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My forehead stays smashed against Trey’s chest, the top of his shirt undone. After about a full minute of recovery—I fuckin’ mean it—there’s no comparing of a self-induced orgasm to one delivered by the swift hand, well, fingers of someone else. Anyway, after that sixty seconds I regained some sort of hazy consciousness.

His palms, resting on my waist, over the dress that’s still bunched up around it. I take in a few deep breaths, his faint hint of whatever man smelling body wash or cologne, or maybe it’s just his scent—either way, I’m a fan—threatening to keep me in this lust induced trance. Also, his shirt, which I got about three-quarters of the way undone before he so rudely stopped me. That’s a joke... never been with a guy who was so intent on giving me mine before he got his. Okay, never been with someone who actually gave me mine.

Yeah, I’m in heaven.

Anyway, the view from here is pretty nice. Though it’s dark, I can make out the groves and indentations lining every pronounced muscle. I’ve got a major thing for abs, who doesn’t?

Finally, I lift my head, meeting those eyes, that grin, a sense of accomplishment clear on his face. Yeah, he should totes feel like the man right now.

Letting my fingers trace up the back of his neck, weaving into his nice wavy hair—God, I’m not a man bun type of girl, but I can picture it, and I don’t hate it—I lean back, resting my head against the wall.

“So that was...?” he trails, studying my face. I know without a doubt, my cheeks are blazing red, I can feel it. I’m out of breath, out of this world, out of thoughts, okay... never. Gently sweeping the hair—slightly matted from a little bit of sweat that’s beaded along my hairline—he runs his fingers back with it.

“It was alright,” I say with a little shrug, trying hard to keep my lips together, failing miserably. “Maybe an eight out of ten?”

He lets out a chuckle as I tilt my head to the side. “Bullshit.” Trey grins over my lips before pressing his against mine, softly, sweetly. I like this part of him, too. But I’m gonna be real and say when he took that control, got that edge, I knew it wouldn’t take long. “I’d give you a nine,” he says matter-of-a-factly, after pulling back.

I roll my eyes. Of course we’ve both—at different stages—grown accustomed to the absolutely ridiculous rating system of he who is def not gonna be named... I’m sick of him. Not really, but I just don’t wanna think about him.

“Ugh.” I let out a groan, squeezing my arms tighter around his neck, pulling him even closer. “You can’t rate your own skills. Now, when I return the favor...”

A quiet, breathy chuckle leaves his mouth, studying me with a raised brow. A smile taking up his entire face—not really, but it seems like it—reaching all the way up to his eyes. Smooth lashes butterflying my temples before he covers my lips with his.

Breaking the gentle kiss, looking down as I undo the rest of his shirt buttons, hands traveling south, taking every opportunity to graze over the muscular, strong, and nicely smooth torso—some things have to be appreciated. Also, I’m sorry, but hairy chests aren’t my thing. Let’s be real. If us women are expected to keep ourselves nicely groomed—and can we talk about the time commitment that shaving, waxing, plucking, what the fucking takes—it’s the least a man can do.

I can feel Trey’s eyes still on my face, breath hitching as my palm cruises lower, enjoying the feel of each little square—I mean it, they’re perfectly formed—traveling downward, tensing under my touch.

He exhales a quiet sigh, covering my hand with his, the entire top half of his body now on full display, black shirt hanging open. I glance up at him with a little frown. His lips pressed tight as he blinks a few times before closing his eyes.

“We don’t have to,” he says, and the look on his face is so genuine, so caring, so... who in the fuck is this guy!? “I definitely want to, but I meant it. This was all you.”

“Well, I guess if you’re not into it...” Dropping my arms from his shoulders, I shuffle my dress down, staring up at the ceiling, huffing out an exaggerated scoff. “I’ll just be on my way.” I head for the door. But get real, I’m obviously joking.

Trey clasps a hand around my wrist, snapping me back to him, making me crash against his chest, looking down at me through those thick—and for reals making me jealous that they’re all natural—lashes. He mimics his action on my other arm, encircling it, holding both tight against my sides.

“I think you like me grabbing you like that,” his low voice suggests.

Yeah, he’s not wrong.

“And I think you just want me to be pressed against your body,” I challenge him. Both of us with playful smiles on our faces, the mood has definitely shifted to something else, so much more relaxed, easy.

“I have no objections,” Trey counters, placing my arms around the back of his waist. “But it’s still your birthday, and it’s pretty early. I wanna do one more thing with you”—he clicks his tongue—“before we...” Shifting his eyes to the side with a grin, he brushes his fingers up my arms, sweeping the hair from my shoulders.

