Page 90 of The Perfect Love

Every curve of my body is pressed against his hard muscles, my lips fused to his like I need them more than my next breath. And I might. I really fucking might.

I swear, kissing him breaks my brain, and needing more air is irrelevant. All I need is more of Trevor.

Slowly I roll my hips over him, breath hitching in my throat at the friction. I’m horny all the time these days with how badly I want him. I can’t even give him a chaste kiss without feeling a little hot and bothered. My toy collection has been getting a workout, and I’m all too aware of how many times he’s left my apartment with a boner. It’s hard not to feel bad, but he’s insistent that it’s not my responsibility to take care of his needs—even if he and his hand are getting friendlier than ever.

Then my mind conjures up that image. Him lying in bed, stroking himself.

My stomach whirls—not because it makes me uncomfortable, because it makes me hot. And because suddenly, I really,reallywant to see how that image plays out. The noises he makes. The expression as he…

Whoa.

Do I want to do that with him right now?

Do I want to be the one to touch him like that?

I’m not sure. Which means no.

But I want to see it. I want to…

I roll my hips over him again, that delicious bulge hitting all the right spots. I’m not ready to do that in front of him yet. But maybe…

I roll my hips again, and again, then his hands land on my hips.

“Chels.” His voice is raspy with barely restrained need. “You need to stop or I’m going to—”

I kiss him hard again, then barely lift my lips off his. “What if I want you to?”

His eyebrows lift like he’s about to argue, but then he really looks at me. He sees the vulnerability on my face, and that I’m still in control, and he understands what I’m asking. For him to go first.

In answer, he leans in and sucks on my neck.

More exchanged trust.

With his lips next to my ear, he rumbles, “You want to take care of me, gorgeous? Want to hear how I say your name when I come?”

Holy dirty talk.

“Yes.” My voice is so breathy it’s almost a whine.

“Then I’m all yours.”

I stare at him for a second, then take his lips in a rough, possessive kiss. He wraps his arms around my back, holding me steady as I take control and grind against him.

He gives in to our kisses, groans spilling out as I drag him toward the edge. The warmth of intoxicating power floods me as I watch him, the twist of pleasure on his face, his hazy, hooded eyes. Because of me.

Not only am I safe, not only am I in charge, but I get to take care of him.

I fist his hair as I move faster, and I know the moment he’s getting close. His muscles tighten and he breathes out my name again.

I rip my mouth from his and stare down at him, at his swollen lips and begging eyes. Then I move my hips again, harder, faster, until his hands come to my hips and he holds me in place.

“Oh, fuck…”

His eyes slip closed, his lips parting as his orgasm tears through him.

And as I continue to grind, I feel the warmth of him pulsing under me.

He pulls me closer and buries his face in my neck. “Holy fuck, baby.”

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