Page 40 of Trailer Trash

Damn, she’s a good time — wild.

Then her entire body locks.

Her pussy clenches around my finger. A sharp gasp tears from her throat, followed by a helpless tremor that runs through every inch of her. She collapses against me, her forehead dropping onto my chest as the last pulses roll through her.

What the hell was that?

I chuckle softly. “Hold up. Did you just cum?”

Her breath is slightly ragged against my skin. She presses her lips to my neck, giving needy little kisses. Once, twice, then stops.

Slowly, she sits up dazed, and stares into my eyes. Her eyebrows knit together, her expression mortified. It’s as if she just received terrible news.

“I have to go.”

“Harlow,” I growl as she tries to slide off my lap.

I grip her hips, but she keeps fighting.

“I mean it,” she exhales sharply, panicked. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

“What’s wrong?” I keep my voice low and steady, desperately trying to calm her.

I guess even drunk-Harlow is difficult, because she flings herself backward like a wild banshee, disappearing into the water. I tie my trunks as fast as I can and rush after her. She’s out of the pool and running through the patio door. Keysha tails her.

“Harlow! Stop! What’s the matter?” Keysha calls.

We both catch up with her in the living room. She flings open the front door and looks back.

“I had sex with Killian!” Harlow cries.

We didn’t.

I furrow my brow, confused.

“I got off!” she clarifies in a devastated tone, as if that’s the worst thing in the world. Her phone shakes in her hand as she swipes, frantic. “I’m ordering a ride home.”

“I’ll take you,” I say, then approach cautiously.

“No, no!” She taps her phone. “Ride ordered. He’s close!”

“Why are you being like this?” I snarl.

She points at me with authority. “You are my patient!”

“Quit with that ethics shit. We’re past that.”

I take another step forward. She takes two steps back. Keysha intervenes, slipping between us.

“Back the fuck up. She doesn’t wanna talk to you right now.”

I squint, looking past her friend.

“Harlow. Come on,” I beg shamelessly.

She slips through the front door. I shove past Keysha, who tries but fails to stop me.

The car idles under a streetlight. Harlow says something to the driver, leaves the back door open, then jogs toward me.