Trashed (Stripped #2)

by Jasinda Wilder

  “I’m glad I wore a matching set today,” Des murmurs. “This is the only thing even close to lingerie I have, and I’m only wearing it because everything else is dirty and I haven’t done laundry yet—”

  She’s rambling out of nervousness, which is cute, and unlike her. “Des.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Shut up.” When she frowns down at me, I smile back. “You’re sexy. And honestly, I couldn’t care less what kind of underwear you’re wearing. It’s all coming off, whether it cost fifty dollars or a thousand. To me, it’s all about what’s underneath.”

  I pull the elastic at her right hip down an inch or two and kiss the flesh as I bare it, slide my finger across and beneath her navel, and do the same to her opposite hip. She’s not breathing now, and her hands slide through my hair, her fingers combing my short, gelled black spikes. Another gentle tug, and her left hipbone is bared, my lips graze her skin as my fingers drag over her stomach just above her core now. I lower the silk on her right hip.

  I do this again and again, teasingly slowly until the top of her pubic hair is revealed. Her fingers freeze on my head, fingernails digging into my scalp. She gasps as I curl the index fingers of each hand into the elastic at her hips and tug her panties off in one quick motion.

  “Adam…”

  “This is the penthouse,” I tell her, “and the apartment beneath is untenanted.”

  Her brow furrows as I glance up at her. “So?”

  I keep my eyes on hers as I touch my lips her pudendum, then her thigh. “So feel free to scream as loud as you want.”

  I nudge at her inner thigh with my nose and her stance widens, and then I dive in, my tongue going to her hard little clit and lapping at it slowly.

  “Oh…shit.”

  “Balance for me, babe,” I tell her.

  “What?” she gasps. I grab her left ankle and lift. She leans so her weight is on her right foot, and her hand goes to the wall on her left. I drape her knee over my shoulder and suction my lips to her pussy. “Oh shit. Oh my god, Adam.”

  Her hips angle forward and her left heel hooks around my back, opening herself to me even further. I taste her essence on my tongue, musky and sweet. Her hands are in my hair and holding the back of my head, her breath coming in short gasps. I don’t draw it out or toy with her. I slide one hand up to her ass and clutch one of the globes, keeping her core against me, and I bring the fingers of my other hand to my chin, find her opening and slide in, one finger first. She’s wet and hot and tight around my finger, and I slide it in, then out, setting a synched rhythm of finger and tongue, and she’s gasping even louder now, a whine at the back of her throat coming with each exhale. Her hips angle forward and pull back, and I can feel the leg supporting her weight trembling.

  “I can’t—I can’t…ohgodohgod, Adam—” she groans, and her spine bows out, pushing her tits forward and her hips into me, her core harder against my face.

  I know she can’t possibly come while standing on one leg, so when I sense that she’s close, both to the edge of orgasm and the end of her ability to balance, I stand up, keeping her left leg in my hand, around my waist. I bend at the knees and lift her right leg. She stares at me in obvious surprise as I lift her and support her weight with my hands under her ass.

  “Adam, you’re going to break your back, you idiot,” she says, wrapping her arms around my neck as if afraid I’ll drop her.

  She’s not light, but I carry her easily across the apartment to the couch. I set her down and kneel between her thighs. She’s shaking all over.

  “I was so close,” she murmurs.

  “Yeah? How close?” I ask, nuzzling at her thighs, kissing my way toward her core.

  “Right there. Couple more seconds…”

  “You want it, babe? You want me to make you come?”

  She palms the back of my neck. “Yes, god yes. Please…”

  I pause with my face inches from her core. “Then let me see you take off that bra. Show me those gorgeous tits of yours, Des.” She leans forward and reaches behind her back, frees the strap and slides one arm out, then other, and then she’s tossing the undergarment onto the coffee table. I make a low sound in my throat, a moan of appreciation. “God, you’re perfect. Look at them, Des. Big, round, soft—”

  “Just like the rest of me,” she jokes.

