Page 21 of The Trust
There are several makeshift walls made from pallets erected in the play space, the thick trunks of trees providing tons of ground coverage.
But what Jordan doesn’t realize—despite his experience as a trained bodyguard—is that video games and I get along real well.
Including first person shooters.
Which means while he’s covered in orange and blue splatters, the only thing coating my skin is sweat and paint I put there. A few droplets of splatter coat my glasses thanks to an innocent player that had no idea he was aiming at my boyfriend’s prey, but I’m otherwise untouched and grinning like a fool.
“It’s round three and I haven’t been tagged yet,” Jordan taunts. “You slowing down on me?”
Never.
I position the rifle, the barrel aiming right in line with where he’s about to walk.
“Tyro!” I sing-song and he spins my direction, firing off a shot that pings the tree trunk next to my head and explodes. “Got cha.”
The little ball sails through the air and bursts against his helmet.
“Vida, we said no headshots.”
Snickering, I roll out of my prone position while Jordan’s sight is compromised by the paint covering his glasses, and slink around to come up behind him. “Said you.”
He whips around, his glasses off while he attempts to clean them on his shirt, and he shakes his head. “You’re a menace.”
“Sure am,” I say with a grin. “But you love me anyway.”
The corners of his lips tip up and he reaches for me. “Fuck yeah, I do.” He pulls me into his chest, dropping the glasses and cupping the back of my neck.
And when his lips land on mine, my breath catches.
“I wanna shoot something else, Vida.”
My cock jerks to life in my pants.
“Okay,” I half moan into his mouth.
But then he’s grabbing me, tugging me along until we reach the end of the venue’s marked property and around one of the sturdier walls.
One look and he’s pressing me back into the wall. Kissing me. Reaching into his pocket and pulling out a packet I recognize.
“Oh,shit, you mean now.”
My breath stutters at the feral look on his face.
“Right. Now.”
“Oh, God,” I choke out when he grabs the shoulder of my vest and just when I think he’s going to strip it off, he uses it to spin me around. Press me into the wall.
Holds me still while he yanks my pants down just enough to expose my ass.
The telltale crinkle of foil ripping comes next, and I shiver.
“I’m so fucking hard, Vida,” he groans, his words accompanied by the sound of flesh slicking and my cock leaks. “I’m gonna use it to stretch you.”
I don’t get my teeth unhinged from my lip to ask what he means before something a lot thicker than fingers is nudging against my crack.
“Arch.”
Panting, I nod and tilt my hips back, spreading my legs as far as the pants will let me go.
