Lovely Trigger

by R. K. Lilley

  I twisted my hips, rubbing my jutting cock hard into the soft flesh of her inner thigh. I shoved against her until I felt a spurt of pre-come coat the skin just below her pussy.

  She moaned and reached a grasping hand down, gripping me, pumping.

  It was too much, too soon, and I pulled it away. It seemed a waste to come all over her thigh, when I was more than welcome inside of her tight cunt.

  I flicked my tongue against her throat as I shifted, positioning us both so I was snug between her thighs, her feet lifted clean off the ground.

  I took her mouth with ferocity as I impaled her slowly onto my aching cock.

  She was suspended only by one hard hand on her hip, and my hard member working her on the inside.

  She gasped and trembled as I nailed her against that wall.

  I gripped my free hand into her hair, holding it at the nape, keeping her mouth anchored to mine.

  I pulled back to watch her face as I began to move.

  My eyes drank in the sight of her face, tight with longing, her eyes wide and moist, her lower lip trembling uncontrollably.

  I glanced down, watching as I slid in and out, watching my cock pull out until just the thick head remained lodged inside.

  My eyes flicked to her heaving chest, slick with sweat, her breasts so high and lovely.

  I met her stunned gaze as I crammed back into her brutally.

  She screamed, and I lost my mind, fucking her hard, harder, jamming into her, dragging out roughly, again and again, mindless with lust.

  She was so tight that I felt like I was stretching her with every mad drive, and I couldn’t get enough of it.

  I gripped her hips in both of my hands and bounced her forcefully on my cock.

  She screamed louder, and I kept fucking her in earnest.

  She was so close that she was starting to clench on me in anticipation. I didn’t let up.

  I bit softly on her lower lip as she came apart in my arms.

  That, I thought, that right there is what I need. The ability to fulfill her needs, the power to make her weak, weak enough to lean on me.

  Mine, my heart cried out to her.

  I didn’t stop, riding out her clenching walls and her digging nails.

  I shouted and cursed as legs shaking, back bowed I hit the end of her one last time, and erupted deep inside of her with explosive force, clenched so tight that I could feel each rough pull of semen being milked out of my pulsating cock by our combined efforts.

  I came and came, so far gone that I felt shaky with it. Even my vision went fuzzy for a few long, intense moments.

  I slid us both to the ground, pulling out of her on the way.

  Laying her gently on her back, I propped myself above her. I spread her limp thighs with a light touch, fingering her sex.

  I’d spilled in her twice already, and trails of liquid were running down her thighs. Watching her face, I shoved some of that errant fluid back inside of her, my thoughts on our lack of protection.

  It wasn’t that it’d slipped my mind. On the contrary, I’d noticed that even on that first time at the ranch, when I’d lost every ounce of sane thought. How not? Being bare inside of her was my own little kind of heaven, and the fact that she hadn’t protested at the time, well, that I’d chalked up to the fact that the lust had made her lose all control, like it had me.

  But she hadn’t said so much as a word about it the next time, either.

  Or the next.

  And neither had I.

  For my part, I had no motivation to so much as mention it. I was clean, and knew she would be. As for getting pregnant, I figured she was on the pill, but the fact was, even if she wasn’t, I didn’t care.

  That wasn’t true. I cared. I wanted her off the pill. I wanted her to get pregnant.

  Right or wrong, I’d never stopped wanting that. I doubted I ever would.

  Things were still unsettled between us, but I couldn’t even pretend not to wish for some small chance I could have gotten her pregnant. I wanted that. I was more than ready to try my hand at being a father.

  And there was only one woman I’d ever have considered for the role of mother to my children.

  She gasped and turned her face away. “Oh God, Tristan. What are we doing?”

  “I don’t know, but neither of us work tomorrow, so we’re about to do it for two days straight, whatever we want to call it.”

  She didn’t even look like she’d heard me. In fact, she looked like she was drifting off.

  I sprawled onto my back beside her. “I have to say, I’m tempted to sleep right here on the floor. Seems easier than trying to move at the moment.”

  She snorted.

  “What? You can’t move either. Admit it.”

  “I could move, if I wanted to,” she said, a hint of a smile in her voice.

  I turned my face to look at her. “Prove it. I bet you can’t even get up right now.”

  “You and your bets,” she said, but she’d started moving, rolling onto her side.

  She’d never admit it, but the woman couldn’t turn her back on a dare to save her life.

  It took her a minute, but she made it onto her stomach, and then pushed up with her hands, dragging her legs underneath her.

  Slowly, giving me a hell of a view, she rose onto her elbows and knees.

  She braced herself there, facing away from me

  And the view she gave me right then. Jesus.

  I bit my own fist I was so turned on by the sight.

  I wasn’t tired anymore. Every part of me woke right up, and in fact, one particular part went to great lengths to rise to the occasion.

  I’m not proud of this, but that was the precise moment when my errant cock decided that it had to be buried in her tight little ass in a hurry.

  Everything was just lined up so perfectly. She was relaxed to the point of limp, natural lube was dripping down her thigh with every shift of her body. Who could resist? Not me. Not fucking likely.

