Wrapped Up by Carina Alyce

Author:Carina Alyce [Alyce, Carina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Carina Alyce

Chapter 9

In the limo outside the Ball

“Oh, you bastard,” Battalion Chief Leslie McClunis shouted. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Quiet down.” Her husband, Trevor, popped his head up from his position between her legs. The immense ruffled layers of her red ball gown were pushed up to her waist, and he’d helpfully removed her panties before going down on her.

She grabbed his ears to push him back into position. “No talking. That’s why the privacy screen is up.”

Trevor didn’t comment that the limo’s privacy screen didn’t block sound nearly as well as sight. Instead, he attacked his task with relish, licking her exposed clit in the circular pattern that made her curse.

It took the limo four more trips around the block before she had her screaming orgasm.

Trevor wiped his face off with a towel and gave her a satisfied smile. “We’re late.”

“It’s your fault we’re late,” she smirked back, flipping her short red hair behind her ears.

Barely five feet and about a hundred pounds, lacking in curves, there was no need to enhance what wasn't there with styled hair. If it had been up to her, she'd have worn jeans. However, Trevor had insisted she wear a Pamela Rowland gown he'd bought for an obscene amount of money.

“My fault? You demanded an orgasm.”

“Of course I did. I unclosed Firehouse 15 and pulled one over on Cordova. I deserved sex. And actual sex would have been much faster, if my husband would put out.” Leslie complained. Back in August, she'd ended up in the ICU after being buried in a building collapse. While she was out recuperating, her least favorite person in the fire department tried to outmaneuver her. It had taken all of her wits and guile to undo his work in the past week, which was quite stressful.

To make matters worse, she was very horny.

And her hot, sexy football playing man mountain of muscle refused to play ball. Or let her play with his balls or his cock or slide it inside her till she was full and screaming his name at the top of her lungs.

Trevor sat up and poured himself a glass of champagne from the ice bucket. “Leslie, babe, we’ve talked about this.”

“I’ve been cleared for duty, which means cleared for sex.”

“You went back to duty three days ago, and you can’t get in and out of the Chief Car by yourself. You ache enough to take Percocet,” he reminded her.

“I’m sure I’d take less if someone would give me the dopamine rush from sex.”

“I just gave you a whole bunch of endorphin rush.” He sipped his champagne.

“Come on, honey. Don’t you need it?” She traced her hand down the front of his tux.

He firmly removed her hand and plucked her panties off the floor. “I’ll survive.”

“Not if you go blind first.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve been working out more,” Trevor admitted to his current method of burning off his physical needs.

It had been over twenty years since his retirement from the NFL, but from the way he treated his body, it’d be difficult to tell he was over fifty.

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