Page 8 of Unleashed

To my dismay, Trevor seems to know it too.

He smirks as I suck in another breath when that delicious curve I spotted earlier finds its mark. “Careful. You keep making sounds like that and I’m going to think you like taking my cock.”

I will never admit it—not even under threat of death—but I might not hate the way Trevor Bradshaw fucks. He might’ve gotten off to a rocky start, but the man is nothing if not a solution finder. I see it all the time at the office, so it doesn’t really surprise me it would carry over into his personal life.

Not that I think he has a personal life. Pretty sure this guy is as one-sided as it gets. All work and no play.

It’s why he’s such a dull boy.

Trevor shifts his hips again, pressing me a little higher on the wall, and giving himself greater field of motion. It also makes it possible to support my weight with only one hand.

The other comes to the neckline of my dress. The deep V cut means he barely has to tug at all to expose my breasts. They’re not big and bountiful, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Actually, based on the deep rumbling groan he lets out as one nipple disappears between his lips, Trevor might even like them.

And I have to admit, I like that he likes them. A lot.

Each flick of his tongue and pulse of suction winds me up tighter and tighter. Until I’m right on the cusp of getting what I want.

Trevor pulls his mouth free of my body, his attention coming back to my face. He pauses, body fully impaling mine, rocking his hips in a way that gives my clit the full contact it needs. And sending me right over the edge.

It feels so fucking good, I lose myself for a minute, forgetting to keep any sounds I’m making to a minimum. Before I can be loud enough to bring attention our way, Trevor’s mouth seals over mine, swallowing down the moan sliding free.

I didn’t expect there would be kissing during this interaction, but I don’t hate the demanding way Trevor’s lips steal my breath, or the taste of bourbon clinging to his tongue. He’s actually not terrible at this. If he manages to keep his mouth shut about it, I might even be up for a repeat performance. One where I can put a little more of my own skills on display.

Trevor’s movements lose a little of their smoothness and his mouth pulls from mine. He buries his face in my neck, growling out a ragged fuck as he bucks against me, gripping my ass so hard it’s going to leave bruises.

And since I’m a dirty, dirty girl, the thought of seeing them later has me clenching around him as an aftershock ripples through me. Trevor groans again, his hips flexing in response to the squeeze of my pussy.

I’m feeling pretty fucking good, basking in the afterglow of a pretty decent orgasm, when the door swings open and Ruth barges in. She stops short and stares at us, open-mouthed.

I stare back, because what the fuck else am I gonna do? I’m still pinned to the wall, dangling midair with Trevor balls deep in my pussy.

Without a word, she spins away, slamming the door behind her.

Trevor’s head falls back on a groan that is way less sexy than the ones earlier. “She’s gonna fucking kill me.”

“If she hasn’t murdered you already, I think you’re in the clear.” I wiggle. “Put me down. I’ve got shit to do.”

He lowers me to the floor, holding on until I swat his hands away.

Going to the water closet, I pull a strand of toilet paper loose, wadding it up to wipe the bulk of his mess from between my legs before flushing it down. I turn to find Trevor watching me with a scrutinizing gaze.

I lift my brows. “What? I’m not walking around with your jizz running down my legs.”

“I was thinking we probably should have discussed the need for precautions.”

I walk past, shoving him back with one hand as I go. “I’m on the pill.” I grab my bag from where I dropped it in the corner, opening it by one handle before beginning to haphazardly cram in my hair tools. “And I’m more than happy to forward you my medical records if you’re worried about something else.”

Trevor huffs out a laugh. “I wasn’t worried.”

“I don’t actually care.” When all my curling irons are in place, I drop in brushes, combs, and styling products.

“Aren’t you worried about yourself?” Trevor sounds genuinely confused.

Which is almost cute.

But only almost.

I snort as I add the last few items to my bag and zip it up. “I’ve met you, Trevor. You are fucking meticulous when it comes to your body.” I straighten, slinging the bag over one shoulder. “So, no. I’m not worried.” I step toward the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta bounce.”