  She hadn’t quite worked herself into a crawl when I covered her, my chest pushing into her back.

  She reared up. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” she said, not quite stifling a laugh.

  I was already parting her thighs from behind, dragging me cock against her, using the moisture between her legs to make my member slick. I grabbed a bit of extra moisture, dragging it up to her back entrance.

  That’s when she got the picture. “Oh,” she uttered softly, then held perfectly still.

  I didn’t ask for permission, just moved into position and started to enter her. “Tell me if it gets to be too much,” I gasped, working to get my tip in. That first shocking inch would be the challenge.

  It wasn’t easy. She was not accustomed to this, and her body was firmly closed against me.

  I reached between us, burying two fingers in her pussy. I started to move them, and as she accepted my fingers, her back gave just enough to let me push my throbbing tip into her.

  After that, I was able to sink into her, going as slow as I could stand. I was big, and I knew it wouldn’t be easy for her to take me like this, but with patience I was able to sink in a few aching, precious inches.

  “Am I hurting you, sweetheart?” I groaned, finger fucking her hard, because that seemed to soften the rest of her.

  She couldn’t even speak, just writhing and moaning below me.

  I could live with that. What I couldn’t live with was the superhuman control it took not to start fucking her ass harder.

  With a rough grunt, I thrust in another intense inch, and then another. I stopped when I had a thought.

  “Am I hurting your knee?”

  “Don’t stop!” she gasped, because my fingers had stopped moving. I started working them again, jerking hard, and pushed my cock in farther.

  I pulled out a bit, head tilted down to watch my progress. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to bury myself to the hilt. I wanted to, bad, but I couldn’t stand the thought of hurting her, and I really was too big to
do this particular act comfortably.

  “Just fuck me,” she moaned.

  My eyes shut on a groan of pleasure and I sank back in, farther than I’d been before I started pulling out. “Say that again,” I urged her, my voice rough with effort.

  “Fuck me. Fuck my ass. Don’t hold back.”

  “I’ll hurt you if I don’t hold back.”

  “I don’t give a fuck. So I’ll be sore tomorrow. Shit happens. Bury that gorgeous cock inside of me. I can take it.”

  That was a full on tirade for her during a sexual act, as she usually wasn’t coherent enough for words at this stage.

  I started pumping my fingers fast, swinging my hips hard against her, driving in until just two inches at my base weren’t buried. She seemed okay underneath me, in fact she was writhing in pleasure, so I let myself drive in those last few inches.

  I stayed like that for a full minute, hoping it would help her adjust.

  Finally, snapping, I shut my eyes tight and let go, pulling out halfway, then shoving back in.

  I dragged out again, farther this time, then plunged back in deep with one jerky swing.

  I heaved nearly entirely out, biting my lip hard as I rammed back in hard.

  I told her how beautiful she was, how perfect, how good her toned little ass felt to bury myself in. I barely registered what I was saying as it came out of my mouth, but it was all the blunt truth. Her flesh, any of it, wrapping around me, sucking me in, had always acted as a truth serum for me. I could not be inside of Danika and keep to myself just how damned glorious I thought she was. Never had been.

  It was ironic, because I wasn’t a talker during the act with anyone else.

  Only her. Always her.

  I dragged out and jammed in, still going slow, being careful, well, careful as could be considering.

  She started coming around my fingers, I felt it, and when she let go, so did I.

  With a harsh cry, I pushed her shoulder down, grabbed her hip, and started fucking in earnest, rocking in and out with great, heavy drives.

  I was rough, but the rough part was quick, as I was already far gone before I’d started up the rhythm that finished me. My eyes rolled up into my head as I felt my sac filling, the great rush of my orgasm building into an eruption that shot out of me in heavy waves.

  I was just starting to ejaculate when I pulled out, coming on her back, her ass, even crawling as far up as her sexy shoulder blades, watching each heaving spurt landing on her. I even painted her tattoo.

  Her voice came muffled but amused. “You giving yourself a money shot back there?”

  I grunted an affirmative like the caveman she liked to call me.

  It took a while, but I managed to get us both upstairs, showered, and into bed.

  I lay on my back, tangled with her, profoundly and irrevocably entwined. She nestled into me, and I pulled her cheek over my heart, arranging her, trapping her against me for the night.

  I watched her face for a long time, until I was sure she was deeply asleep. “I love you,” I told her, voice hushed, reverent.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  DANIKA

  I tried to make my expression less unpleasant than I felt when a decked out Mona came striding into my gallery just a few minutes before closing time the next day.

  There goes my day, I thought, my face so stiff it would have cracked if I’d tried to fake a smile, which I didn’t.

  Her gown was short, gold, and heavily sequined. I’d have bet good money it was one of the many dresses she wore in Tristan’s show.

  She gave me a warm smile as she approached me directly.

  Like we were old friends.

  We were not. I nodded at her, setting my jaw, bracing myself, as she drew close.

  My eyes were drawn to her enormous chest. I’d forgotten it was quite so huge. It looked extra ridiculous in her tight dress. It had a round neckline that she practically spilled out of. She had the kind of rack that should have lost at least one plastic surgeon his license, because seriously, who would agree to do that to a person? She was more than a little in danger of tipping over on the spot.

