Page 72 of Trucker
I found him stretched out on his back in my bed.
We only had a short while before he had to really leave but how can a man look so good doing nothing?
All he was doing was breathing.
Sun rays slithered through a crack in the curtain and played over his body as if even the sun had to touch him—to feel him, to make him look regal and strong.
“Mayson.”
He looked toward me and smiled.
I climbed on to sit astride him.
He clutched my hips then slid his large palms around to tap my ass cheeks.
“Mm?” He asked.
There was something about the way he grabbed my ass then my thighs that told me I belonged to him.
For the next little while, I made out with my man. I gave myself to him as much as I could without us getting carried away and him being late.
He touched me, tasted me, build me up—all the things I was told a man was supposed to do if he was worthy of me.
Sighing, I went down on him, pulling him to the back of my throat and listening to him growl.
When he tangled his fingers in my hair, I thought for sure I’d freak out.
Having his strong fingers like that on me, pulling my hair would have scared me with any other man. That action would bring up past hurts and flashes of my worse night would fill my mind. When that happened, the man would look at me as if I sprouted horns and run as far and as fast as he could go.
Granted—it was only one man.
One attempt.
But as the fear curled inside me, I settled the darkness by using his light.
I settled my fears by reminding myself that this man was Mayson Calhoune.
This man was the one I wanted to give myself to—that I wanted this—Icravedthis.
His husky voice rumbling over my name calmed me.
The way he took queues from my body, my reactions, my soft sounds that seemed to escape my throat, all of that made me feel as if I was in the safest place on earth.
Lifting my head to catch my breath, I dragged my tongue along his shaft to the head, licked around it and took him deep again.
Trucker was my first.
He was the first man I was ever this intimate with.
I’d tried with one man since that night.
But his scent never turned me on like this.
The sounds he made, the way he tasted.
In fact, his tasted turned my stomach in all the bad ways and before I told him I couldn’t, my demons were showing, and he was scrambling around the room for his clothes.
A small voice in the back of my head told me I should be ashamed. It told me that this was something I shouldn’t be doing and enjoying so much.