  I reach up and strum a nipple with my thumb, and she gasps. “You’re sexy, Des. I don’t care what words you want to use to describe yourself. You’re beautiful all over. Here—” I flick my tongue against her clit, “…Here—” and I lift up to suck her rigid pink nipple into my mouth and flatten it between my tongue and the roof of my mouth, “and here—” I release her nipple and find her mouth with mine, driving my tongue between her lips.

  I slide my hand up her thigh, over the side of her hip, up her ribs, caress her back, and then pull her into the kiss with my hand at the back of her head, and then break the kiss to tap her temple. “And you’re beautiful here.” I bring my palm down, over her breast to where I can feel her heart beating. “And here.”

  “God, Adam.” She leans back, her eyes full of emotion. Her fingertips touch my cheeks, drag down to my jaw, and then wrap around the back of my neck. “Shut up and make me come.” She pushes my head toward her core.

  I bury my face between her thighs, and she draws her knees apart, leans back against the couch, moaning in relief as I suck her clit between my lips and slip my middle finger into her channel. Her hips roll as I suckle, and then I flick my tongue and move my head in a circle, faster and faster.

  And yet, when I feel her tense, I slow. She groans in frustration, which turns into a whimper when I curl my finger inside her, and then add my ring finger inside her. I start a slow in-and-out motion with my two fingers, curling at the in-thrust to scrape at her high inner wall. I glance up at her, and her eyes are closed, the corner of her lower lip between her teeth, a desperate expression on her face. I return my attention to her pussy, reaching up with my free hand to pinch and roll her nipple between forefinger and thumb until she’s moaning and her hips are writhing and I feel her walls clamp down around my fingers. Her body quivers, straightens, and she lets out a small scream. One of her knees and then the other hooks over my shoulder, and she lifts free of the couch cushion completely, writhing against my face as I devour her, my tongue circling her wildly, fingers fucking her steadily. Her hips grind, moving against my fingers and mouth and she’s gasping breathless shrieks as wave after wave of orgasmic bliss wash over her.

  I’m hard, achingly hard from eating her out, from the sight of her nude perfection and the taste of her essence and the sounds of her climax. I need her. I need her pussy around my cock, her mouth on mine, her hands on my skin. Except I’m fully clothed still, and I realize I don’t have any condoms. I used the last I had with Des six months ago and never bought more.

  She comes down from her climax and goes limp against the couch. I move to sit beside her, and kiss her shoulder, her chest, her throat, unable to keep my hands or mouth off her. I caress her waist, her hip, kiss between her breasts.

  “Adam, wait.” She pushes me away. “My turn.”

  She grabs the lower hem of my shirt and peels it off, tosses it aside.

  She sees my bruises and gasps. “Adam…? What happened?”

  I shake my head. “Just a stunt. I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

  She eyes me. “You’re sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

  I reach for her. “Babe, the only thing that hurts is how bad I need you.”

  “Then let’s get you naked,” she breathes.

  She leans into me, kisses my chest, and her hands caress my shoulders and trace my abs, and then her fingers are at the fly of my jeans, unzipping me. I love that, the feel of her hands unzipping my jeans. And the button is popped, and my dick is pressing up at the opening against my underwear.

  Des straddles me, pushes me back against the couch and leans down, kisses my shoulder. Her heavy boobs drape a
gainst my chest, drag soft as silk against my skin. I can’t not touch her, my hands sliding up and down her spine. But then she’s off me and on the floor in front of me, dragging at the legs of my pants until they come off, bringing my underwear with them part of the way. I lift up and she tugs both jeans and boxer-brief off at once, her mouth touching my thigh, the other thigh, and then my hip.

  “I don’t suppose you’re on birth control, are you?” I ask.

  “No,” she says, wrapping one hand around my dick. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t have any protection.”

  She pauses and looks up at me. “You don’t?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. I had three left in my toiletries bag, and I used them with you on Mackinac. I haven’t had a need for them since.”

  “You haven’t?”

  I shook my head. “No. I told you, there’s been no one since you, that night.”

  “For me either.”

  My eyes close involuntarily as her fist slides down my length. “We’re going to…need condoms,” I say between groans.