  I felt sick to my stomach, and she hadn’t even opened her mouth. I really didn’t like dealing with this woman, or looking at her, or remembering that she existed.

  “Danika! How are you?” Her voice was filled to brimming with what honestly sounded like genuine affection. I just couldn’t credit it.

  I didn’t buy it, not for a second, but I had strong doubts that that had anything to do with her. More likely, I just didn’t like her, and I was looking for things to back up that dislike.

  Things other than the fact that she’d been intimate with my own personal lifetime obsession.

  “Hello, Mona,” I kept my voice civil, if nothing else. “What can I do for you?”

  She beamed. “I just came to see if you wanted to go and grab a bite to eat, since your shift is ending, and mine doesn’t start for a few more hours.” Her tone was engaging and personable, as though this was the most reasonable of requests.

  I didn’t hesitate. “Sorry, I have plans.”

  “We can be quick. I actually wanted to talk to you about a few things, sensitive things that I’m sure you don’t want to discuss in front of your co-workers.” She glanced around, her eyes finding Kate, who was likely not even out of earshot.

  It was a threat, though nothing but her words were communicating that, her tone as warm as ever.

  I took a few deep breaths. It was immature, but I wanted to call Tristan and chew him out for having to deal with this. “I’ll meet you in ten minutes,” I told her, voice deceptively calm.

  “Perfect! Bistro near the theatre?”

  “That’s fine.”

  She left, and I glared at her back.

  It took me longer than ten minutes to get there, more like thirty, while I closed up I took my sweet time, because really, what was my motivation for rushing into this mess?

  I honestly thought about ditching out completely, but I didn’t want her to feel she’d gotten the better of me, so I went, my mood black.

  She was eating when I approached, but I didn’t order anything. I was leaving as soon as my pride would allow.

  She set down the fork she’d been using to eat her salad, opened her mouth to speak, but we were interrupted by a couple that had seen her in the show the night before and wanted her autograph.

  She smiled sheepishly after they’d left. “That almost never happens. Bizarre timing.”

  I just nodded. “What did you want to talk about?”

  She looked vaguely uncomfortable for a moment.

  Finally, some understandable reaction to something. Everything else about her was just so off to me.

  “It’s about Tristan.”

  Of course, it is, I thought.

  “I’m sure you know he and I are very close. I assume he’s told you about our longstanding friendship.”

  I smiled thinly. “Strangely enough, no. You haven’t come up. Though I do recall you telling me that you two were the best of friends, last time we met.”

  She blinked. “Yes, I remember that. That same meeting where you told me there was nothing rekindled between you and him. Let me ask you something, is that still the case?”

  I gave her a level stare. “I really don’t like to talk about my personal life with people I barely know. If you have a question about this, perhaps you should ask your very close friend, Tristan.”

  She was unfazed, as friendly as ever, not even a hint of temper evident in response to my words. “He’s been very close-lipped lately. He’s been different, edgy, less happy, for the last few weeks. This worries me very much, you see, because I’ve been there for him for so many years, and I know he counts on our friendship to help him through rough spots. Tell me, did you and he have a similar relationship? Did you help him through rough spots, Danika?”

  I was shaking, but my voice was firm. “If that’s all, I’ll be going.” My composure was hanging on
by a very thin thread.

  “Wait! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come across so pushy, but something happened yesterday that worried me. You see, Tristan is trying to get me hired on for a different act, for a different magician, when my contract is up in two months. I don’t understand this. Do you have any clue where this might be coming from? Did you tell him that you didn’t want me working with him?”

  The scarred, raw, burned organ in my chest got just a tiny bit less sore. He was getting Mona out of his life. I wanted to celebrate, then smash my own head into the wall for being so happy about it.

  “I’ve come to you, woman to woman, because I think that us women handle things like this better than men do.” She smiled.

  I prayed for the strength not to throw something at her. “Well, that’s an interesting way to look at it, but I don’t share the view. Here’s what I think: You should be taking this issue to the person who it involves, the man you say is your very close friend, instead of a woman you barely know who has nothing to do with your friendship with this man.”

  She was still unfazed. “That’s fair. I don’t blame you there. So are you two back together, or is this a casual type of situation?

  I stood. “We’re talking in circles. Take this to Tristan, please.”

  I left, feeling like an uncivil bitch, because even as I’d left rudely, I hadn’t rattled her pleasant air.

  I called Tristan when I got to my car. It was the first time I’d actually called him since this crazy train had started up again. We’d been communicating mostly through messages, but if we did talk on the phone, it had always been him calling me.

  He answered on the first ring, his low voice sounding delighted and surprised. “Danika, sweetheart. I was just thinking of you.”

  I paused. I hadn’t been prepared to start like that. I had to get my bearings for a long moment. “I just spoke to Mona,” I began.

  Long pause. “Was she bothering you? What happened?”

  “I think she wants to be buddies. I think she’d like us to hang out and talk about you, because we’re all such very good friends.”

  Another long pause. “I’ll talk to her. I’m very sorry about that.”