It takes some doing, but I gradually feel my legs again, and Trent makes light work of tearing my panties off but he carefully unhooks my bra, letting my swollen breast spill free.
His hands over my stiff nipples feel so good, like his mouth did yesterday only better, and with him, so deep inside me, I feel my head shaking from side to side as I toss my hair, unable to believe any of this is even possible.
Still kicking myself I didn’t just leap on him the first chance I got.
“You feel so good, Brooke,” Trent groans deeply.
I try to say something, but opening my mouth only lets out more of those same sounds he draws from me.
My legs fit just right on either side of him, his hard body under me supporting my weight as if I weigh nothing.
Trent’s right, compared to him I’m tiny, but we make a good fit slotted together like this.
Resting my hands on his large chest, I start to get into a rhythm by lifting myself up and down and with his silent instruction, I take to lovemaking like a duck to water.
I thought I would burst at the beginning but now that he’s inside me it’s like a whole new world of pleasure for us both but I can feel Trent’s hardness getting thicker inside me, and his breath quickens.
I slow my pace, sliding up and down his thick shaft slowly, relishing his touch outside and inside me.
He hums with satisfaction, moving his hands from my chest to my ass, kneading my cheeks apart and squeezing me hard with each stroke I make, sending tingles straight up my spine.
We stay locked like this for some time until I feel my own climax building as our eyes lock.
I know he’s close too, saving it for me.
Our fingers interlock with both our hands holding each other tight, the intensity of emotions just as strong as our arousal.
I want to tell him I’m coming, but I can only hear myself shout his name over and over, begging him to fill me with our babies.
His grip on me tightens as I start to shudder, my orgasm shattering me, feeling his seed fill me as his body tenses under me.
I’m his now, I know it. And I don’t want to ever be anyone else’s. He’s claimed what’s rightfully his and I’ve snagged myself the man of the century.
We belong to each other now, mind, body, and soul. And if my first time with Trent is this good, I have a very satisfying suspicion that it’s only going to be better and better every time.
We collapse into a sweaty bundle, and I’m surprised the bed has held us both when I hear the doorbell chime, followed by a loud knock.
I’m too spent to even care with the whole world the last thing on my mind right now until Trent pants that he might go check who it is.
That snaps me out of it, because I know he’s not kidding and the last thing I need right now is a huge naked man answering my front door.
“I’ll go,” I wheeze, patting his chest, urging him to stay put. “I’ll… go see who it is,” I tell him, almost falling over when I try to stand, smiling to myself as the pleasant ache I feel inside causes a warm glow in my chest.
My afterglow.
I grab my bathrobe from the back of my door and wrapping myself up, I pull the door open as whoever it is knocks for the third time.
Usually, I’d be timid about answering the door, frightened like I was last time I heard it pounding.
But something’s different now.
I feel different.
I’m a woman of the world with Trent as my equal.
I feel like I could do anything right now.
Except maybe walk straight.
My eyes blink from the sudden change in the light as I swing the door open, my free hand clutching my robe to my chest.
“Brooke! Are you alright? I heard noises, it sounded like you were screaming.”
I puff out a loud breath of air from my cheeks.
It’s our elderly neighbor, Mrs. Carter. She’s deaf as a post so I wonder just how much noise we were making for her to hear it, let alone come over and check up on me.
Something she’s never done.
“I’m fine, Mrs. Carter,” I explain loudly. “I just stubbed my toe, everything’s fine,” I repeat louder still, noticing her trying to look inside past me.
I pull the door a little more towards me, smile, and nod, waiting for her to go away, but she isn’t done.
“Didn’t sound like you stubbed your toe to me,” she adds with suspicion. “And whose car is that?” she adds, jerking a thumb towards Trent’s car.
“I really have to go, Mrs. Carter. I’m fine though, thanks for checking on me,” I practically shout again, closing the door in her face and making a beeline back to Trent, who’s doubled over with laughter on my bed.