10. Sinclaire

When Trick doesn't move, I reach for his shirt buttons. We can both be nearly naked for the next stage in our debate over whatever this is between us.

A single night of celebration, I remind myself. That's all that it is. A hot secret we'll keep for the rest of our lives.

His whole body goes taut as I slip the first button free. I slide my fingers between the soft cotton layers and touch his warm skin. The contact sends a sizzle of electricity up my arm and my gaze flies to his face.

His return look is hot enough to make me melt into the bed.

"I want to celebrate with you," I whisper, my voice shaking. I undo another button and slide my fingers lower, into soft chest hair. I'm trembling, I realize, just before Trick's hands catch me around the waist and then he's guiding me down to the bed, and my fingers fly through the rest of his buttons, undoing his shirt as he brackets himself above me.

A frantic energy is driving me now, all quivering need, and as soon as my hands push his shirt off his shoulders, he starts helping.

The shirt goes flying and then he scoops me into his arms, bare skin to bare skin, and his mouth finds mine.

Trick Lowry is kissing me and he tastes like champagne.

His victory kisses are mine, and I could cry from how good it feels, his lips sure and strong and warm. I think I do cry out, because his mouth opens with mine, and he slants his head sideways to capture it, and then he's licking at me and that feels even better. Heady, incredible tastes, his strong tongue sliding over mine, teaching me how to do this, how to have grown up kisses in secret.

He growls and I feel it in my belly. It makes me gasp, which shakes my whole body, and my nipples scrape over his chest.

His hand comes up my rib cage, his thumb finding the the underside of my breast with an experienced touch that makes me feel giddy—and jealous of everyone else he's ever touched.

He strokes my flesh, tracing the shape of me until I feel like I'm going to combust, and then he cups my whole breast and pinches the nipple between two fingers, tugging in a way that turns that pressure into a blazing fire.

I kiss him back desperately, sucking on his lower lip and panting into his mouth. "Trick, I need…"

"Tell me what you need." He's panting, too. He cradles me in his arms as he rolls onto his back, pulling me on top of him. Both of his hands come to my chest now, and he makes a low, unholy sound as he cups my tits together. "You like my touches here?"

I rock my hips, my thighs squeezing against his waist. "Like isn't a strong enough word. Kiss me again."

He grins and tugs on my nipples. "You're on top now, Sin. If you want to kiss, come down here and take it."

I lean into his hands and he lowers me down, his eyes glittering as I get closer. I brush my lips against his.

"I love your touches everywhere," I whisper. Then I lick my way into his mouth and the desperate need surges to the fore again.

How can we flash from this wild, all-consuming physical tearing at each other to playful teasing and back again? It makes this feel like a dream.

As we kiss, he rocks his big, hard body up to meet mine. My thighs stretch down to bracket his hips, and then the part of him that my core has been seeking presses right up against my pussy, and I go absolutely feral.

Trick's erection is perfect.

Just like the rest of him, so I shouldn't be surprised, but even though his dress pants and my panties, I know it's huge and hard and meant to be rubbing against my body like this.

I could start crying again for how good the thick, hard ridge of his shaft feels pushing up against my seam, my clit, and my aching, empty hole.

"Fuck me," I breathe, grinding down against him. "Please, Trick, fuck me right now. Take me. I want to be your World Series celebration. I need you inside me, please Trick, please…"

His hands tighten on my breasts, going from a confident, teasing pinch and pull on my nipples to a rough, possessive squeeze of my entire flesh. "Jesus, Sin, don't say things like that."

"I need it," I whine, and it sounds like a whine, there's no other way to describe it. I'm rocking against his cock desperately now and whimpering into his mouth as I try to kiss him and beg at the same time.

He twists us around again, pinning me down on the bed. Now his glittering gaze has a steely, dangerous edge to it. His whole chest heaves as he wedges himself between my thighs and rocks that erection right up against where I need it most. "I'll give you what you need, little mouse. But you need to be careful what you beg for. Daddy has been lonely for a very long time."

"How long?"

He doesn't answer me. Maybe he didn't hear my question. Maybe I didn't say it out loud. My heart pounds in my throat. "You don't need to be lonely anymore, Trick."

He growls, snapping his hips and driving me into the bed. "I need to take care of you first, you understand? So you have to promise not to talk about fucking until you're good and ready, you understand?"

"No…" He's like a beast on top of me, and I love it.

His grip on my wrists turns into proper manacles. "Don't tease me."

"I'm not," I gasp.

But then I lick my lips, and he roars, grinding against me once more before scrambling off the bed.

His erection is straining the limits of his pants.

I roll after him and sink to my knees in front of him.

Now his gaze is nothing but dark, aching desire as he looks down at me.

I unbuckle his belt. "Will you be able to control yourself better if I take care of you first?"

