Page 96 of Tourist Trap

"I would never get into trouble." Jaime glares at her, and she rolls her eyes. "I'm only going because I'm tired," she mumbles, and he smiles, pulling her into his side. That's when Miles lets go of my mouth and lifts me, carrying me over his shoulder, heading towards the exit.

He seems to really like doing that.

"Later. Let's do this again next time we're back in Evergreen," he says, and I realize my bag is looped over his other shoulder. "Or down at Seaside Point—I've got rooms for you guys to stay." Then he turns, and I wave at my sister and my friends.

That is, right before I shout, "Fuck on a lifeguard chair!" as we walk off.

"Jesus Christ, Claire," Miles groans, but he doesn't put me down as we leave the bar, and I could swear I feel the rumble of his laugh as we walk.

THIRTY-THREE

CLAIRE

The buzz from the few drinks I had at the bar only adds to the pleasure coursing through me as Miles fingers me.

His fingers pump into me as he hovers over me, and I’ve never been happier to be in a hotel room than right now as I moan out loud. Even though my parents repeatedly told us it was silly to stay in a hotel room for one night when my childhood bedroom was free, we did anyway for this exact reason.

Before I hit the edge I’m building toward, Miles pulls his fingers out, and I watch with misery, lust, and a little bit of awe as he puts them into his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan.

“Yeah, I’ve gotta eat that clean,” he mumbles to himself before he moves to his back next to me. He then rolls me over, shifting and positioning me to my knees, until I’m straddling his face. Instinctually, my hands move to the headboard behind us, gripping it for stability, then looking down my body at Miles before I groan.

The image could be hung in museums. His face framed by my thighs, his eyes heated with lust, lips tipped in the hottest smirk known to man…it’s a masterpiece. And then his hands go to my hips, thumbs against my hip bones, the others splayed over my ass.

“Ride my face, baby,” he says, then tugs me down onto his mouth.

“Fuck!” I shout as soon as his lips touch my sensitive clit.

His lips wrap around it, his tongue flicking and teasing me. The pleasure rockets through me as I ride his face as requested, his eyes locked on mine. His tongue moves, slipping into my pussy, fucking me, and I let out a deep moan.

“You’re so hot,” I say, leaning back just a bit so I can feel his tongue slide into me, his smile widening as his mustache scrapes along my swollen clit. “Oh, god!” I twine my fingers into his hair to hold him right where I need him as my hips move, taking what I need.

His fingers dig into the skin of my hips, helping my hips move as I buck against his face, and that alone does it. I’m falling, coming on his tongue as I moan his name. My body is still ricocheting with my orgasm when he slides his tongue out and moves from under me.

My hands still on the headboard as I try to come back to this universe.

He shifts around me on the bed, and when he’s behind me, there’s a quick pull on my hips to tug me back, my upper half falling to the bed. Then he positions me until my hips are up high, my knees and elbows in the bed, back arched deeply. The tip of his thick cock slides up and down my entrance before he slowly, so fucking torturously, slowly, starts to slide into me.

A pained groan leaves him, and I look over my shoulder at him. His hair falls to the side, and I see his eyes are focused on where he’s sinking into me, his jaw slack, tongue in his cheek.

I lied.

Thisis what I want a picture of. I want it plastered on every surface, burned into my brain, into a permanent spank bank material for me to use forever.

“You should see how you look, Claire,” he says low, his eyes never leaving my pussy, never leaving his cock sliding into me. “Taking me so perfectly. Spread around me. So fucking wet from my mouth making you come.”

The previous pleasure of that orgasm was long gone, a distant memory, but the need to come around him and total lust for this man are already taking over my body once more. It seems to be a constant state of being since we got together, if I’m being honest.

I thought it would fade, that the need that lives in my bones would start to ease, but it’s anything, it’s worsened. Everyday, I wake up wanting Miles more, remembering the new positions he twists me into, the new highs he brought me to.

It’s no different now, when he bottoms out in me, and we let out a mutual groan in pained pleasure. I’m so full, especially bent like this. I try to shift to my hands, but his hand on my back pushes me so I can’t.

“Stay down, baby. Let me see your ass work.”

I moan at his words, at the way the thumb of his other hand digs into my flesh, a bite of pain left in its wake. I do as he says, staying with my chest to the bed, arching my back further and shifting my hips so I’m fucking him, meeting him thrust for thrust, my fingers between my legs, sliding against my clit, then up to feel where he is sliding into me.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he says, then pulling out and slamming back in. “Let me see this ass move.”

I oblige, more than happy to take over. I shift my hips back and forth, rocking on him, falling myself and retreating, slamming back again. His hands are ghosts on my hips, there just to have a hold on me as I do all of the work, a frame for his own dirty fantasy. It builds in me as I fuck his cock, as I hear his groans of pleasure and adoration from behind me. A hand slides down my spine, then back up, tracing to my ass and the tight hole there. His thumb grazes over it, and my pussy tightens, my hips faltering.

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