The Trade by Meghan Quinn

Author:Meghan Quinn [Quinn, Meghan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-03-11T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

NATALIE

Oh God. Oh God. Oh my fucking God.

I have never experienced . . . an orgasm . . . where I can barely feel my legs. I loved Ansel for a very long time and thought we’d had a beautiful relationship in bed. But what Cory delivered, what he just did to my body, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. His fingers, his tongue, his lips, the scratch of his coarse hair to my soft skin . . . it was indescribable.

My throat feels hoarse, my skin burns from his scruffy jaw, but I relish in the feeling of being marked by him. Being marked all over by him. After that many orgasms, I feel like I’m floating on a cloud. It’s bliss.

The mattress dips as my brain starts to un-fog and the sheer cry of my voice starts to fall from my ears. And just as I’m about to open my eyes, lean up and kiss the man on the lips to return the favor, I feel him pass by the bottom of the bed and head straight to the bathroom where he locks the door and turns on the shower.

Still feeling dazed and quite confused, I sit up and look around. Did he really just leave? To take a shower?

As if to wash my scent away?

That can’t possibly be what he’s doing. On shaky legs, I stand from the bed. Naked and sore from how deliciously aggressive he was, I pad over to the bathroom and press my ear against the door.

Water hits the shower tile.

And then . . . light slapping, a far-off grunt.

No way. Emotion starts to clog my throat. Is he jacking off in there? I test the handle and like I thought, it’s locked. I lean in again and the telltale sign of him moaning echoes off the tiled shower stall, sending my stomach into a dizzying catapult.

I step away, my hand falling to my neck, unsure what to do.

Why would he just leave like that? Go to the bathroom, wash me off, take care of his own relief? Doesn’t he want me?

Insecurity washes over me as I think about everything I said in the heat of the moment, begging him to fuck me with his tongue, calling out his name, telling him exactly where I wanted him to touch me, how to fuck me.

How . . . embarrassing.

Lip trembling, a ball of uncertainty hits me dead in the gut as I make my way back to the couch bed. I sit on the edge and look back at the bathroom, his groaning louder now, piercing my soul. Doesn’t he trust me to pleasure him? To give him exactly what he needs like he gave me? Doesn’t he want me to touch him . . .

My lip trembles more as my eyes sting with tears. I lean back on the bed, curl into my pillow, and cry.

I’ve never experienced such an unreal sensation like Cory gave me just minutes ago, only to drop so suddenly to the pit of my biggest insecurities.

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