“You are so much more casual now.” There’s that word, that’s how we need to keep it. I tilt my head back slightly, loving how he’s being more forward. Taking in his jawline, not tightened up with nerves, much more slack, a definite twinkle in his eyes.

“I guess we broke the ice,” he offers with a simple shoulder raise.

“I’d say.” Letting my palms glide down, grabbing the nicely toned—fuck, how much does this guy work out—butt cheeks and giving a not-so-subtle squeeze. “I mean, you definitely broke my curse, popped my orgasm cherry.”

He shakes his head with a breathy laugh, encasing his arms around my neck, pulling me against him. Closing my eyes, I try not to get caught up, lost in this brief moment, that I know will be just that—a moment.

“Anyway, it’s still your birthday,” he says, pulling back, turning his wrist overtop of my shoulder. “Only ten-thirty. So, let’s make it about you for a little longer.”

I lick my top lip, my tongue sliding suggestively across, with a brow raise. “Whatever you say. I kinda like you in charge.” He laughs as I deliver a slow wink, my smile matching his.

“There’s one thing I think will get us both loosened up even more.”

“What’s it have to do with?”

He quirks an eyebrow, mouth curving into a sexy grin. Running his hand down to the small of my back, he forces my body flush against his. And with a newfound sense of assertiveness, he dips his head to mine, teeth nipping at my bottom lip.



“Mmm.” I let out a super loud, deep and throaty moan. Yeah, I said deep throaty. Allowing my shoulders to relax, my neck rolling back as the deliciousness that’s right in front of me plays out.

“You like it?” he asks with a smirk, watching me, scrutinizing every single reaction I’m having to what’s going down. Well, I should say it’s going in.

“I fucking love it.” I shake my shoulder from the shivers running through me, exhaling a hard breath from my nose before closing my eyes. Mindlessly wiping under my bottom lip. This is a level of fulfillment unlike any other. “Soooo good.” Another orgasmic moan slips from my mouth.

“You want more?”

“Hell yeah! Like that’s even a question.”

Trey slides the plate towards me, housing the bacon cheeseburger and fries that we decided to share, though I’d say it’s more me than him.

He said he’d ordered one from the hotel restaurant—where we’re now situated in a booth—the other day. And allegedly, when I was drunk that first night, I said I’d kill for one. Well, I don’t think from the far off grin and light chuckle, that’s exactly what I said. Oh well. But apparently that night, Pizza was second on my list.

Anyway, he stayed relaxed, and so did I. It’s strange because I really feel like I can just be me around him. He proposed we go downstairs and get a few birthday drinks—who am I to object—and grab something to eat.

“Okay, so truth?” He side eyes from next to me in the dark leather booth as I turn my body towards him. Not totally worried about the dress and a potential Britney moment.

I admitted to Trey that the material was thin, and maybe some things were flowing, and for all intents and purposes I needed some underwear. He pulled out a pair of black boxer briefs from his suitcase, making me like a lot more... unsaturated.


“Sure,” I reply, lifting a shoulder, popping a fry into my mouth.

“Why’d you get so nervous... before? I mean, was it because I was or...”

“No.” I shake my head, taking a sip of the martini in front of me... dirty, just how I like it. But seriously, I’m not even trying to be lewd. Love me some olives. Letting the remnants of vodka burn in a nice way as I slide my lips together, taking a breath. “I think it was a combo of things,” I admit with a sigh.

Trey nods his head before resting his elbow on the table. The restaurant pretty sparse, though a few people occupy the bar more towards the center of the low lit place. He pays attention, clearly. He remembers shit I said that I don’t.

“I really just don’t know what I’m doing with my life.”

“Join the club.” He crinkles his nose with a little frown. Propping his jaw on his bunched up fist, he nods, urging me to continue.

“So, I was just sick of life, so bored. And like I said, real douche of a boyfriend.” Rolling my eyes, letting them travel around to the few other people dining, couples mostly, or inebriated twenty and thirty somethings looking for some late night grub. “And I felt like it was time for a change.”

“So, you’re in design?”

“Well, not technically.” I go for another sip as Trey guzzles from his beer. “I went to school for that, but haven’t had much luck with getting a job in that field.”

He shakes his head. “It’s bullshit, isn’t it? Spend all this money on a degree and no one wants to hire you unless you have experience.”

“That’s what I said!”

