He doesn’t stop me a second time when I walk past him.
“Trevor, you have to leave,” I say.
I gently nudge him on the shoulder to wake him up. His big body takes up most of my bed.
“I don’t want to go,” he grumbles.
“You have to before morning.” I smile, straddling his hips.
“One more time before I go.”
He brings my lips to his for a passionate kiss. I grip the base of his dick, guiding him into my pussy. Once I’m completely filled, I begin to rock my hips back and forth at a steady pace. My pussy is sore since we’ve fucked several times now. Trevor groans and deepens our kiss. Josh knows about Trevor’s nighttime visits, but he gets pissed if he hears us, so I try to keep as quiet as possible. As I feel my orgasm building, I increase my speed. Trevor grips my ass to hold me still so he can take over the pace of our fucking. He thrusts his hips upwards in a frantic motion. My pussy clenches as I climax. He slams into me until he finds his own release.
“Eu te amo,” I whisper against his ear.
“I love you too,” he replies gruffly.
He rolls me under him and runs kisses along my collarbone.
“I want to stay for a few more hours.”
“No.” I swat him on the butt. “You have to go.” I laugh.
“Fine. Come over for dinner and a movie tomorrow night,” he says.
“Is your mom cooking her famous meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans? If she is, I’ll be there with bells on.”
“I’ll make that request just for you.”
He pulls his softening dick out of me and leaves the bed to dress. I roll to my side to watch him, my head resting on my upturned hand.
“See you later, babe,” he says.
“Okay.”
He pecks my lips before moving my thick purple curtains to the side to climb out the window and down the trellis.
I leave my bed and put on my panties and T-shirt, then head downstairs for a bottle of water.
As I approach the kitchen, I hear a noise coming from the hall leading to Art’s bedroom. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I change directions. I see light shining from underneath the door.
Art must still be awake.
My steps falter. Do I really want to poke the bear?
“Cole, I’m coming! Don’t give up! Stay above the water.”
He’s having a nightmare.
“Cole, I’m so sorry… so sorry. I should’ve been there for you.”
His voice is filled with sorrow. I lightly knock on the door.
“Art, are you okay?”
No answer.
I twist the doorknob and push. I slowly walk towards Art as he thrashes in the middle of the bed, drenched in sweat, with only boxer briefs hiding his nudity. I take in the tattoo on his chest. I wonder how many tattoos he has. As I move closer, I see cuts covering his hard abs, some fresh blood still seeping from them. On the nightstand, there’s a razor covered in blood. It takes me a few seconds to process the scene before me.
