Page 44 of Trick's Trap

“Oh.”

Giggling nonsensically, Tahlia tilted her head. Though sheathed, his cock was rigid, rubbing against her pussy with teasing little strokes. Each movement sent a shock of pleasure pulsing through her.

“What do I do?” she whispered. Tahlia may have been a superior poker player, but here she was the novice.

“Wrap your legs around me.” Patrick fitted himself at her opening, pushing inside with a grim determination lining his face.

“You’re so wet this shouldn’t hurt that much,” he added, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

He was wrong. A different kind of burning consumed her as he flexed his hips, fighting the resistance of her untried body. Tahlia’s lips parted, her breath growing short as he drove his cock until he was flush to the hilt.

Her mouth gaped, shocked at the alien sensation. With no basis of comparison, she didn’t know if Trick was truly over-endowed, but his long, thick length filled her to capacity and slightly beyond.

“Are you okay?” Patrick’s voice was hoarse, his breathing as ragged as hers.

“I don’t know. You don’t seem to fit,” she said, wincing a little as he shifted minutely.

“No, baby. I fit perfectly. You’ll get used to me…starting now.” Trick’s hand moved down, kneading her clit with a sure rhythmic motion.

Underneath him, she jerked, electricity shooting through her. Patrick hissed as she clenched down on him. “I’m going to move now, baby. If it doesn’t get better, tell me to stop. Keep watching me.”

His hips lifted, retreating only a few inches before pushing back in. Then he did it again and again, until he was thrusting in and out at a steady rate.

The pain receded. She was still a bit sore, but there was another sensation now—almost as if he were tickling her. It wasn’t unpleasant.

Feeling warmer now, she moved her legs experimentally, tightening them around him. Almost instantly, the tickling became a ripple of pleasure as his cock hit a spot deep in her channel.

A moan rose from deep in her throat. She flexed her hips, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

“That’s it, Ace, sing for me.” Patrick’s voice wasn’t soft anymore. It was clipped and a little hard, which matched his pace as he quickened his thrusts.

She thought it would start hurting again, but each time his body met hers, she felt a pulse of heat. Each stroke built the pleasure, making her seethe and moan. She felt like a bowstring tightening, any moment she was going to break.

“Oh God, Patrick,” she panted, squirming uncontrollably as she wrapped her arms around his chest, clawing his back inadvertently as she began to lose control.

Her eyes were glued to him. She couldn’t tear her eyes away as his cock entered, pushing deep and then back out again. Each time he did, her body responded, pulsing as if clamoring for more.

He didn’t answer, but she could sense his satisfaction. It was in the way he kissed her, pressing his lips to her hairline as his body took and plundered, staking a primal claim she could feel in her blood.

Tahlia forgot all about the long lonely years of sexual repression in a burning flash of sensuality. She rocked in time to Patrick’s thrusts, glorying in his warmth and the rough silk of his skin. Heart beating in time to their rhythm, she ground against him, trying to bring them close enough to meld into each other.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. She was as hungry and as wickedly greedy as the man possessing her, both straining to satisfy a hunger months in the making.

The explosion came without warning. Her body seized, clamping down tight on Patrick’s as the violent spasms splintered her senses. She clung to him as he swore, pumping hard and fast, grinding against her. He let go with a shout, totally free and abandoned as liquid warmth flooded her pussy.

He collapsed over her, a sheen covering his heaving chest. A few short pants later, he rolled, taking her with him. She landed on his chest, still intimately connected to him.

“Holy heavenlyshit,” he muttered before turning to her. “Are you all right?”

Tahlia could still hear her heartbeat. It was almost thrumming loud enough to drown out his voice. “I think you killed me.”

“You’re kidding, right?” He laughed, still panting. “I thought you were supposed to be a novice. A rank amateur—and you destroyed me.” Sobering, he ran his fingers over her hair. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

She took stock before answering. There was a slight burning in her sheath, but overall, she felt great. This pleasant lethargy was new.Is this what people referred to as being spent?

“I’m a little sore, but nothing of note.” A smile teased her lips. Patrick was glowing with sweat, and he wore a slightly dazed expression. “So I did well?”

Patrick’s hand tightened into a fist in her hair. “Let’s put it this way…I’m never letting you go.”

---