Sex Retreat(43)

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Cash slapped his hands against the slick shower wall. He glanced down at the tile floor, eying the beautiful blonde looking up at him.

“Here you go, sugar,” he drawled, pretending he was Brock Sheldon.

He rubbed his cock over the cool, smooth texture, trying to change his stance while aiming his tip toward her lips. “That’s my girl. Open that mouth. Wide. Right. Wider.”

No, he thought. Brock wouldn’t have done it like that.

He grabbed for her hair, securing a handful and yanking her head back like Rory had done earlier when he’d watched the two of them fucking. He glared into her eyes and realized he needed to soften his approach when the image he captured was one filled with fright rather than love, like what he’d witnessed on her face when she’d been in bed with Rory.

Forcing his lips to roll over his teeth, he closed his mouth and grunted, pushing the weight of his cock against the small opening. “There, baby mama. Oh yeah. Hmm huh. That’s good. Close your mouth tighter.”

He thrust his hips forward and back, screwing that blonde mouth as hard as he could, only somewhere in the harrowing depths of his imagination, he knew the mouth he fucked was only an empty, hollow hole. “Now, damn you!”

He pushed harder and harder, thrusting his hips back and forth. His release was trapped in the base of his shaft. He could feel his cum burning his prick and he tried harder, slamming his head against the wall and pushing with everything he had inside him.

“Fuck me with your mouth, bitch!” he screamed, pounding harder and harder, wishing he could make her close her mouth, wishing that hollow hole would swallow him, lick at his slit, and lavish him with oral affection.

Instead, the hole remained unresponsive and too wide for a good fuck. He squeezed his eyes shut and imagined Trixie on her knees again. Her breasts were full. Her eyes were heavy. She licked her lips and giggled as she dragged her fingers up and down his length, complimenting him on the size of his cock, telling him how much she wanted to fuck him.

“You will, lover,” he said, cupping the cheek that wasn’t really there. “Just finish me and I’ll come to you, I swear it.”

At that moment, he heard pounding. Fuck! There was a storm brewing. Not a cloud in the sky, but loud thunder in the distance.

“Hurry, bitch! Suck my cock, pretty baby mama.” He remembered the way she’d ridden on top, the way she’d locked her hands behind her head and her curvaceous body had undulated as she’d begged for more.

She would soon grovel for his cock as well.

He slammed against the wall and imagined the tight squeeze of her pussy. Then, when he knew the end was near, he moved closer to the tiled opening, pushing his cock inside the wide curve of the soap dish.

“Ah yes! Yes, fucking yes! Trixie! Baby! Oh yes, baby!”

He collapsed against the shower tiles seconds later. His breathing was ragged, his cock wilted, and his satisfaction far from complete.





Chapter Twenty




“You should’ve gone with them,” Trixie said, following Mitch into his apartment.

“Want something to drink?” he asked, going to the kitchen bar.

“Vodka and orange juice.”

“You know how I feel about you and alcohol.” His gaze dripped over her like melted dark chocolate.

She allowed herself the same luxury, remembering the feel of those bronze muscles flexing under her fingertips. Mitch was a walking orgasm waiting to squeeze out sensational multiples. A woman could look at him and become aroused. She could kiss him and find herself addicted.

He possessed haunting good looks, and his tall, dark, and handsome appeal didn’t stop with the hard body and gorgeous smile. His talents were in the bedroom and he damn well knew it.

“I’d like a drink, Mitch,” she said firmly. The confidence she’d demonstrated quickly diminished when she walked to the bar, picked up a glass, and immediately dropped it.

Mitch darted forward just in time to scoop up the tumbler before the glass shattered into bits. He quickly set the glass aside and before she knew what hit her, he grabbed her by the wrist, pulled her against him, and smothered her mouth with his, that wicked tongue of his pressing through her lips as he kissed away her apprehensions and further fed her longing.

Bunching her hair in his hands, he broke their kiss, and in a breathless whisper, he said, “God, I’ve missed you, baby.”

Trixie was overwhelmed. So much had happened in the last forty-eight hours. The past few weeks were a blur as well. How many days had she spent looking for him? How often had she picked up the phone to call the prison warden to find out if Mitch had left a forwarding address?