"I shouldn't let you…" But his hand is already sinking into my hair, and I feel a wicked sense of pride that I can sense what this big man needs, even though I'm a complete innocent in this regard.

It's hard to unzip his pants over the straining shaft. He groans as my fingers push against his cock, and then he sucks in a sharp breath when it surges forward, the cotton of his boxers no match for his dick.

Trick's dick.

Trick's cock.

I imagined it a lot. Too much, really.

But I am not prepared for the reality.

He is big. And he is hard.

But more than that, he is virile.

His belly strains above the dark thatch of hair I reveal, and then the darker, smooth skin of his erection. A heady scent of clean soap and aroused man wafts over me as I wrap my fingers around his base and guide his cock fully into view.

It pulses in my hand, throbbing. I wrap my other hand around the tip, my fists stacked, and I make a tentative stroke up and down.

He moans like an animal and sways above me.

Yes, Trick needs to come. That will help, I'm sure of it.

"You won the World Series," I whisper, looking up at him as I sway my mouth closer to his tip. "You're a World Champion."

"You're my reward," he growls. "Your sweet little mouth."

I nod. "You want me to lick it?"

"Fuck." His hand tightens in my hair. "Yes, baby. Lick Daddy's cock. Be a good girl and taste that drop of seed on the tip. I made it for you."

I lean in and lap it up, his gift for me, his seed. The taste explodes on my tongue, forbidden and musky, and I exhale sharply before taking another lick, another swallow, then a whole mouthful, covering his tip with my lips and sucking.

He rumbles instructions at me. "Bigger mouth, that's it. Lick me while you suck it. Can you take any more? Your lips are so pretty when they're stretched wide around me. Fuck, I feel it spilling out of me already. Can you taste me? Daddy filling your mouth, when you were begging him to fill your pussy…this is wrong, Sinclaire. I shouldn't fuck your mouth before I make love to your little pussy."

I pop off with a breathy gasp, my eyes wide at his words—all of them. The crude ones and the ones that hint at this being more than a single night. "Make love?"

His cock, wet from my mouth, flexes hard in my hands as I repeat those two words.

"That's what it will be, the first time I'm inside you. The first and every time." My eyes, suddenly hot and scratchy, threaten to well up, so I drop my lashes and focus on trying to suck him again, but he cups my chin and lifts my face. "I want to love you the way a man loves his wife," he says solemnly. "And the only reason I'm letting you play with my cock right now is a dark, twisted hope you get addicted to the power of milking Daddy's seed, buying me enough time to convince you to love me right back."

I laugh. I shouldn't, it's not the right moment at all, but Trick is worried about me loving him?

His brows shoot up, and I immediately stop giggling.

"I'm serious," he growls.

I give me a slow, careful smile, even though I can still feel that wild, disbelieving laughter rippling through my body. "Yes, Daddy," I breathe. "You should make get addicted to your taste. That is a very, very good plan."

I take him back into my mouth, and he fists my hair into a ponytail. "Don't tease me, girl. You think you know what you're in for, but when I come, I'm going to overflow your mouth. You'll have to swallow it all down or make a big mess."

I moan and take him deeper, too deep, and my body protests, hollowing out at the unexpected gag reflex reaction.

"Is that your pretty little throat?" He grunts under his breath. "Jesus Christ, Sin, you'll get me addicted to the tight squeeze of that if you're not careful. Need to fuck your face every morning to start the day. Doing retirement right, that's the new plan. Do you have room for me in your dorm bed? A big baseball player who needs his cock sucked by the coed?"

More filthy words that sound like a promise of forever.

I nod even though I don't live in a dorm, but I could start if it made Trick this hard. My head bobs around his erection and another pulse of seed spills onto my tongue. His grip on my hair tightens, holding my head at an angle where he can see my eyes, and he starts to moving his hips, thrusting the flared head of his cock back and forth over my eager tongue.

His scent and taste get stronger, his groans filling the air, and then he pushes, once again threatening my gag relex. My whole core tightens up as I fight to breathe around him, and he goes rock hard and super still.

A moment I will remember forever.

A moment immediately followed by a flood, his release, a thick load that is hard to swallow and that does make a mess, spilling down my lips.

Above me, Trick heaves, then rocks back on his heels, pulling out.

His expression instantly clears, the wild lust being replaced by shock and a more responsible awareness.

"Oh, little mouse," he whispers, his voice rough. "What a good girl you are, giving me more than I deserve. Come here." He leans over and scoops me up, not caring at all that my face is a mess.

In fact, once he has me sitting on his lap on the bed, he cups my cheeks and wipes my lower lip with his thumb with a surprisingly fond look on his face. Almost as if he likes how messy I am.

"Here," he says abruptly. "Have a drink."

He pours me a proper glass of champagne. Maybe bubbly will forever now be entwined with the memory of this first taste of him.

I shift restlessly in his lap, my own ache pulsing to the fore again now that I've tamed the beast.

