Hello all! It's been exactly a month since I updated lol. I'm super sorry that I always take so long on this story but life gets in the way too, too much. A lot has happened for the better in this past month! So I'm happy lol.

Anyway, this chapter is about three thousand words longer than usual because:

1. I love you all

2. The response on this story has been so great that I've decided to put more work into it

3. I kinda got carried away :P

I hope you enjoy it! Oh and it's not safe for work lol. Just an FYI :)

G.

..

...

"...and then she says, Oh, he's good at...'" she pauses for a second and shrugs a little, "You know, from behind. The audacity." She complains to Mel as the older woman is finishing her nails, getting them in a deep purple for more of a fall color. She didn't want sexy and scandalous, not this time. "I worked all day with her and the guy, and no one had the decency to tell me I had a big hickey on the back of my neck."

She was still extremely embarrassed about it. Her job, though she originally took it for unprofessional reasons, is something she takes very seriously. She loves her job, even if she doesn't necessarily like the imbeciles she works with. The hickey was completely unprofessional of her, and she just wondered how many people on the flight reported her for indecency or something stupid like that.

Mel clears her throat a bit as she smooths out the acrylic, the step before polish, "I wish I could've helped, sweetheart. I could've, if I would've raised my son to be nicer to women..." She shakes her head and keeps it down, focusing on the nails she's working on.

"It wasn't even Tom's fault." Trina says in defense of her captain, though she's still ticked at him too. "He was flying the plane, probably never even saw the back of my neck. I don't know. Even if he did..." She shakes her head and sighs, "Still. It's just, I though I could at least trust Patty and Rex to tell me when I have a hickey." She gripes.

Mel nods in agreement, "I understand, honey." She says, clearing her throat again. She looks up and takes a deep, heavy breath and starts to speak into Trina's eyes this time, "Tom...little Tommy isn't a bad guy. He just...treats his women like shit because he thinks he needs to. He was around his dad too much growing up." She shrugs and furrows her brows, "He's got a sweet heart, just like you. You just have to peel back those hard, Chicago, crusty layers of him to find that sweetened heart. He thinks-"

"He thinks sex is the way for everything. And yeah, I may agree with him for some of it but sometimes it's...I mean, if you were in my position, would you have wanted him to still be sleeping with other women?" Trina interrupts and asks, raising a sly brow.

Mel purses her lips and takes the polish in her hand, opening it and preparing the brush to be used, "I wouldn't have gotten myself in your position." She says, and Trina is taken aback slightly.

Was she calling her a slut? Was she insulting her was she being honest? It hurt her a little, because again, her trust was broken.

She shakes her head with the frown still being worn on her face, "What do you mean?" She asks as the woman starts with her index finger.

After a moment, Mel stops and looks up. "I wasn't exactly the best girl at your age either, honey, but...you got yourself in that position. You wanted the sex, not the love first." She shrugs and shakes her head, "And that's honesty. To me, I don't see you as a slutty type but in order to get Tom, that's what you have to be. Because he won't take the bait for love." She admits, frowning deeply at the words she just had to speak.

Trina looks away and over her shoulder slightly, staying silent the rest of the way. Maybe it brought her down off her high horse about Patty and Rex a little, but it kind of stomped her in the ground about her nightlife. Maybe she was right, but she wasn't about to admit that to herself.

After the set of nails is polished and made to shine, they both stand up. Mel clears her throat. "Free of charge today, only if you promise me that you'll get it together a little." She says, swallowing thickly and looking Trina in the eyes as she walks over the register.

Trina frowns, "Get it together?"

"As in, stop messing around with men who'll break your heart, honey. They're no good." She clarifies, and Trina frowns again, about to speak. Mel stops her by putting her hand on her wrist, "I'm serious. I know I really have no place to tell you that, other than the place of experience. Okay?"

At first, Trina wants to lose it and cuss this woman out. She does have no right, she's completely and totally correct. But...maybe she's just the person she needed. Maybe she's the messenger that she won't kill. "Okay." She chokes out, looking down and carefully digging through her wallet to get a twenty. "I'm still paying you, and if you won't take it for the nails, take it for a tip." She says, giving the woman a look and then closing her wallet and sticking it back into her purse.

