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Kylie
Trent erupted into my mouth like a geyser, and it was all I could do to keep my mouth down over his dick and not pull back out of sheer surprise.
I swallowed and swallowed and swallowed as he shot rope after rope of his warm, thick load into my mouth, his cock twitching like a hard muscle each time.
“Fuck!” he growled, his hand tightening in my hair with such force I was sure he was going to tear some out of my head. “Take my cum, baby!”
I’d never felt more wanted in my life.
Trent’s pure dominance and control over me was simply overpowering. As I swallowed and watched his chest heave as he gasped for air, I realized what I’d been missing out on.
His dick pulsed one last time and I squeezed his shaft, milking the last of his sweet nectar out of him and onto my tongue before he tilted his hips back and pulled out. I thought he’d start to go soft—that’s what guys did, right?
But he didn’t.
In fact, he somehow looked harder than he was before. I knew that was impossible, of course, but his erection sure wasn’t going down.
“Goddamn, baby,” he growled, stretching his powerful arms above his head, showing off his incredible physique as he moved. “You are fucking amazing.”
“Yeah?” I asked timidly. I felt my cheeks blushing. “Did it…feel good?”
“Is that a joke?” he asked, leaning in. “That felt amazing. I can’t believe it’s your first time.”
My heart pounded as my body trembled beneath him. I was shaking from the pure satisfactio
n of having pleased him. It was a feeling I’d never felt before.
Trent Baron had turned my world upside down. Not only had he gotten me to strip down in front of him and lay myself bare, presenting everything I had to him, but he’d also done things to me that no man had ever done before.
The man I’d first thought was an asshole was starting to mean something else to me. I was feeling something deep inside me that I’d also never felt before. For a moment, I wanted to embrace it, throw myself into his arms, and tell him everything about myself.
But then it came into my mind.
Doubt.
It spread through me like acid. Was I really this naïve? I mean—this was Trent Baron—a professional football player with a private jet and millions of dollars. Was I really dumb enough to think that I was the first girl he’d pulled this sort of thing with before?
“Hey,” he said softly. “Where are you right now?”
I realized I’d let my head drop and was now hiding behind a curtain of curls. Gently, he lifted my chin with a finger and I looked up to see him looking at me with possessive intent.
“I’m—I’m right here,” I replied.
“No you’re not. You’re somewhere else.”
I blinked quickly.
Can he read my mind?
“I’m right here, Trent—”
“No,” he repeated firmly. “You’re thinking something and what you’re thinking is wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re thinking that because I’m a big football star that this isn’t special to me,” he said. “You’re thinking that I must do this kind of thing all the time.”
He can read my mind!