He's watching my mouth still.

"Do you want some champagne?" I hold out the glass.

He nods, but instead of taking it, he shifts me to recline against the pillows, and he grabs the bottle, then shoulders his way between my thighs. "I've wanted to drink from you since you peeled off my jersey."

I squeak in surprise as he pours a splash of champagne into my belly button, then covers it with his lips and swallows the mouthful.

He lifts his head, his throat still working, and he holds my gaze. "You taste better than I imagined, Sinclaire Rosehill."

"You…thought about…" I trail off into a sigh as he presses the rounded mouth of the glass bottle against my nipple and tips it carefully, sending a river of bubbles over my breast and down my belly. He starts at the bottom and licks it up, ending at my breast.

He pulls the whole swell of my tit into his mouth, sucking greedily, answering my question.

He's pulling on my body like I sucked on his cock. Two willing victims being pulled into a sex trap we never want to escape from. Addicted to each other's bodies, craving each other's words…

I wonder how he'd like to hear me say things now that he's had his release. He got all growly before, but maybe…

"I still want you to fuck me," I breathe.

He groans.

Lifts his head.

Pours another river of champagne down the other breast, and licks it up, all the way up, until he's sucking that point to an aching peak.

"I need you inside me," I pant.

He goes still.

Presses his head to my belly this time.

And slowly, achingly slow, he drags the bottle of champagne down my torso until it catches on the waistband of the small scrap of black cotton still covering my pussy.

"That's close, pet." He drags in a rough breath and lifts his gaze to meet mine. "But it's not going to be fucking. What do you want Daddy to do to you?"

I lick my lips. "I want you to make love to me," I whisper.

He nods. "It's going to be different for us." He pulls the bottle closer to himself again, and the cotton pulls down with it, revealing the sparse blonde hairs covering my mound.

I whimper and rock my hips up, my clit almost close enough to the bottom edge of the bottle…but not quite. "Please…"

"What you and me have isn't like fooling around with boys." He replaces the bottle with his fingers, holding my panties down, revealing just the top of my slit, where my clit is hidden, but throbbing. "What we are going to do tonight will make you forget anything else."

The bottle tips, the heavy cool glass pressing gently across my hip, and his mouth follows the stream, sucking up the champagne from my skin, my curls, and then, oh God, oh God, my pussy.

His tongue snakes between my lips and finds my clit. It's a wet, firm, slick intrusion that catches me by surprise. My hands fly to his head, my fingers sinking into his hair, like if I don't hold on to him as he lays these exploratory licks at the top of my sex I might fly away and not experience the full whatever-is-coming-next of this.

My impossible dream of a crush, the man I've watched work next to my father my whole life, has his face buried between my legs, promising me I'll forget all others.

But there hasn't been anyone else. Ever.

"Trick…Trick…" I tug on his hair. "Daddy!"

He lifts his head immediately. "Please don't ask me to stop."

"Never stop." I squirm, wiggling my hips. "Will it feel even better with my panties off?"

He licks his lips. "Are you a horny girl who likes to be spread open?"

"I don't know." I squirm again, desperate for his mouth to get back on me. "Nobody's ever done this before."

Fiery anger blazes in his eyes. "What sort of selfish fuckers have you been with?"

I sink into the pillows, suddenly feeling silly. "Nobody," I whisper. "You're my first everything."

"How?"

"I don't know. I just didn't want that before."

"Oh, pet." His pupils dilate, white hot now, and he reaches out to shove the champagne onto the bedside table. Then he takes the flute from my hand, his calloused fingers raising sparks where they brush against my softer ones.

He's gone so serious and silent that I'm afraid he's going to say we have to stop. I feel silly for having said anything—maybe he wouldn't have noticed that I'm inexperienced once we got going.

I managed to give him a good blowjob, didn't I?

"It's no big deal," I say hastily as he stretches out beside me, longer and bigger, his body so different to mine that I want to touch and explore and discover, but I can't because he catches my hands in his.

A muscle in his jaw flexes. "It's a big deal to me."

When I lean in, he lets me worm my way right up against him, which feels like a good sign. His skin is warm and irresistible, so I press my face into his neck.

My heart is beating a mile a minute, and maybe he can feel it, because he settles his hands on my bare back and rubs the top one right where I'm panicking.

"And maybe it should be a big deal, hmm?" His lips move against my hair.

I nod, a lump forming in my throat.

"I never wanted it with anyone else, either," he says so quietly I almost miss it over the pounding of my heart.

I gasp, and he growls before crushing his mouth to mine. This kiss feels different. It feels rough and honest and binding.

When he stops, his mouth is wet and his eyes are blazing. "It might hurt."

"Good," I say stubbornly. "Then I'll always remember it."

"I want you to remember it for the pleasure." Between us, his cock pulses. Another good sign. "But if I'm going to be your first, you need to know that I will also be your only."