Page 46 of The Fangirl and the Grump

And Jesus, how did I not notice how bright it was in here before? Trace is going to see every stretch mark on my thighs, stomach, and ass. Will they gross him out like they did…

No. Not thinking of that asshat right now.

Trace makes some noise deep in his chest that snaps me back to the present. I lift my head to locate him beside the bed, looking down at me with absolute focus. I watch as his gaze slides over every inch of my body like he’s cataloguing a series of screenshots to pull out and pore over later.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he grits out between clenched teeth before he rips his shirt over his head and tosses it aside. “Take your bra off, baby.”

I obey without question as he unbuckles his belt and pulls it free of his pants in one smooth motion. As I toss the stretchy garment aside and fall back against the mattress, Trace continues to eat me alive with his eyes as he ditches his pants and underwear.

My fingers move to my nipple, plucking it as my eyes travel down the length of him. His shoulders are broad, his pecs defined, and while his abdomen is muscular, it’s not cut like a washboard with zero body fat. No, Trace has some meat on his bones, and I’d like to gnaw on––

“What the fuck is that?” I squeal before I can stop myself.

His entire body stiffens as he rears back, saying, “What?”

“That,” I say, pointing toward the mammoth appendage between his thighs.

“My cock?” he asks, looking thoroughly confused as his hand wraps around the hard length.

“Jesus, your fingers barely touch. No fucking way are you putting that ginormous thing anywhere near my poor, unsuspecting vagina,” I say, scooching up the bed on my back.

I’m only half-joking as a rush of equal parts fear and anticipation floods my system. He’s fucking huge, much bigger than any cock I’ve experienced before. There’s no way it’s going to fit.

No.

Fucking.

Way.

Trace laughs at the comical horror on my face, releases his cock and wraps his fingers around my ankles.

“I’ll tell you what.” He pulls me back toward him, then releases me to peel my underwear down my legs. Cupping my mound, he grinds against my clit with the heel of his palm. “I’m going to lick and suck this sweet pussy until you scream my name. Then you’ll come again on my fingers. You’ll be so drenched and so relaxed, myginormouscock will slide right in, but if at any time you feel uncomfortable with it, say the word, and we’ll stop. No questions. No complaints. Deal?”

“Deal,” I groan as pleasure floods through me, whatever fear I felt forgotten.

Moving his hands to my thighs, he pushes them apart and dips down to blow a cool breath over my sex. I shiver in response, then groan as his tongue glides along my slit.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he murmurs against my flesh as his fingers spread me open.

“Oh, shit,” I gasp when his tongue finds my clit, stroking it in lazy circles.

He’s in no hurry to finish me off and get to his own pleasure. Hell, if the humming noises he’s making down there are any indication, tasting meisfor his own pleasure.

Another first for me.

Carter used to lap like he couldn’t––

Fuck. Stop.

There’s no room for thoughts of that fucker here.

“You okay?” Trace lifts his head and asks like he could feel my lady bits recoiling at the mere thought of my ex.

“Yep. All good. Don’t stop,” I say between choppy breaths.

He dives back in without further question or comment, his lips sucking at my clit gently as he slides a single, thick finger deep inside me. Pumping the digit slowly, he works me over with his tongue. My body tenses as my orgasm builds, and as if he can feel the energy coiling inside me, Trace pulls his finger free and adds a second before pushing back in.

The stretching sensation is almost too much, and that slow build I had going on skyrockets into an explosion that has me screaming toward the ceiling. Trace continues to lap at my clit as moisture floods my channel, allowing his fingers to slip in and out easily.

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