Page 46 of Trade
I stop moving, and he growls. This time, I grab his jaw. “Don’t. Come. Until. I. Do.”
He nods in a way that makes it clear he has no faith that he’s capable of such a thing.
“If you come before me, I won’t let you touch me again.” It’s an empty threat. I don’t even know who the woman is who’s saying these things. I’ve seduced myself, and I’m making Dalton play along with a game I’m making up as I go.
He nods again with a lot more determination, and I begin to ride him again. Slowly. I brace myself on his chest, and I don’t have the leg strength to work him base to tip, so I slide up and down, eased by the wetness that’s nearly gushing from me.
With Bennett?—
No.
Fuck Bennett. He doesn’t exist. This is a brave new world. Gentle waves slap miles of shoreline behind us, and there is no limit above us, no voice from a box on the wall to interrupt, no clocks, only sunshine, wind, and air, and the beautiful man gazing at me like I’m the greatest wonder of them all.
His face is tensing. His hands move to grip my hips. I intentionally slow down.
“Glory. Fuck,” he hisses. “You’re killing me.”
“Don’t come. I’m not close yet.”
“Touch yourself,” he demands. “Catch up.”
I grab his wrists and push his arms above his head, pinning them to the tree trunk, tipping myself so far over that I can rub my clit against his pubic bone. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“I can’t hold it off,” he groans.
“You have to.”
“Fuck, Glory.” He forces his breath to slow, his entire body straining.
“You owe me.” It feels so good. Heat is gathering in my belly, but I don’t want it to end. I want to keep going on and on and on. I want to bask in this greedy, gnawing need. I press my forehead to his. “Don’t you want to feel this way forever?”
“Yes,” he pants. “No. Fuck, Glory.” He’s shaking. His arms are at his sides now, his tightly fisted hands popping the veins. “Please, Glory. Please.”
“No. Not yet.” I’m not done. He can wait. I arch my back, offering up a breast, and he immediately bends to take it in his mouth, lashing my nipple with his tongue, suckling with a desperate determination to drive me over the edge.
“I’m going to come,” he gasps.
“Don’t you dare.” I’m the one coming, tipping over and falling down, shattered and swept away by a swelling, roaring, rushing wave of absolute, perfect bliss.
I plunge my fingers into Dalton’s hair and draw him away from my breast so I can look into his bottomless, wild, starving eyes.
“Now?” he asks.
“Now.”
He shouts, seizes me by the waist, and drives his cock so far inside me that my teeth snap. He comes, bucking and convulsing, his head thrown back, baring his beautiful, strong throat.
He drifts back to earth slowly, a lazy smile breaking across his face as he smooths his rough palms down my back, cupping my bottom.
“Good boy,” I say, and wiggle. He’s still semi-hard inside me.
“Good boy?” He arches an eyebrow, mock-angry, and immediately flips us, lays me flat on my back, and thrusts his hips, fucking his cum back into me while his semi turns hard again. No recovery time needed, I guess.
I grin up at him and wrap my legs around his waist. “Good boy,” I repeat. “Now do it again.”
Later, we swim along the perimeter of the lake for a while, and when we get back to camp, we make love and eat and swim again, until we’re both boneless and exhausted. As the sun sets, Dalton builds a fire, scattering the herbs generously over it to drive away the mosquitos that appear as it gets darker. He lays out our blanket, and we lie side by side, staring up at the stars. His bicep is my pillow, and his body heat keeps me warm.
Our dynamic has switched yet again. I cling to his side, and he sprawls on his back like the king of the Outside.
