Page 22 of Serving the Maestro

Pushing two fingers into her, I bit back a curse, concentrating on how her hips lifted, how she fisted her hands in the blanket, the sharp, single cry that escaped before she buried her face against the bed.

Lust tore at me, sharp and demanding, and I held onto control with desperation. Working her closer to the edge, I cataloged each moan, each sigh, noting what made her voice break and hips shudder and twitch as if the coming orgasm might send her flying into a thousand pieces.

Then she was there—right there on the verge.

I stopped.

She cried out in frustration.

“Shhh,” I murmured, stroking my hand down the soft curve of her ass.

With my other hand, I pulled out my wallet, and found the condom I’d stashed earlier. I’d had some random thought of trying to hit up one of the private clubs and see if I could get in as someone’s plus one for the night. The idea hadn’t been all that enticing, but now I was glad I’d thought ahead because it meant I didn’t have to go far to find a rubber.

In seconds, I had it on, and I looked up, and saw Jazz pushing onto one elbow, reaching back with her other hand as if searching for me.

I caught her wrist in one hand, held it tight for a second, then released her.

She gasped, her spine bowing up as I pressed the head of my cock to her cunt. “Trent!”

I gripped her hip and held her still as I thrust.

She bounced up onto her toes as the sudden, deep penetration.

I tangled my hand in her hair, keeping my grip tight so she couldn’t go back down to the bed. The soft, surprised whimper of female pleasure was like music. I leaned in and pressed my lips to her ear. “Open your eyes, Jazz.”

She did, but it was slow, her lashes fluttering until she finally looked at our reflection with a passion-drugged gaze.

Still gripping her silken hair in my fist, I withdrew. She whimpered, tightening the muscles in her pussy as if that could hold me inside.

The milking sensations were an erotic caress bordering on the sublime, but I didn’t give in to the urge to stay locked inside her.

She twisted and moaned, trying to move back on me, and I rewarded her with a deeper, harder thrust that brought another moan to her lips.

“More,” she pleaded, her eyes seeking mine in the mirror again.

“More...” I bent closer again and pressed my mouth to her ear. “Harder? Faster?”

“Yes!”

I let go of her hair and gripped both hips.

As she went lax and fell forward onto the bed, I slammed into her. The keening cry and the way she called out my name were almost as delicious as how she yielded her body to me.

The orgasm slammed into her, her entire body flushing a soft pink.

As she shuddered from it, I gave in and dropped the reins of control, my climax powerful enough to leave me shaking, to make me forget everything but the woman quivering against me.

* * *

“That was...wow.”

Jazz snuggled against me, her head tucked under my chin, her body soft and warm.

I’d never been one for cuddling, but I wasn’t feeling any urge to hurry along. All I wanted at that moment was to catch my breath and let her do the same—all so I could fuck her again.

Preferably with her on her knees, hands behind her back. Or maybe spread-eagle, bound, open and vulnerable to me.

“What would you say if I told you I was into bondage?”

---