was standing behind a behemoth of a man and Con was in a heap on the floor.
She was crying. Big, fat tears rolled uncontrollably down her cheeks. She could not believe she had escaped from Con again. Her throat was painful and sore, but she would live.
JT had saved her.
What is he doing here? How could I have missed him in the club earlier?
The air around her usually seemed to spark when JT was near. Mandy hadn’t thought this club would be the type of place he frequented—not that she really had a clue what type of place JT did like. She loved it there though. Because of the loud music and grungy look and feel of the place, Mandy fitted in—or at least, didn’t stand out. She knew some of the regulars, fellow stallholders from the local flea markets around Sydney. Markets like Glebe and Paddington, with a trendy and slightly feral feel about them. Places Mandy could sell her art and handmade jewellery, or draw portraits.
Con had always hated these types of clubs. It was probably another positive in the club’s favour, in Mandy’s opinion. He had preferred chic, trendy clubs full of what she suspected were superficial people just wanting to be seen in the ‘right crowd’. In fact, the more Mandy thought about her relationship with Con, the more she couldn’t understand why he had even been interested in her at all. Mandy was not the ‘in crowd’.
None of this thinking answered her original question, though.
What was JT doing there? Should she check and make sure that he hadn’t killed Con?
Not that she was worried for her ex. It was more that Mandy knew that Brodie, her neighbour’s boyfriend, would be pretty pissed off at her if he lost his Sydney Jets teammate to a jail cell.
Everything was going to be okay!
The bouncer had finally joined them and was escorting a
bewildered Con out. The bouncer had probably taken JT’s side in the scuffle because he looked way too big to fight. Mandy wished she could stop crying. It was embarrassing, and she hated feeling like a victim, but she had been fighting this battle with Con for so long and, up until this minute, she had been losing. So far, her life in Sydney had not reached the dizzying heights she had dreamed it would.
JT had been surprised to see Mandy at the rough inner city club. But it was a nice surprise. It had given him something to do while the boys partied hard—watch her…
He had accompanied the younger Jets players on their night out to celebrate halfback Mitch’s twenty-first. He thought it was important to watch over the boys when they were in celebration mode. He could share their fun, but if anything even threatened to get out of hand, he could ‘cut it off at the pass’, so to speak.
Finding Mandy at the club had been an unexpected bonus. JT had been psyching himself up to go and speak to her, checking the lay of the land to see who she was with before making his move, when the drama had erupted. He had been trying to figure out just why the idea that Mandy might have a boyfriend seemed so distasteful to him when he’d picked up the troublemaker on his radar.
JT was a man with an instinct for being aware of his surroundings. He had noted the aggressive look on the guy’s face as he had entered the club. But nothing could have shocked him more than seeing him grab Mandy by the throat.
At that point JT had gone into overdrive. Already angry, he had charged to Mandy’s aid, and had nearly lost it completely when he’d seen the dickhead spit on her.
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