at the rim of the astoundingly sexy running pants he wore, pushing them down to his muscled thighs. Through the slit in his boxers she found what she needed so desperately, wrapping her greedy fingers around his erection instantly.
“Yes,” he moaned, then lifted her free leg to wrap around his waist.
His lips were on hers, hot and demanding as she fondled him, rubbing her fingers over the tight tip of his arousal then stroking downward.
“That’s right,” he mumbled, “take what you want.”
And that she did. When stroking him was no longer enough, her body so hot and eager to take him totally, Tia guided his rigid sex to her weeping center, flexing her hips to take him in. Trent followed her lead by pushing the thin wisp of her thong aside and thrusting so that he filled her in one quick movement.
She threw her head back until it gently hit the wall and she sighed. Trent’s forehead dropped to her shoulder as they both kept completely still for a second…two…then three.
Her entire body was trembling, her muscles clenching around his arousal as if to hold on to him forever. Her nails dug into his shoulder and Tia prayed for strength, for oxygen, for anything to keep this moment from ending. Never had she desired a man like this, needed his touch, to keep her mind focused. She’d known it would be this way between them and, truth be told, had been afraid of it. Trent was right, it had happened that first day at the fashion show. The moment she stepped up on the stage and he’d taken her hand, the sparks had begun to fly.
She’d avoided his phone calls for just this reason. Trent Donovan was a powerful man. Not just in his military training or his hefty bank account, but in his allure over women. Surrounding him was this aura of masculinity that was like an aphrodisiac to any woman with a pulse. And she had been no exception.
He began to move inside her, thrusting his hips so that those sexy hollows in his buttocks were pronounced. Yes, in addition to his mouthwatering looks, Trent had a butt that male models would die for. She’d spied it last night and now moved her hands down his strong back to cup them in her hands. He was hard everywhere, tight and tempting and for the moment, all hers.
Chapter 7
T rent couldn’t believe this. He was not taking her in a stairwell. It couldn’t be.
He was a grown man. He was educated and privileged and dammit, he had a house with a huge bed. So why did he have this woman plastered to this wall, pounding into her like a horny high schooler ready to scream with the powerful release he could feel building in the base of his spine?
Because she was Tia St. Claire.
And he loved being inside of her. The two times he’d taken her last night had hardly been enough. This had to be the fastest growing addiction on record. One night and he couldn’t get enough. Even now, as his length moved in and out of her, coated with her sweet honey, clenched by her tightening muscles, he wanted more.
She held his buttocks firm in her hands, pushing him in deeper, holding him steady as he pulled out, whispering in his ear as he sank back in.
“Yes, Trent. More.”
The words were a sweet melody in his ear. Not that he hadn’t heard them before, but all the other female voices that had bounced around in his head over the years had mysteriously disappeared. There was only one voice now, one woman.
He gave her what she asked for, lifting her other leg and crossing her legs behind his back. Now cupping her buttocks Trent drove into her with his intense desire. Her head fell back, her mouth open as she panted and moaned. He licked her neck, loving the honey-toned skin. Her breasts were bound in the fitted sports bra she wore but he had only to close his eyes and he saw them bared, moving and bouncing with the rhythm he’d created.
She was perfect. This moment was perfect. Regardless of where they were, being inside her, about to release into her was absolutely
“Yes,” he moaned, then lifted her free leg to wrap around his waist.
His lips were on hers, hot and demanding as she fondled him, rubbing her fingers over the tight tip of his arousal then stroking downward.
“That’s right,” he mumbled, “take what you want.”
And that she did. When stroking him was no longer enough, her body so hot and eager to take him totally, Tia guided his rigid sex to her weeping center, flexing her hips to take him in. Trent followed her lead by pushing the thin wisp of her thong aside and thrusting so that he filled her in one quick movement.
She threw her head back until it gently hit the wall and she sighed. Trent’s forehead dropped to her shoulder as they both kept completely still for a second…two…then three.
Her entire body was trembling, her muscles clenching around his arousal as if to hold on to him forever. Her nails dug into his shoulder and Tia prayed for strength, for oxygen, for anything to keep this moment from ending. Never had she desired a man like this, needed his touch, to keep her mind focused. She’d known it would be this way between them and, truth be told, had been afraid of it. Trent was right, it had happened that first day at the fashion show. The moment she stepped up on the stage and he’d taken her hand, the sparks had begun to fly.
She’d avoided his phone calls for just this reason. Trent Donovan was a powerful man. Not just in his military training or his hefty bank account, but in his allure over women. Surrounding him was this aura of masculinity that was like an aphrodisiac to any woman with a pulse. And she had been no exception.
He began to move inside her, thrusting his hips so that those sexy hollows in his buttocks were pronounced. Yes, in addition to his mouthwatering looks, Trent had a butt that male models would die for. She’d spied it last night and now moved her hands down his strong back to cup them in her hands. He was hard everywhere, tight and tempting and for the moment, all hers.
Chapter 7
T rent couldn’t believe this. He was not taking her in a stairwell. It couldn’t be.
He was a grown man. He was educated and privileged and dammit, he had a house with a huge bed. So why did he have this woman plastered to this wall, pounding into her like a horny high schooler ready to scream with the powerful release he could feel building in the base of his spine?
Because she was Tia St. Claire.
And he loved being inside of her. The two times he’d taken her last night had hardly been enough. This had to be the fastest growing addiction on record. One night and he couldn’t get enough. Even now, as his length moved in and out of her, coated with her sweet honey, clenched by her tightening muscles, he wanted more.
She held his buttocks firm in her hands, pushing him in deeper, holding him steady as he pulled out, whispering in his ear as he sank back in.
“Yes, Trent. More.”
The words were a sweet melody in his ear. Not that he hadn’t heard them before, but all the other female voices that had bounced around in his head over the years had mysteriously disappeared. There was only one voice now, one woman.
He gave her what she asked for, lifting her other leg and crossing her legs behind his back. Now cupping her buttocks Trent drove into her with his intense desire. Her head fell back, her mouth open as she panted and moaned. He licked her neck, loving the honey-toned skin. Her breasts were bound in the fitted sports bra she wore but he had only to close his eyes and he saw them bared, moving and bouncing with the rhythm he’d created.
She was perfect. This moment was perfect. Regardless of where they were, being inside her, about to release into her was absolutely
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