She clears her throat again and sighs, "Did Tom tell you to tell me to stop, or was it all you, Mel?" She asks.

The older woman swallows hard, biting her lip. "Maybe that's a question for him, sweetie." She says, smiling sadly and sighing. "I have more customers, I'll keep an ear out for your next appointment okay? Be careful up there in those skies." She smiles sadly and nods, turning to go back to her station and start on another client.

It makes Trina smile – the thought of someone actually caring about her, for her. It made her happy inside and she nodded as a thank you before leaving. Leaving Mel, only to go see her son.

..

"Tom." She says quietly, walking closer to the payphone and taking a deep breath before she starts speaking again, "It's Trina...I just-"

"Are you okay?" He asks immediately, cutting her sentence short.

Under usual circumstances, she'd be beyond livid if any human being cut her off like that. That fiery Latina side from her father and the hot Italian blood would boil, but this time it made her heart warm and swell with happiness. He cares. He actually, really cares. Just like Mel. Well, maybe not as much as Mel. But he cares. "Yes, yes...I'm fine. I was just...hoping we could maybe talk?" She breathes out, a bit of a smile on her lips as she tries to hide it by biting her lower one, but her stomach is flipping.

"Talk?"

"Talk." Talk, Tom. Talk. It's not that hard, Trina thinks to herself before clearing her throat and starting again, "I left things badly in that shack on the beach and I don't want it to be between us. We still fly on the same crew – every day, every hour we spend together is uncomfortable because there's things that were left unsaid between us. And yes, before you ask, I did talk to your mother. So I know you have a little bit of care for me in you, so please don't blow this off." It all tumbles out, and she widens her eyes in the reflection of the metal on the booth. She didn't mean to let that all spew like she did...but it's too late to take it back now.

He answers after a short, silent moment, "Come to my apartment." He says, then tells her the directions so that she can get there.

The whole time he's speaking to her, she's writing it down but it's not really sinking in. She's not listening to the words he's speaking, she's listening to how tired and dead-sounding he is. It makes her wonder why, but she decides to not ask. They're not in a relationship. They're barely even friends, right now. She has no place in his business. "Thank you, I'll be there as soon as I can get a cab." She replies at the end of his directions.

She hangs up, grabs her purse from between her feet, then turns and catches a cab almost immediately (which is very rare for her). Maybe, just maybe, she was really supposed to go there today. Maybe it was really just...fate. Nah.

Once she's arrived and paid the cab fair, she sneers as she stands in front of his apartment. Apartment is used loosely. Her apartment isn't a dump, but it's a dump compared to this place. And ooh, will he get it for not telling her he lives in a place like this. (But then again, why would he need to tell her? They're not in a relationship. And no, she doesn't want to be. They're worthless).

She steps up to his door finally after huffing a big and heavy breath out, rolling her eyes a bit and knocks. He answers only seconds later, smiling tiredly. "Come in." He says, yawning a bit and moving out of the way as he holds the door for her to step in.

Doing what he says, she steps in and looks around instinctively. It makes her feel nosey, but she can't take her eyes off the beautiful structure of this apartment.

It's not luxurious, no, but it's just what she's dreamed of. Brick walls, windows upon windows for natural lighting, an iron staircase. It's a two-room deal, meaning it has a living room, kitchen, and small table in one room, and a bathroom and bed in the other room. It's not big, it's not overboard – it's perfe- no. She can't be falling for his apartment right now.

She sits, he sits across from her, and she sets her purse down beside her as she looks at him. "Tom." She says, a bit of coldness in her voice.

"Trina..." He replies, taking a deep breath.

A moment of silence again, just like the silence that came after her spewing all that "you care" stuff at him. Then, all at once, they speak. "I-" and they stop, and one looks at the other for them to speak, and they both speak again, "I-"

It results in a smile on both of their faces, and Trina finally gets her words out first, "I came to say that I'm sort of sorry for how I treated you. But...I also came-"

"For an apology from me, which is what you get. I'm sorry too, Trina." He says, clearing his throat and looking down guiltily. He's sitting with his feet parted and his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together as he hangs his head down between his shoulders. "That night wasn't exactly a banner night for me, really. It shouldn't have mattered, but damn I was being a turkey. A drunk turkey." He admits, and it makes her snicker quietly.

