Hard Luck (Trophy Boyfriends 4)

That good.

Endorphin high.

Imagine how good I’ll feel when I’m buried deep inside her, or have my head buried between her legs.

Gorgeous, gorgeous legs…

Wrapped around me.

Doubt I’ll have to wait long—True seems to be in a rush. A rush to get me into the house and up the stairs and into her room. Happily, I lag behind as she guides me along through the dark house, holding out her hand so I don’t trip on the bottom step of the staircase.

We creep down the hall like two thieves in the night.

The house is quiet as a tomb except for our heavy breathing and stifled laughter.

My heart is beating out of my chest.

“This is kind of fun,” I whisper as we shut ourselves into her room.

I shuck my jacket, tossing it onto a chair in the corner, then my shoes. Socks.

How undressed am I supposed to get knowing we plan to have sex? Is it tacky to peel my jeans off? Pull the hoodie up and over my shoulders? Would she think I was being a pervert if I stripped my clothes down to my boxer shorts?

“Maybe you should just take your pants off.” True is already climbing back onto her bed, covers drawn, folded down like they might be at a hotel.

“Okay.” It’s nice having zero guesswork involved, and I set about removing my pants and sweatshirt, until I’m standing like a dope in the center of her room wearing nothing but my briefs.

“Are you going to stand there staring at me? This feels time-sensitive, don’t you think?”

“Now you’re making me feel like a workhorse with a job.”

She lies on her back and spreads her legs. “Are you mad about it?”

Um, no.

I practically jump on her, leaping into the center of the mattress, burying my face in her tits.

She laughs, gasping for breath, giving me tiny pats on the back to stop me from goofing around. “He’s going to hear us—you can’t make me laugh. What the heck is wrong with you?”

I blow a raspberry on her stomach, just below her breasts.

“I’ve been wanting you to touch me since I got home tonight,” she says, voice raspy.

That surprises me—True Wallace does not seem like the needy or wanton type. She comes off as more controlled and not the least bit impulsive.

Her booty call text tonight shocked the shit out of me.

“You have?”

“Oh yeah—it’s the baby hormones, but I find you so, so sexy.”

She’s definitely hopped up on pregnancy hormones; no way would she be saying this otherwise.

Perhaps this is what it’s like when she’s in an actual relationship once she lets her guard down.

Either way, I’m interested to find out.

We have only done it twice now, but we’ve already gotten into a rhythm where we feel comfortable with each other. Comfortable enough that I don’t hesitate to remove the panties from her body, slowly sliding them down her thighs.

The sleepshirt comes next, and before long, we’re both naked as the day we were born.

True moans when I slide my hands up her rib cage, cupping her breasts, kneading her nipples with the tips of my fingers.

Her body has my child growing inside, and it’s the sexiest thing I have ever seen. No cover model on any magazine compares to how beautiful this woman is.

She’s unabashed.

Unembarrassed.

Unapologetic.

Her tits are amazing and she smells amazing, too.

I’m basically crouched between her spread legs, and I can’t decide if I should immediately go down on her or climb up her body and do the old-fashioned dry hump. It’s a classic that I love and would love to bring back—my sex life full circle.

There is nothing better than a dry hump ending in a climax, and I fondly recall coming inside my jeans as the horny teenage boy I was in my youth.

Ahh, those were the good ol’ days.

Decision made, I climb my way up her body, dragging my hard erection over her smooth leg until it’s lined up at the apex of her thighs.

“Are you actually trying to dry-hump me right now?”

“One hundred percent.”

“I’m here for it,” she moans, head thrashing against the pillow when the tip of my cock rubs against her clit.

She’s already wet; I can feel my dick getting soaked, and it’s not even close to being inside.

“Don’t get too comfortable fucking me this way. At some point, I’m going to demand you c-come inside me. I want to feel you.” Her head tips back again. “God your dick is incredible.”

She sounds like a porn star, the noises she’s making.

“Shh, babe—quiet.”

“Then shut me up. I want your tongue in my mouth.”

Whoa.

Booty call True is a sex goddess.

We mimic sex as I move up and down over her, sliding back and forth, back and forth, up and down her body—up and down her pussy, fond memories rekindling.

This is a night I’m not likely to ever forget.