He lifted her to sit on the edge of the cold vanity. A hard tremor shook her entire body. He began his descent, his mouth moving down the center of her chest. His lips, tongue, and that hard metal ball blazed a trail of pleasure across her skin. Her belly clenched as he suckled and licked his way down her stomach.
“It’s Sol,” he whispered.
“Soul?” She felt a spiritual connection with Trey. There was no questioning that, but she didn’t have any idea what he meant.
“My middle name is Sol. Like the sun.”
Reagan giggled.
“I told you that you’d laugh. My dad is incredibly clean-cut and my mom was a flower child. Dad picked out my and Darren’s horrible first names, and Mom picked out our ridiculous middle names.”
“Darren?”
“Dare,” he clarified.
“Oh. But Trey isn’t a horrible name.”
“Terrance is.”
“Nah, it’s not bad. At least you weren’t named after two presidents.”
“If you tell me your middle name is Bush, I’m not sure I’ll be able to continue.”
“Nope, it’s worse than Bush.”
“Most things are worse than bush.” He drew his fingers through the small triangle of pubic hair on her mound.
She slapped him while stifling a grin. “Naughty.”
“So tell me what it is or I won’t be able to concentrate. I’ll be too busy trying to think of presidents’ names. Is it Kennedy? Reagan Kennedy is kind of cute.”
“I wish.”
“Johnson? That’s almost as good as bush.” He glanced up at her and actually flushed. “I mean if you like cock. Which I don’t. But you probably do.”
She covered his mouth with one hand. “It’s Eisenhower.”
Trey sniggered. “You don’t expect me to actually believe that,” he said, his words muffled by her hand.
“I’ll show you my birth certificate sometime. My father is the quintessential Republican, and my mother couldn’t care less what he named me. Can we not talk about our parents? It’s a major mood killer.”
She moved her hand and pushed his head down gently, wanting to know what magic that tongue jewelry of his was capable of inflicting. This was not the sexiest conversation they’d ever had.
“I will never complain about my name again, Reagan Eisenhower Elliot.”
“You have no reason to, Terrance Sol Mills.”
Trey shuddered. “Now that you know all my secrets you have to stay with me forever.”
Reagan laughed and threaded her fingers through his silky hair. “I don’t think I could learn all of your secrets in a lifetime, Trey Mills.”
“Another reason to stick around.” His lips brushed her belly and goose bumps rose to the surface of her skin. “I have some good ones.”
He suckled a trail down her lower belly, occasionally drawing the metallic ball in a circle as he made his way to the rapidly swelling flesh between her thighs. When the tip of his tongue flicked her clit, she sucked a ragged breath through her teeth. The anticipation was killing her. He seemed intent on increasing her need rather than alleviating it. His lips moved up to her belly again, sucking a spot just beneath her navel that drove her absolutely insane.
“Trey. Trey,” she chanted.
“Hmm?” he murmured against her belly. He traced the rim of her belly button with his tongue, catching the stud on her skin and tugging it in a way that made her head swim. Now if only he’d take that circular tracing a little lower.
Fingers tangled in his hair, she pressed his head downward. He allowed her to direct him where she wanted him, his delightful tongue working against her swollen lips and then between them to her throbbing clit. He latched on with a hard suction and flicked his stud against the sensitive bit of flesh. Orgasm rapidly approached. She fought it, wanting more. It felt so good that she wasn’t ready for it to end. She wondered what his tongue would feel like a few inches lower. She pressed his head down again and he released her clit. He changed the way he moved his tongue, tracing the rim of her opening repeatedly and then pressed a bit deeper. Deeper still. The contrast between his softer tongue and that hard little ball had Reagan writhing against his face. He moved a few inches down without her prompting, catching the ball in his tongue on the rim of her anus and tugging repeatedly. No penetration. Just teasing the surface. She shuddered.
Reagan wasn’t much into anal play, but even that felt amazing. He nibbled on one swollen labium and sucked it into his mouth, rubbing that wondrous stud along the slick surface slowly at first and then faster, increasing her building excitement with each stroke. He repeated this on the other side and then latched onto her clit again. The flick of tongue sent her over the edge. He slammed two fingers into her pu**y as she came, rotating them in wide arcs, working against her clenching muscles.
As her tremors stilled she became aware of her hands gripping his hair and the steady stream of swear words she was shouting into the small room. Her body relaxed against the counter and the mirror at her back. She released his hair and smoothed it with both hands.
“Sorry,” she murmured. “I got carried away.”
He licked a trail up her belly, his face tilted so he could look at her as he made his way upward. “That’s the whole point,” he said. He latched onto her nipple, sucking and flicking her favorite bit of metal in the world against the sensitive peak. His fingers began to glide in and out of her body in the same rhythm.
“Can I tell you something?” he asked.
“Yeah. Of course.”
“I’ve never had sex without a condom.”
She smiled. “That’s good. Very responsible.”
“Have you?”
She could feel the heat of embarrassment rise up her face. “Well, yeah, but only with steady boyfriends. After we both got checked out at the clinic, of course. Does that thought bother you?”
He shook his head. “Do you consider me your steady boyfriend?”
Oh, that’s what this was about. “Yeah. I suppose I do.”
“Do you want to make an appointment at the clinic with me?”
She nodded.
He grinned. “Good, because I forgot to bring a condom again. If this keeps happening, I’m going to end up with a permanent stiffy.”
She laughed and hugged him. “I don’t think that would be so bad.”
Chapter 12
Reagan couldn’t keep her hands off Trey. She had watched him from the crowd at numerous Sinners concerts so she knew what to expect, but watching him get ready for the show gave a whole new meaning to the man’s stage persona. He inserted hoops and studs into all of his piercings, but removed that glorious one from his tongue that he’d shared with her earlier. He gelled his hair so his bangs covered his eye as usual, but a shorter strip down the center of his head stood on end. She watched him button up a worn plaid shirt and slide into his baggy jeans. She helped him fasten leather cuffs around his wrists and several chains around his neck. He added another pair of silver chains to hang in loops along one hip. Hell, even his white socks in tacky contrast with his black canvas shoes were trademark and reminded her who her boyfriend really was—the Trey Mills. A hole in his jeans just inches from his crotch continually drew Reagan’s attention. If she stuck her finger in that hole—and she had several times—she could slide her fingers over the black silk of his boxers. Standing backstage, sucking on a cherry sucker, and rocking up on his toes with nervous energy, Trey Mills was a walking aphrodisiac.