Page 112 of Small Town Hunter

“I can go to school here, same as California. I can live with you!”

“You don’t want to live here, Trina, I swear. It’s a pretty place, but there’s things under the surface that…” I’m mucking it up. I think about what I just heard of Roman McCall, but that’s not a conversation I can have with Trina right now. A lot of things are about to change in Florin, and maybe not for the better.

She pulls back and I gently wipe her tears away. She’s usually good at holding them in, another thing I love about her.

“You’re the only man I ever want, Crash.”

“We shouldn’t touch like this,” I say hoarsely. “I ought to wait until you know for sure what you want.”

“I’m not going to wait another year,” she says. “And you’re what I want.”

She takes my hand and puts it up her soft knit dress. And that’s when I realize —

“Trina Whiteleaf,” I say, strangled. “Where the hell are your panties?”

“In the drawer,” she says innocently.

“You – you went to church with no underwear.”

“I never wear panties when I’m gonna see you,” she whispers.

Whenever I swear I have Trina figured out, she pulls some shit like this.

“You’re asking for it now.”

Her wide pretty eyes say,duh.

“I’ll make love to you, but you need to give me something,” I tell her, jerking at my belt.

“What do you want?” she murmurs, and her pretty soft lips envelop mine.

Our tongues lock; she was always so damned good at kissing.

“A yes,” I growl at her.

“Yes.Yes, yes, yes.”

Belt open. Zipper down. I pull myself out and shove up her dress. She’s taking me bare; no ifs or buts.

“What else do you want?” she gasps. “I’m feeling generous.”

“Every day I want you in my bed.”

“Okay,” she moans as I slide in. She’s as tight as the day I took her virginity. And it’s better. So much better, ‘cause there’s nothing between us now.

Nothing but the silky slide of her body accepting mine.

Here it comes, the dark urge to secure her answer with something deep and true. And Trina’s just the type to…if I was to flood her…Behave, Walker. Behave.

Not yet, not yet.

“What else?” she moans.

I thrust deep. “Finish school. With a good degree. Not baking or the philosophy of gender or that– bullshit.”

“Promise,” she whimpers, tightening her arms around my neck. When I nudge her, she rolls her hips obediently. And then…again. She starts to ride me, her cunny tight and sticky all over my rod. A big churning load in my balls, meant for her. All that extra weight she’s pushing…

I picture her thick thighs keeping me nice and sealed up where it needs to be.

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