In all honesty, there were maybe chances, opportunities. But it would have meant putting myself out there, or at least pushing to get what I wanted... and that just wasn’t me... before. Maybe it isn’t me now because I pushed for this, and if it wasn’t for Trey, there’d have been absolutely zero follow through.

“Anyway.” I lift a shoulder, taking a bite before offering the burger to him. “My parents run a successful real estate firm. And they’ll pay for me to get my license, and so maybe that’s a start.” I scrunch lips to my nose, raising my brows. “Better than nothing.”

“But it’s not what you want,” he says with a disbelieving tone, that type that’s so easy to come from someone on the outside, shaking his head.

“Well, that’s how it goes.” I grab the burger from him, taking a last bite, savoring the gooey cheese, the crispy bacon—which he requested—saying that he remembered that’s how I’d ordered it at the diner. “We just don’t always get what we want.”

We mirror each other’s slight scowls; the staring gets going again. It’s not everything, but honestly, I’m not super outright with my genuine feelings very often, not even to Chaz. Much better at stuffing things away and pretending like it doesn’t bother me. Feels good though, feels nice to kind of unload... at least a bit.

“Okay, so what about you?” I ask him, noticing how we’re both so close to each other now in this corner, curved type of booth. “I mean, you have the club going, what’s your plans for that?”

Trey tells me more about the new space, how his first one took off. This venue can hold three times the amount of people, and he’s trying to bring something new to the area. Actually, way more excited to talk about it than he was the other night.

We spend who knows how long, talking. The conversation easy, flowing—same with the drinks—no more anything, and no fucking mention of Chaz. For this little sliver of time, it’s just the two of us.

I learn he has seven nieces, and another on the way. I filled him in on my family sitch, only child.

It’s such a stark difference to the days before this, definitely from earlier tonight. I assured him the bracelet is amazing, and I love it—seriously, best gift ever—he seemed to get a little off when I brought it up, saying maybe it was too much.

In reality, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten such a personalized and totally scandalous gift.

“So, last thing.” I clasp my hand over my mouth as a hiccup accompanies my words. Shit, I’m definitely feeling loose. And by the ever so slightly glossy look—you know, that booze induced one—I think Trey’s feeling alright, himself.

“Mm-hmm,” he mumbles, the tequila that we both moved onto, heavy on his breath, as he leans in closer. His hand teasing up my leg.

“Okay, two things.”

He nods as we both sit sideways, elbows resting on the table, fist jammed against our cheeks as we face each other.

“First, I really do like this bolder you. Don’t be nervous around me again. And I’ll try not to be too too much.” I clench my teeth, raising my hands in front of me. “Though, I can’t make any promises.”

“I like you just the way you are.” He leans in even closer, capturing my lips between his with a quick and nicely done nip and snap. The alcohol definitely having provided a nice buffer between us.

“And I like you taking charge, so keep that shit up.” I tilt my head with a suggestive smirk.

“You got it,” the slower words hum out in a deep tone from his throat. Trey slides a thumb over my cheek, letting it trail down the side of my neck. I let out a soft whimper at the feeling. Okay, it’s go-time.

“And lastly—"

“That’s three things,” he interrupts.

“Are you always so observant?”

“Worked out for me earlier?” he flashes a bit of a cocky grin—again, self-deserving—raising dark brows over his green eyes. Seeing them up close, they remind me of a piece of highly polished sea glass, that extremely pale shade of green. His fingertips creep under the bottom of my dress, thumbing gentle strokes over my skin.

Placing both palms on each one of his legs, I let them travel up a bit, making him pull back with a quick cough. “How’d you... how did you get so good”—I make a little whistle noise, poking two fingers in the air—“at that?”

He laughs, lips curving up, teeth on full show, shaking his head. The deep dimples that are actually blessed on both of his cheeks making an appearance. Putting his hands under either side of my jaw, he pulls me towards him. “I’m just really perceptive,” he offers with a casual shrug. “Well that, and I work with my hands.”

“I fucking knew it!”

We make our way back up to Trey’s room. No more stalling, no more nerves, no anxiousness, and no fucking interruptions.

“I have to leave in four hours.” He forces his lips to a smile once the door clicks. His hand in mine.

“Well,” I say, following him in, “we better make them all count.”

A/N: gahhhhh I love them. Okay so thoughts? Comments? I know we want them to bang it out, trust me... it was my original intention, but here we are🥰💅😜 Thank you all for reading, and your comments. Please let me know your thoughts. Bc I gotta say they really help me write the story!!!!

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