I melt into him with a moan and slide my palms up his chest to wrap around his neck as I pull him closer to me.
We take a few steps backward until we hit a stool and his hand rests against it as his tongue explores my mouth. I push my chest out and my hardened nipples rub against his chest.
His free hand slides down my body and under the hem of my dress, pulling up so he can dip into my panties.
“Holy fuck, Les. So wet for me.”
“Always.”
“That’s my girl.” With his words he slides two fingers inside me, and my head tips back with a moan while my hands grip at his neck and shoulders.
He watches me with a parted mouth as he moves his fingers inside me with such expertise, you’d think he studied the Leslie handbook. Although in many ways and after all this time, he has several times over.
My hands twist into his dress shirt as I clench down on his fingers, moaning loudly. It’s freeing not to have to hold back my noise level because of kids sleeping down the hall.
Quickly he removes his fingers and flips me around, planting my hands on the stool and pulling my ass out toward him. He flips the hem of my dress over my back and eases into me from behind.
We moan in unison. “Fuck, baby. You feel so good. I’ll never get over it.”
His hands tighten around my hips as he slowly pulls out before slamming back in. He’s so forceful that I move so far forward the stool tips a little.
This time when he does it, I’m prepared and keep my elbows locked. And fuck if it doesn’t feel fantastic.
He continues like this for a few more thrusts before he picks up in both speed and intensity. It has me basically hugging the stool as I shift with every slam into me.
His hand twists in my curls and pulls so I have to push back on my hand, and he turns my face to meet his, crashing his lips to mine.
I moan into his mouth as he continues to pound into me.
That’s when I’m pretty sure I hear a noise and pull away.
But he doesn’t stop or hesitate, grunting as he continues to plow me. He doesn’t even seem to notice my hesitation, lost in the feel of me.
And I’m about to shrug it off as nothing and fall back into the amazing abyss of fucking Trent, when the door bangs open.
“Oh my God!” Somebody yells and backs out of the room.
I shriek and pull away from Trent, who curses under his breath and tucks himself away, turning toward the door.
Quickly, I adjust my dress so it’s covering me again. “So much for private!”
“Maybe somebody had the same thought we did.”
“It’s mortifying.”
“Oh, come on. We’ll be the talk of the reunion.” His lips pull up into a smirk as he tucks his shirt back into his pants.
“Exactly.”
There’s a knock at the door before it opens and Leila walks through the door. She was a cheerleader, utterly obsessed with Trent, and often teased me for being not as popular as she was and any other way a beautiful popular girl might tease one who is less so. Guess I got the last laugh now.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…uh…interrupt anything. I didn’t expect anybody to be down here.”
Trent runs a hand through his hair and adjusts his belt. “It’s okay.”
“Oh, Trent.” Her cheeks pinken, and she tucks her long blonde hair behind her ear. “I didn’t realize that was you.”
Clearly, she still has some sort of draw to him. Not that I can blame her. He looks at least as sexy as he did when we were kids, just an older model. He’s aged wonderfully.
