Trace of Fever
Page 80
Trace heard the door close and he felt like a bastard, like a molester, like a weak idiot with no morals and no backbone.
Drugs were a real son-of-a-bitch.
Priss had been through her own kind of hell. She deserved his attention, his comfort. But he had no control at all. Hell, even now, knowing his lack of control to be true, he couldn’t seem to pull back from her.
Her hand slid over his shoulder, down to his side. “Trace?” She kissed his ear. “This might be easier on the bed.”
He groaned again, his body straining, racked with need.
Feeling her smile on his temple, he heard her whisper, “Or not.” And then she moved, gliding against his cock, and even through layers of material, it was enough to devastate him.
“Wait.” The single word sounded like sandpaper. Trace fought for a breath, then another. But he would not come in his pants like a green kid. “I can’t…I won’t do this.”
“No?”
He wanted her to understand, but he was short on words and long on need. “Not to you.”
She went still, and Trace geared himself up for a variety of reactions. Then she wiggled, and he let her free even though it almost killed him. When her feet touched the floor again, she didn’t move away from him. Instead she lowered her hands to his erection.
He hissed out a breath. “Priscilla… Honey, this is wrong.” Even though it felt so good. “Everything you’ve been through…”
“I’m fine, Trace, really.” Her hand circled him, and she looked at him with a softened gaze and a little awe. “But you’re not.”
He would never understand her. “Everything that’s happened today… You’re not rattled?”
“Not anymore, now that I know you’re safe from Helene.” Priss shrugged, tipped her head. “You seem pretty rock steady, too, considering.”
“I’m on fire.” His hands shook when he cupped her face. “Jesus, I don’t know what she gave me, but…”
“But you still handled things when you needed to.”
Pride demanded that he explain things to her. “I was just about free when you two showed up. I would have gotten away from her.”
Her hands continued to move on him. “I believe you.”
“I would have handled things. You shouldn’t have gotten involved.”
All her attention remained on his cock. “Right now, I’m sort of glad I did.”
She sounded awed, and excited. “That’s not helping, Priss.” Whatever the drug concoction, it had a potent kick that just kept amplifying.
“And you need to get off?”
He stared at her. “You’re not acting very virginal.”
“Get real.” She snorted. “I work in a p**n shop.”
A fact he’d never forget. “Yeah, I need to get off.” Even saying it put him perilously close to the edge of no return. “Afterward, maybe I can clear my head.”
“I’d like to help with that.”
The things she said, the things she did… “Your first time shouldn’t be like this.”
“You’re right.” While staring down at him, Priss licked her bottom lip. “The thing is…I want to…taste you.”
His lungs compressed. Hearing her say that nearly took out his knees. He slid his fingers into her hair, holding her head and envisioning the whole thing with devastating effect. He knew he should turn her down, but he couldn’t get the words out.
“Can I take your silence for agreement?”
Trace squeezed his eyes shut tight, told himself to refuse before it was too late… “Yes.”
“Oh, good. But first I have a question.”
He’d never survive this. “What?”
“That bitch didn’t have her mouth on you?”
“No.” He kissed her hard, and wanted to keep on kissing her. Her lips were soft and open, warm and sweet. One day soon he’d take his time with her. Tonight wasn’t it. “No, she didn’t. That was her plan, but then you and Jackson got there—”
“I’m so glad.” Priss started slipping down to her knees, and Trace knew he wouldn’t last. Not beyond a minute. Maybe not beyond the first touch of her sweet mouth.
He tried to go easy, to keep from clenching his fingers in her hair, but the second he felt her breath he was a goner. Her tongue touched him tentatively, exploring, and he suffered a hot surge. “Don’t tease, Priss. I can’t take it.”
She said, “Mmm,” and her mouth opened on the head, sliding over him, enclosing him in moist heat. He stiffened all the way down to his toes.
Holding him in her fist, Priss took more of him, almost to the base of his shaft, and he lost it. She might be a novice, but her innocence was more of a turn-on than experience could ever be. He knew he would be her first in so many ways, but this—this had been reserved for fantasies.
With his hands in her hair, Trace held her close, guiding her, showing her how he needed her to move. A ringing sounded in his ears, his limbs trembled, pleasure exploded and he came with a groan of bone-deep satisfaction.
Only vaguely aware of her taking everything from him, swallowing, moaning in her own excitement, Trace eased her away.
As Priss reluctantly released him, he dropped down to sit beside her, his back against the wall, his thoughts blessedly cleared and his body no longer on fire. He labored for breath, and tried to think.