"A turkey? That's the word you choose in this?" She asks, smirking a little bit as he looks up at her with a bit of a crooked, goofy smile.

He shakes his head as his smile grows, "A turkey, Tri. Like, a jerk." He explains.

"I know, I know." She replies, laughing and shaking her head, "It's just...a drunk turkey sounds..."

"Okay, fine...damn I was being a jerk. Better?"

"Better." She nods, becoming serious. Though her serious face was trying to be held, that laugh was trying to come back out.

He sighs and rolls his eyes with a bit of a smirk again, looking back down and returning to his original position. He clears his throat before speaking, "And yeah, I shouldn't have kept pushing a relationship. But...with you jumping all over me for having sex with other women – which I hadn't done, thank you for the false accusation – it just made me go too far."

"Yes, it did." She says, a bit of saltiness in her tone. She looks away for a moment, stares out the window. The sun is setting, and she can only think about the sunset on the beach that day when they were drinking and having a good time instead of working things out between each other. "I don't do relationships, Tom. If I'm sleeping with someone consistently, they're my lover. They're not my boyfriend. Or my fiance. Or my husband. None of the above. I-"

"Why?" He interrupts, this time it makes her fiery side want to flare, but she ignores it.

She sighs, looking back at him, "I just don't. Maybe, maybe one day you'll learn why but not right now. I don't tell anyone why I don't make relationships and you're not an exception. I'm sorry, but I just don't." When she sees the confusion on his face, the little bit of hurt, she softens her expression and loosens her body up a little to not seem like she's coming off like such an ass. "No one knows but me, Tom. It's not that I don't like you – I do, but as a friend. And as a lover."

Silence again. Damn it. The silence is driving her insane, and she just wants this over with. Fate, again, turned out to just be tricking her.

He clears his throat, nodding, "If that's the way you feel." He says, "I can't be just lovers. I'll be your friend."

"No sex?" She asks, raising her brow.

He shrugs, and she almost wonders now if he's punishing her. "No sex. I mean, I don't cheat on women. I sleep with one at a time, just like you sleep with one man at a time. So...no. No sex."

She grits her teeth together, wanting to say something back, but decides to leave it and nod. They're friends. That's better than how they were earlier today when she was badmouthing him to his mother. "Okay." She says, raising her brows. "See you tomorrow, then."

"Wait, you don't wanna stay for dinner or anything? I already have it on the stove."

"You cook?" She scoffs a laugh, smirking. "Are you sure you're of the male species?" She teases lightheartedly, trying to forget the soreness she has with him – still.

He gives her a look back, rolling his eyes, "This is the 1970's and being a single man doesn't help. Even if I did have a girl, she probably wouldn't cook for me thanks too all this women's rights stuff." He says, giving her a sly expression and standing. "Come on, just stay for dinner. No strings attached." He shrugs, putting his hands in the pockets of his bright yellow shorts.

She sighs and swallows thickly, shifting uncomfortably in her seat and looking up at him with only her eyes, "Okay." She says, "No strings attached."

..

Domesticity has never really been her thing, but she feels the want to help Tom cook. He's not a bad chef, but she just thinks it would be a nice gesture to jump in and help. So, that's what she does. They decide together on spaghetti with Tom's special sauce that he makes, and Trina works on simply boiling the pasta and making a salad for the two of them to share as he works continuously at the stove, keeps stirring the sauce and adding a little bit here and there of certain things. The things she's seen him put in seem random, but she's confident in him.

"Spaghetti is ready when you are." She announces, setting the pot of hot spaghetti noodles on a pot rag in the center of the table. She's set it with plates and forks and two bowls for their salads. Once she does that, she finishes their salads by putting a little bit of cheddar cheese on the top. "Ranch dressing?" She asks, looking at all of his dressings in the refrigerator door.