  She rolls her thumb over my head, and then plunges her fist down to the root, then drags it slowly back up. I glance at her, watch her as she stares at her own hand, at my cock, and she glances at my face. “So what do we do?”

  “I could go get some.”

  She shakes her head, and she’s leaning over me. “No. I don’t want you to leave me.”

  “It wouldn’t take long.”

  She twists her fist around me, and yes, she’s definitely closer, now. “That’d be too long.” She looks up at me. “Have your guy go get them for us. Oliver.”

  “You wouldn’t be embarrassed for him to know what we’re—”

  “I’m pretty sure he already does, Adam.”

  There’s no doubt, now. She’s leaning over me, my cock rock-hard and throbbing in both hands now, her fists sliding over me hand-over-hand, and she’s watching from an inch away.

  “Des?”

  She ignores me, reaches to the floor at her side and rummages in the pocket of my jeans, withdraws my cell and hands it to me. I let out a breath and then take the phone, bring up my text thread with Oliver.

  Need a huge favor, dude.

  He responds after a couple seconds. Would I find your favor in the family planning aisle?

  God bless Oliver. Yes.

  Ok. But I’m not sure you’re paying me enough for this.

  I’ll give you a raise.

  Sounds like you’ve got the “raise” aspect of things covered, boss.

  I will fire your ass so fast…

  LOL. Stop texting during foreplay. It’s rude.

  I toss the phone aside and return my attention to Des, who is utterly absorbed in her ministrations. Her hands move slowly up and down my length.

  “I want to taste you, Adam.” She leans even closer, her lips inches from me.

  “Des…”

  “I’ve never done it before, and I want to.”

  My breath catches in my lungs as her lips wrap around the head of my cock. Her mouth is warm and wet and I can’t help a groaning exhale of bliss leave me as she bobs down ever so slightly. My head falls back on the couch and I force my eyes open to watch her. Her mouth is spread wide around me, her eyes raised to look at me.

  She pulls back and I leave her mouth with a pop. “Was that okay?”

  I laugh. “Anything you do is amazing, Des. Just don’t bite, and it’ll feel incredible.”

  She moves back down, taking me into her mouth, her tongue swirling around my tip, tasting. Her hand is around the base, just holding, and then she strokes once and I unconsciously lift my hips. She lets out a sound of surprise, and then backs away, sucks once with her lips around the head, then lowers her mouth around me.

  “Jesus, Des. You’re gonna have to stop soon.”

  “Mmm-mmm—” She makes a negative sound, and then lifts her mouth off me, stroking me as she goes. “No way. You really like this, don’t you?”

  “God yes.”

  “More than fucking me?” she asks, and then her mouth is around me again and I can’t help groaning.

  “Hell no. Jesus—!” The last is an exclamation of surprise as she sucks hard and lowers her mouth around me until I’m sure it has to be uncomfortable.

  At that moment, I hear my front door open, and a small square package flies to land on the floor. I glance at it, and see that he’s bought extra small condoms. “Oliver, you asshole!” I try to sound normal.

  I hear his rasping laughter and then another package flies through the foyer to land beside the first, this time a package of condoms that will actually fit me.

  And then the door closes and he’s gone.

  When she heard the door open, Des paused and glanced toward the opening, to make sure he wasn’t going to show up. Once she hears the door close, she gives me a wicked grin and takes me in her mouth again. And this time, she shows no mercy. Her fist flutters up and down at the root of my cock, and her lips slide around my girth, going down and down, and then back up, and up, and now she’s set a rhythm, slow and steady.

  I’m having trouble holding still, holding back. “Des, stop.”

  I pull at her, but she takes my hands in hers, tangles our fingers. Her eyes go to mine as she bobs her head, watching me. I try to pull my hands free, but she doesn’t release them, holding tight and fighting against my grip. Her eyes show humor briefly, and then she’s going down on me harder and faster, and I know I can’t hold back.

