The Real Baxter (The Baxter Chronicles 1)

“Do I? Let me see that.” Trent smacked the phallus against his palm experimentally a couple of times. Then he dropped it beside the condom and pulled me over his knee, ass up.

“What are you—let me up.”

He shushed me like a child and reached for the lube. “I’m just trying to help you.”

“How? Are you going to spank me?”

“I wasn’t going to, but…” Trent smacked my ass once. Hard. “Hold yourself open for me. That’s it. Fuck, you have a pretty ass. Show yourself to me.”

Okay, so…there I was bent over a lover’s knee—a man I barely knew yet felt completely at ease with. I supposed unintentionally baring my soul had changed our dynamic without my permission. Trent wasn’t a stranger to me. I trusted him and I wanted anything and everything he could give me.

That had to explain why I was two seconds from begging him to use that dildo in this very compromising position. I wanted him too much to care. I wanted his finger, his toy, his cock. I didn’t even mind if he spanked me. I just needed his touch.

And he gave it to me.

He mumbled sweet nothings under his breath, praising my tight hole as he massaged my entrance with a slick digit and eased a finger inside me. I wiggled on his lap, wincing at the sting of pain. Everything about Trent was thick. However, I was a champ at anal prep. I relaxed my muscles and let him in…begging him for a second finger, then a third.

I got the dildo instead. Just the tip.

I arched and wriggled to get more of it. “Ungh, give to me.”

Trent tsked, pulling the toy all the way out. “Who’s in charge here?”

“Me. I just happen to be ass up at the moment.”

He spanked me hard enough to leave a handprint before slipping a single digit inside.

It wasn’t nearly enough now.

“Try that again. Who’s in charge?”

“You, but only because—”

“Nope. That’s all you have to say,” he hummed, adding another finger. “Now ask me politely.”

“Fuck me…please.”

“Much better.” Trent pushed the dildo inside me.

“Oh, fuck. That’s good.”

He took his time, lavishing me with compliments that would have made a porn star blush. He loved my ass, the feel of my precum on his thigh, and how I begged for more. The praise went to my head. I swayed my ass, rubbing my aching cock against him, repeating his name like a song lyric…until he pulled it out.

And suddenly I was empty and desperate and hornier than I’d been in years. No joke. I would have fucked the mattress and come within seconds. Thankfully, Trent had other ideas.

He rolled a condom on in record time and added lube. He held his dick at the base and tapped it on his lower abs. “Ride me, Seb.”

I climbed over him, lowered myself on his cock in one swift motion, and rode him as if my life depended on it. I wasn’t going to last long. That was a given. So I gave myself over to sensation and let go. I put my hands on his shoulders and bounced on his pole while he stroked me in a tight, sure-fisted grip. It was so good, so all-consuming. His hand, his cock…and the headboard smacking the wall, beating a rapid tattoo.

I had a rogue thought that his neighbors would have something to talk about over breakfast. But then he kissed me, and I forgot to think about anything at all. Trent was my focus. Just him. The feel of him impaling me…my mouth, my ass with his twisting tongue and the thrust of his hips. He surrounded me, demanding my complete attention in this perfectly relentless dance I wanted to last forever.

But there was no way to outride the monumental orgasm coming my way. It started at my toes and zinged along my spine. I shivered as my balls tightened, shooting ropes of cum across Trent’s chest. My orgasm must have triggered his too. He roared like a wild beast, crushing me in a powerful embrace as he thrust inside me…over and over.

I went limp with exhaustion, panting as I rested my forehead on his shoulder. “I can’t move. Maybe ever.”

His low laughter rumbled, warming me from the inside out. “Okay by me.”

“Mmm.” I closed my eyes and went limp. I might have even drifted off. But a buzzing cell phone woke me up. “Do you have to get that?”

“No. It’s my mom’s ringtone. I’ll call her later.”

“I should go anyway.” I slowly sat up and got out of bed.

Trent followed me into the bathroom and cleaned up a bit, then pointed at the glass-enclosed shower stall.

“You’re welcome to take a shower if you want. I’ll grab you a clean towel and—” He frowned when his phone went off again.

I chuckled. “Is that the theme from Flashdance?”