He nods softly, turning the burner off and grabbing a mitt to grab the hot pan with, "Sounds good." He replies, bringing the pan to the tabe and grabbing the serving spoon to stir it one last time. He sets the spoon in the pan, resting the handle on the side, then grabs two glasses. "Wine?" He asks, and when she nods, he asks again, "Red wine?"

"Is there any other kind?" She teases, smirking a little as she gets the napkins and sets them out nicely on the table.

His smirk is invisible to her while she has her head down, smoothing her skirt out beneath her so she can sit down in the chair. He pours the two glasses, and sits down across from her. "Thank you for coming over, and for staying, Trina." He says.

She looks up when she hears her name used the correct way, smiling a tiny bit and nodding. "I wanted to set things right." She says, clearing her throat. "I mean really, you should thank Mel." She shrugs and looks down, dipping some salad from the larger bowl into her bowl and smothering it in dressing. "She's looking out for me for some reason." She says, giving a small shrug again.

He sighs, looking down as he scrapes the remainder of salad into his bowl, "That's because she's just a caring person. She's always done that, been real motherly to girls." He shrugs and sighs again, pouring dressing onto his now. "She was like you, you know."

"Like me?"

"Like you." He answers, clearing his throat as he takes a bite of salad for the first time. "She was a hooker, walked the streets at night and that's how I came up." He says, looking up and raising his brows. "I stayed with my dad a lot, because she was real unstable until I was about thirteen and then she suddenly cleaned up and became a better parent to me than my dad had ever been. I finished out my teenage years with her mostly, staying the summers with my dad, and when he died when I was nineteen, I moved out and became a pilot." He shrugs, sighing and looking down into his salad bowl for a silent moment. "Mom has been through a lot. And she doesn't want you goin' down the same path, I guess."

"I'm not a hooker." Trina corrects, slightly offended again like she was with Mel earlier.

He looks back up, "I know you're not a hooker, in that term exactly. But you said it yourself, Trina...you sleep with a lot of different people. You can get messed up bad doin' that." He says sadly, "She doesn't want that and I don't either..."

"You care?" She scoffs, rolling her eyes back down into her salad, taking another bite – it's gone mostly untouched as she was somewhat frozen while listening to him explain his mother's past. "If you cared, you would've told me about my little love mark the other day on that flight." She says, still bitter about that.

"Love mark?" He asks, frowning and furrowing his brow.

She nods, "Like you didn't see it..." She murmurs, now downing the salad like it's going to run out from under her soon.

"I didn't, actually. Was it the day I was sick?"

"You've been there each day I have, Tom."

"That doesn't mean I paid any attention..."

She sits back in her chair. She's not sure whether she's annoyed because she thinks he may be lying, or if she's annoyed because he didn't pay attention to her, or if she's annoyed just...because it's Tom. She extends her arm to reach for the wine, taking it in her hand and tipping it back to her mouth. Her eyes never leave him, she's staring him down to see if he sweats. He sweats when he lies. After a moment, she clears her throat and sets the glass back down on the table, "Okay, you may have a point." She states, "But I still don't believe you care..."

"Well, maybe it's time for you to just open your eyes and see that someone actually cares a little bit about you, Trina. We don't wanna see you hurt." He states, making her sink in her chair again.

Sit up straight, Trina. Her mother's voice plays in the back of her mind, and she realizes that, yes, maybe they do care about her. That, yes, maybe she should be a little more open to caring people. And that, yes, maybe her mother wasn't a great person to her for not caring for her, but it doesn't mean that no one else can care for her. She's, again, humbled and put back in her place a bit. She's not liking this whole humbling thing. At all, really. "Okay, so maybe you care. Let's say you do. Then why didn't you try to talk to me first?"

"Because you probably would've just spit on my shoe like – oh! Like you did in the airport the other day?" He says sarcastically. "Ring a bell?"