  “Fuck, Des, I’m gonna come. You have to stop or I’m gonna—”

  She pauses with her lips wrapped around the head and sucks hard, and I know it’s hopeless. She moves our joined hands to her head, places my palms on her hair, and then takes my root in her fist and cups my balls in her hands. I tug her ponytail from the elastic band and feather my hands through her black locks, holding it away from her face. She bobs again, stroking my base and sucking.

  I’m gone.

  I cry out, unleashing suddenly, unable to warn her again, and she makes a sound of surprise, but doesn’t stop or slow down. I feel myself explode in her mouth, and she keeps bobbing, keeps caressing my length, and then I hear her gulp and I’m exploding still, groaning and trying desperately not to thrust too hard.

  And then I’m done and she’s letting me go, moving to straddle me, taking my face in her hands. “How was that?”

  I blink up at her blearily, woozily. “Jesus, Des.” I rest my forehead against her mouth. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “I know.”

  “But it was…I can’t even move.”

  She kisses me, and I taste myself on her, but I don’t care. She’s on top of me and I feel her core against my softening member, but her tits are brushing my chest and her mouth is insistent on mine and I’ve got her full hips in my hands, and I know it won’t be long before I’m ready for her, before I can take her the way I need her.

  * * *

  He stands up with me in his arms and carries me across the apartment, into the bedroom. Lays me down, plants a hand on the bed beside my face and kisses me while caressing my breast with his other hand.

  And then he’s gone, but only for a moment, returning with the package of condoms.

  My heart seizes, and my core goes damp.

  But he’s not ready for that yet. He rips the box open, pulls one square free and sets it aside, then sprawls out on the bed beside me. His hands trace my ribs beneath my tits, down, and find the edge of one of my tattoos. His eyes go to mine, and I see the question.

  I roll into him, resting a hand on his stomach, just above his nascent erection. “‘The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned,’” I recite. “Maya Angelou.”

  He nods. “I saw it when you were sleeping. What’s it mean to you?”

  I rest my head in the crook of his arm. “It’s just about…home. About belonging. I’ve never belonged anywhere. Growing up in the system, none of the pla
cements ever lasted more than a year at most, so there was never home. Everywhere I lived, it was just a house. A place to sleep. So that’s what I’ve always wanted more than anything, is to feel safe, and…to have a home.”

  He traces the tattoo on my hip. The scar beneath it. “And the scars the tattoos cover?”

  I close my eyes and bury my face in his skin. His arms curl around me, shelter me. Protect me. “I was sixteen. I’d just been moved to a new family. The dad was…bad. Real bad. On disability, wasted all the time. Got violent. Usually he only went after his wife, but every once in a while, he’d go after their daughter. Her mom would get between the girl and the dad. But once…he hit his wife too hard, knocked her out. Michaela, the daughter, started screaming. He was just…crazed. I don’t even know what the fuck got into him. I think he was a Desert Storm vet or something, maybe it was a flashback? I don’t know. There was this extension cord on the table, an orange one. Michaela went after her dad, and he knocked her to the ground. Just laid her out. And he grabbed the cord, started hitting her with it. It was long, and he just had a doubled-over section of it, about three or four feet long. He started hitting ’Chaela with the cord, and I just couldn’t let him—I couldn’t. So I laid over her, covered her. And he just kept hitting. I’d just gotten out of the shower, and all I had on was a towel. The towel fell off, and he just—kept hitting me. I don’t think he even knew what he was doing. Maybe he did. I don’t know. Part of me thinks he did know what he was doing, because he kept hitting me in the same place, over and over, and then he’d hit in a different spot. Left those fun scars.”

  “Fucking hell, Des.” Adam’s arms tighten, his lips touch my temple. “What stopped him?”

  “A neighbor. Heard the screaming, realized it was worse than usual, I guess. It took the neighbor and three cops to get me off Michaela. I wouldn’t let go of her.”

  “Des, god, babe.”

  I lift up and look at him, let him see into my eyes. “It’s fine, Adam. It was a long time ago. And honestly, I’d do it again, if I had to. Michaela is just the sweetest girl you’d ever meet. I stayed there…for her, even after that..”