Drugs were a real son-of-a-bitch.
Priss had been through her own kind of hell. She deserved his attention, his comfort. But he had no control at all. Hell, even now, knowing his lack of control to be true, he couldn’t seem to pull back from her.
Her hand slid over his shoulder, down to his side. “Trace?” She kissed his ear. “This might be easier on the bed.”
He groaned again, his body straining, racked with need.
Feeling her smile on his temple, he heard her whisper, “Or not.” And then she moved, gliding against his cock, and even through layers of material, it was enough to devastate him.
“Wait.” The single word sounded like sandpaper. Trace fought for a breath, then another. But he would not come in his pants like a green kid. “I can’t…I won’t do this.”
“No?”
He wanted her to understand, but he was short on words and long on need. “Not to you.”
She went still, and Trace geared himself up for a variety of reactions. Then she wiggled, and he let her free even though it almost killed him. When her feet touched the floor again, she didn’t move away from him. Instead she lowered her hands to his erection.
He hissed out a breath. “Priscilla… Honey, this is wrong.” Even though it felt so good. “Everything you’ve been through…”
“I’m fine, Trace, really.” Her hand circled him, and she looked at him with a softened gaze and a little awe. “But you’re not.”
He would never understand her. “Everything that’s happened today… You’re not rattled?”
“Not anymore, now that I know you’re safe from Helene.” Priss shrugged, tipped her head. “You seem pretty rock steady, too, considering.”
“I’m on fire.” His hands shook when he cupped her face. “Jesus, I don’t know what she gave me, but…”
“But you still handled things when you needed to.”
Pride demanded that he explain things to her. “I was just about free when you two showed up. I would have gotten away from her.”
Her hands continued to move on him. “I believe you.”
“I would have handled things. You shouldn’t have gotten involved.”
All her attention remained on his cock. “Right now, I’m sort of glad I did.”
She sounded awed, and excited. “That’s not helping, Priss.” Whatever the drug concoction, it had a potent kick that just kept amplifying.
“And you need to get off?”
He stared at her. “You’re not acting very virginal.”
“Get real.” She snorted. “I work in a p**n shop.”
A fact he’d never forget. “Yeah, I need to get off.” Even saying it put him perilously close to the edge of no return. “Afterward, maybe I can clear my head.”
“I’d like to help with that.”
The things she said, the things she did… “Your first time shouldn’t be like this.”
“You’re right.” While staring down at him, Priss licked her bottom lip. “The thing is…I want to…taste you.”
His lungs compressed. Hearing her say that nearly took out his knees. He slid his fingers into her hair, holding her head and envisioning the whole thing with devastating effect. He knew he should turn her down, but he couldn’t get the words out.
“Can I take your silence for agreement?”
Trace squeezed his eyes shut tight, told himself to refuse before it was too late… “Yes.”
“Oh, good. But first I have a question.”
He’d never survive this. “What?”
“That bitch didn’t have her mouth on you?”
“No.” He kissed her hard, and wanted to keep on kissing her. Her lips were soft and open, warm and sweet. One day soon he’d take his time with her. Tonight wasn’t it. “No, she didn’t. That was her plan, but then you and Jackson got there—”
“I’m so glad.” Priss started slipping down to her knees, and Trace knew he wouldn’t last. Not beyond a minute. Maybe not beyond the first touch of her sweet mouth.
He tried to go easy, to keep from clenching his fingers in her hair, but the second he felt her breath he was a goner. Her tongue touched him tentatively, exploring, and he suffered a hot surge. “Don’t tease, Priss. I can’t take it.”
She said, “Mmm,” and her mouth opened on the head, sliding over him, enclosing him in moist heat. He stiffened all the way down to his toes.
Holding him in her fist, Priss took more of him, almost to the base of his shaft, and he lost it. She might be a novice, but her innocence was more of a turn-on than experience could ever be. He knew he would be her first in so many ways, but this—this had been reserved for fantasies.
With his hands in her hair, Trace held her close, guiding her, showing her how he needed her to move. A ringing sounded in his ears, his limbs trembled, pleasure exploded and he came with a groan of bone-deep satisfaction.
Only vaguely aware of her taking everything from him, swallowing, moaning in her own excitement, Trace eased her away.
As Priss reluctantly released him, he dropped down to sit beside her, his back against the wall, his thoughts blessedly cleared and his body no longer on fire. He labored for breath, and tried to think.