She rolls her eyes, "You're hilarious." She states dryly, taking a bite out of her spaghetti now. "I had a good reason to. You wouldn't let go of my arm like I asked you to." With that, he seems to take a mental step back and humble himself a little. It makes Trina smirk a little, "Exactly. You know I'm right. You were wrong to hold onto me like that."

"Okay, but-"

"No buts." She grins a bit, biting her lip before taking another bite. "Just eat."

Surprisingly, he listens. He's such an ass-kiss, she thinks. But, hey, if it lets her get her way, she's okay with him ass-kissing. Perfectly fine with it.

..

After dinner was finished, he helped her clean the table up and do the dishes. She would wash, he would dry. It was a nice little operation until he smacked her playfully with the rag on the front of her thigh, and she gasps over-dramatically.

"You did not." She yawps, curling her face up into a nasty one towards him before grabbing her sponge and slapping it across the front of his shirt.

He looks down with furrowed brows, "Was that supposed to be threatening?" He teases, but keeps his voice in a serious tone that makes her even angrier.

Grabbing the sponge again, soaking it with water, she rings it out of the top of his head. She has to get on her tip-toes, but the water pours down into his hair and he wrinkles his clean-shaven face up as it runs down his skin. "Threatening enough for you?" She quips, turning back to her dishes and smiling to herself as she starts washing the last few pots and pans.

His face contorts again after he wipes his face mostly dry, then grabs her by her waist and pulls her back against his chest, grabbing the sponge straight from her hand. He smiles against the back of her bare neck before ringing it out in one hand, right into her cleavage. He holds her in one spot so it slowly, chillingly drips down her bosom and into her shirt. "Oh...you little bast-"

"Ah, ah, ah." He smirks, "Feel that? Feels good...doesn't it?" He whispers into her ear.

She cranes her head to look back at him, the wetness running down her shirt beginning to be nothing compared to the wetness between her thighs. "What are you doing?" She asks in a low tone, not quite husky enough to have a seductive aura to it, but close enough.

His hand slowly move to be able to turn her in his arms. She's feeling every move, feeling his breath begin to speed, feeling...him harden against her leg. Everything. "I'm just having a friendly hug." He excuses, biting his lip to stop himself from smiling, though it's a failed attempt. He smiles big anyway, still keeping his lip bit in between his teeth.

But his teeth let his lip loose in a hurry, because she's leaning in quickly for a passionate kiss. Her body rolls against his, her arms making their way up to wrap around the back of his neck, her eyes shutting in a desperate movement to feel him again. She never will admit it, probably, but she's missed his lips on hers, his tongue down her throat, and- oh. Oh, his cock rubbing against her thigh, making her clench her eyes shut and making her stomach flip in weird ways.

He makes her feel awkward, like the same teenager who was in love with that McPartlain boy, fucking way too often in his back seat. She feels like a virgin each time, feels anxious and clammy, not a pro like she should be. This is what she likes, maybe. The feeling of anticipation that's been gone for so long with every other man she's been with. This is it.

Her hands unlock from her forearms and she slides them across his back, up his shoulders with her fingernails, and rubbing them in circles on his neck. She stops only momentarily, then continues to move down with her nails – still – and up his shirt. She moves the soft material, just a plain tee shirt that he somehow looks great in. The simplicity of this man somehow turns her on.

Soon his shirt is up around his chest and her hands are roaming around to his lower back, making their way down his pants and sliding around the hem of them until they meet again in the front. Backing away from his lips, she smiles shyly as she works on the button of his shorts, slowly unzipping the fly and kissing down his chest. "Let's forget these past few weeks." She whispers between kisses, smirking as he seems to be frozen in place as she gently drags her fingernails across his length and his underwear. "Let's just have fun."

With that, he finally moves from his place and picks her up under her ass, lifting her to his hips in a smooth motion, and gently pressing her up against the wall. He kisses down her chest, now, whispering, "I thought you'd never ask."

She smiles a bit, but is too infatuated by his baby face kisses going down her cleavage and stopping at the beginning of her shirt each time. It makes her wish her shirt was off, and she swears he read her mind because he's lifting it up off of her skin, over her head, and throwing it somewhere behind him. "No longer need that." He whispers.

