Page 38 of Hat Trick

Her words are as much a turn-on to my body as they are to my heart. “The kiss is yours,” I say, my gaze fixed on her flushed face. “When I see you, you’ll haveit.”

She answers by dragging one foot up onto the bed, leaning onto her elbow, completely exposing herself to the mirror, and to me, before touching her clit, just as I’dasked.

I’m not prepared for the eroticism of thesight.

I’m not prepared for the way my tight strokes on my cock pick upspeed.

I’m not prepared for the demands that spill from my mouth—I’ve always been dominant in the bedroom, but I’ve never been much of a dirty-talker. Hell, I generally leave the talking at thedoor.

But the sight of Gwen circling her clit with two fingers apparently seizes that side of me from the depths of my soul and yanks the poor bastard into the realworld.

“God, yes,” I growl, noting the way her toes curl and the camera shakes, ever so slightly. “Taste yourself, Gwen. Tell me what you tastelike.”

Her breathing is quick and loud, even over the chatline.

I don’t have to asktwice.

She sinks those two fingers into her heat, pumping once, before lifting them to her mouth for a single swipe of hertongue.

I groan, loudly, curses diving off my tongue. “Tell me,honey.”

“Sweet,” she says softly. “I tastesweet.”

“Good to know. The minute I see you, I plan to discover that formyself.”

My words must strike a chord of want in her because those two sweet fingers of hers return to her core, slipping inside and driving me insane. I never would have thought six years ago that my first sexual encounter with Gwen James would take place in a hotel room with her in a differentcountry.

Then again, I never would have thought that just the sight of her, with my imagination filling in all of the missing blanks, would be enough to make me orgasm,either.

I was wrong on bothcounts.

My groans mingle with herwhimpers.

My grip is so tight, so desperate to mimic the feel of her smaller hands, that my orgasm isn’t faroff.

“I need you to come before me.” My eyes eagerly track the way her fingers slick up her folds and land on her clit again. “Do you hear me,Gwen?”

Her head tips back against the bed. She’s completely lost to the sensations of her body climbing to the point of no return. I still hear her wry, “always a gentleman,”remark.

“A gentleman wouldn’t think about you swallowing every last drop as you sucked him dry, honey.” My voice grows uneven. “A gentleman wouldn’t . . . he wouldn’t want you to sit on his face as he made you come with just histongue.”

“Oh, myGod.”

Her pressure slackens, eases, then increases intempo.

The realization that she likes me talking dirty to her is like a shock to my spine. Far be it from me not to give her everything that shewants.

“A gentleman wouldn’t demand you come . . . and expect you to do so on hiscommand.”

“Marshall.” My name on her lips is part-reprimand, part-whimper.

I watch as her thighs twitch with the force of her orgasm, and it’s all I need. I thrust twice more into my hand, making sure that the camera is angled so she can see exactly what she does to me. With a groan, I squeeze the tip of my cock as my balls jack up. Hot jets of my come land on mystomach.

Fuckit.

Seriously, just . . . fuckit.

“Marshall?”

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