Page 78 of Serving the Maestro

She pushed against my chest, the edge of the couch an inch or two behind me. I sank onto it, fisting my cock and stroking as I watched her.

Jazz came to straddle me.

I shook my head. “Panties off, or I’ll rip them.”

She slipped her hands under her skirt and shimmied her hips, a scrap of lace falling to the floor as she came to me.

She swung one leg over my hips. I groaned as she rubbed against me, the sweet, slick heat of her a decadent caress against my cock.

“Put me inside you,” I whispered as she rubbed my mouth against mine.

She did, and we groaned as she sank down, her pussy clamping tight around me.

My cock jerked.

Her body stiffened, and her spine arched forward to make her breasts strain against the confines of her pretty lace bra.

Unable to resist the offering, I dipped my head, licked the curve of one, and felt her harsh exhale. She shoved her hands into my hair. “More.”

“My pleasure.” Working the lace and silk cups down until her breasts were free, I took one nipple into my mouth, scraping my teeth over it gently.

“Trent!” Her strangled cry echoed through the empty apartment and bounced off the walls before coming back to me in a sweet refrain.

Hands going to her hips, I lifted her, then dragged her back down.

Her pussy spasmed around me, the milking sensation unbearably erotic.

My hands tightened on her hips, mouth more demanding as I sucked on her nipple.

Jazz whimpered and began to rock against me, her head falling back.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I said.

“Flattery will get you anything.” She curled her arms around my neck, her knees tightening until she embraced me with her entire body.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep—I just might try to collect.” I bit her lower lip.

“Collect what?” she asked, the words breathy against my lips.

“Everything. You. All of you.” I arched under her, thrusting upward as I dragged her back down, unable to get deep enough, unable to have enough of her.

Her eyes widened. But when her body started to clench and the orgasm hit, her first and me seconds later.

As the sensations swept over us, thought, reason and rationale were lost.

But the lingering warning hovered in the back of my mind.

“Everything. You. All of you.”

All of her—it was the only thing that would ever be enough for me now.

And I had no idea how to ask her for what I needed.

* * *

Hours later, over a delivery of Italian food that included the best damn bread I’d ever eaten and tiramisu that left Jazz moaning in a way that had my dick going hard, I debated how to ask her the questions burning inside me.

She saved me the trouble.

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