He hisses out a breath and reaches down, moving aside my panties, my body lifting slightly off the floor, and I’ve never been so eager before, never been so needy for something in my life. I lift my body to meet his, and when he wraps his hand around the base of his cock, his eyes flick up to meet mine, a silent question coming from those dark depths. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this.” His voice is hoarse, and he swallows. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this.” The hand on my panties moves, and my breath catches as something—his thumb—pushes inside. He swears, and suddenly, there is a break in his control, his hips thrusting forward, hand moving aside and I come up off the rug at the feel of him pushing, bare and thick, inside of me.
God, the slick, hard feel of him. The way he falls over me, his hands holding him up, breath jagged, hips pumping. He moves slowly, the first thrust difficult, the second easier, the third smooth and wet, a soft hiss leaving his mouth. I can feel his restraint, the careful way he slides above me, each stroke full and deep, then slow as he pulls out. Each movement gives me all of him, each retreat has my body craving. I claw at his back and beg him for more, and when he looks down into my face—I almost come apart.
It’s him. It’s Trey. It’s his gorgeous face, that tight scowl when he is concentrating on something, the familiar burn in his eyes when he is aroused, the look I’ve always moved away from, always avoided. Now, it’s more than a burn; it’s a fire, his eyes devouring me, something so fiercely vulnerable in them, a look I recognize because I feel it—the terrifying realization that everything I’ve ever wanted is happening right now. Trey, my Trey, his mouth lowering to mine. His lips softly opening, his tongue against mine, my name a reverent whisper from his lips. His voice is thick when he tells me how incredibly fantastic I feel, when he tells me that he has wanted this for so long. Suddenly, he pauses, only the tip of him inside me, and my legs quake, and I curve my hips up for more, but he keeps me at bay, and there is the flash of his playful smile before it is gone, and he is all business, sitting back on his heels, his hand wrapping around the base of him as he pulls it out and gently, slowly, drags it over the top of me, my clit all but swooning from the slick feel of his head. “Tell me you love me,” he commands.
“I love you.” There is no hesitation in my words, only the hitch of breath right after, at the moment when he drops his cock and yanks at my panties, his strong hands shredding the fine lace, the ripping sound so raw and unrestrained, a slice of dirty pleasure sliding through me when he leaves the ruined fabric on my stomach. His hands move to my inner thighs, holding them open, holding me open, and he uses just his hips to guide the motion of his stiff shaft, his cock thrusting back and forth across the open spread of me, his grip keeping me in place, and I tremble at the hot, hard feel of him, slick from my juices, rolling with perfect pressure along my clit.
“Tell me that I am the only man for you.” He lifts his head and meets my eyes.
“You are.” It’s true. He has been since the day I walked into his building, since I had to move my desk just to concentrate on my work. Since I broke up with Craig in Hong Kong, since my heart hammered in my chest when Stephen told me that Trey wanted to fuck me. He has been the only man for me since the moment he uttered my name.
“Do you know—” His hands tighten on my thighs, and I move up on my elbows, needing to be closer to him, needing to see the hard length of him against my skin, the way he pushes it along my slit, my lips spreading a little around him. He looks so impossibly big, so masculine, so thick and virile, his strong hands biting into the soft skin of my inner thighs, the hard ridges of his stomach as those muscular thighs flex. “Do you know how fucking insane it made me to see you date other men?”
I look up at the growl in his voice, a shiver of illicit pleasure shooting through me at the possession in his eyes. “Did it?” Oh, I know. I know how it felt when his lips had lowered to Chelsea’s bare shoulder. I know how, when I’d straddled Stephen later that night, all I could think about was Trey’s mouth against her ear, his hand under the table, our eyes meeting for a moment across a linen tablecloth and menus.
“I used to fake phone calls so that I could leave the room and be alone, get away from you.” He quickens his hips, a swear rolling off his dirty mouth as he glances between our bodies for a moment, then looks back at me. “I would go into a bathroom stall and jack off my cock, imagining that you would follow me in there, and drop down on your knees.” He pushes on my chest, and I move my elbows, lying back on the rug, my legs dropping as he moves up my body, his stiff cock bobbing over my bra, brushing against my throat, and then he is leaning over me, his cock at my mouth, and I open it, my tongue against the tip of it. I reach for it, and he grabs my hand with one of his and pulls it above my head. “Unclasp your bra and then give me your other hand,” he orders, his eyes on mine.