Page 50 of Healing Hearts
I barely recognize myself in the video. My hair is already wild, and I look almost drunk. Anticipation has eaten away my sanity.
He moves my panties to the side and slides his finger along my wetness, circling my clit. “I love how wet you get for me, how much you want me. Some days, this is all I can think about. Sliding into your wet heat.”
Then he pushes in, and I moan at how full he makes me feel, how turned on I am with so little effort.
“You like that?” he asks in my ear. Then he pulls out and eases in again, slow and deliberate. “I love seeing myself enter you, knowing I’m the one who gets to do this.”
One of his hands stays on my hip while his other comes around, playing a steady rhythm on my bundle of nerves, making it impossible for me to focus on anything but how it feels to be with him, to hear his ragged breathing in my ear, the consistent thrust of his hips.
“Look at yourself,” he says, “look at how well you’re taking me, how much you love it.”
And I see it, how dazed I look, as though I can’t get enough, can’t believe he’s making me feel so amazing. No one has ever had me like this—so bold and uninhibited.
The doorbell sounds, and I throw wide eyes over my shoulder at Trent.
“Did you lock the door?” Trent asks, his pace even and unhurried.
“Yes,” I whisper. “We should stop.”
“We’re not stopping. You come, and then I come.” He kisses my shoulder. “If you want a baby, you’d better get your head back in the game.”
I close my eyes to block out the person at the front desk, whoever it is.
“Trent!” Grady calls out in the shop.
When I tense, Trent thrusts harder. “Concentrate, Em.”
“I don’t think I can,” I say.
“You can.” He applies a little more pressure, enters me with a bit more force.
“Oh, god,” I mutter, my hands turning white on the desk. “Trent,” I plead.
“Come for me, Em. I want to feel you milking every last drop out of me, taking it all for yourself.”
Then he changes his angle slightly, and I see spots as I fall apart, shaking with the force of my orgasm, practically collapsing across the desk as he races toward his own finish, spilling himself inside me.
“Holy fuck,” he whispers in my ear. “I would say that was worth the wait, but I actually hate the wait. If I could, I’d be doing this all the time.”
I don’t say anything, but I know what he means. The intensity between us is all consuming. I can’t believe I just had an orgasm while Grady stood in the reception area.
“Grady,” I mumble.
Trent slides out, sliding my panties back into place and then adjusting himself. He kisses my shoulder and sets my dress beside me on the desk.
I watch him open his office door and slip out. I’m still so completely spent I can barely move.
Even as all of my parts start to reassemble, I remember that Amir is going to my mom’s tomorrow, that we’ll be locked together like this over and over, and I’m surprised to find myself getting turned on again, that even that time period feels too far away.
I glance at my watch and realize that if I don’t get moving, I’ll be late to pick up Amir. When I put on my dress, my thighs are sticky, and I’m keenly aware of why as I adjust my hair and check my makeup in my phone camera.
In the reception area, Grady has just left, his back retreating toward his truck in the evening light.
“Did Grady hear us?” I ask, feeling self-conscious.
“No,” Trent says. “When he asked what you were doing here, it wasn’t a smart-ass question.”
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