Sticking two fingers in the top of her lacy bra, he pulls down slowly and runs those same two fingers over an erect nipple. Trina moans out in appreciation, quietly but approvingly. "This is uncomfortable." She finally admits, the wall pinching the skin on her back as she sort of slides down it. Not two seconds later, he's lifting her away from the wall and reaching his hands behind her, unlatching her bra and letting it fall and gather up between their bodies. "Thank you." She whispers as she realizes he's keeping his hands there to make her more comfortable.

If she weren't so high on sexy thoughts, she'd think of how much of a gentleman he is just for doing that. But with him sucking on her nipple...no such thoughts were there.

"Tom..." She whispers, her head tilting back as her hips grind into his, biting her lip to stifle a moan. "Take me to your bed." It's something that usually doesn't happen for her – being taken to someone's bed in their own bedroom. Normal hook-ups, she's doing it in weird places or in hotel rooms. It's a nice feeling, it's that feeling of being a virgin yet again. "Please." She adds, and he lets go of her nipple with a loud pop and looks up into her eyes with a crooked, sex-filled smile before nodding.

The transition from his downstairs living area to his upstairs sleeping area (or, tonight, sex area) is completely uncoordinated and definitely messy. He tripped up the stairs once, making her reach out for the railing and laughing huskily. "You're such a clutz."

"Only with you." He admits, his voice huskier than hers. It makes her smile re-appear bigger than before...he's got that weird feeling too. It's not a bad kind of weird, but that...weird and awkward feeling. She's not alone.

To make him feel a bit better, she runs her fingers through his hair and lifts herself up a little so that her breasts are up close to his face. "Are you nervous or something?" She asks, smiling shyly.

He makes it to the bed and lets her fall back gently onto it, climbing on top of her and keeping one knee on each side of her. He takes her arms and gently presses them above her head, looking into her eyes, "Only with you." He repeats, swallowing thick and licking his bottom lip a little as a smile slowly appears.

She grabs his cheeks softly and pulls him down to kiss her, rolling them over so that she's sitting on his hips again. She likes that feeling – him under her. "I'm on top tonight." She whispers, sucking both lips in as she gets a shy, schoolgirl expression on her face. "Just lie there and appreciate doing nothing."

It makes him smile, definitely, and his hands are roaming in places that make her eyes close out of natural motions. She jolts forward when he grabs her ass a little too hard, "Easy with the goods, Tom." She says quietly and calmly, smiling a little with her eyes still closed. She knows he's smiling, she heard his lips part. She peeks an eye open just to make sure, then leans down to kiss him and lay flat on top of him so that he can work her pants down her legs.

She's thankful that the pants go down easy without being unbuttoned, but she's also regretting not wearing anything nicer than just plain, white underwear. He liked that the last time, she's pretty sure.

"I like the underwear." He teases, smiling up at her as he smoothly runs his hands along her ass, using open palms just to show he's there.

She smiles and it comes out to be shier than she really meant for it to be, "They're plain."

"They're yours." He answers, "So they're automatically sexy and beautiful in a hundred different ways."

Again, if her mind wasn't clouded with sex, she would think that he's such an ass-kisser. But...

"You flatter me." She says, trying to come off more confident this time as she smiles, "Too much." She whispers, leaning down again to kiss him, her tongue sliding in and mingling nicely with his. Thankfully, he's sliding her underwear down her legs and she helps him by kicking them off, onto the floor.

His hands are roaming again, finding new things that he's once explored but just finding again. Gently parting her cheeks, sliding a finger in to feel how wet she is. The sloshing sound that comes from there makes her face blush, biting her lip again as he says, "You're wet."

"And here I thought you were Captain Decker, not Captain Obvious." She quips, swallowing thickly to try and hide her slight embarrassment.

He must see that redness in her cheeks, because he's gently pushing her curls back away from her forehead and running that same, free hand down her back. "I love it." He assures, smiling with his eyes. "It means you're excited for me."

She shouldn't be excited. She doesn't want to be excited. This should just be a...fling. But she can't stop her natural, bodily functions and tell them that, no, they should indeed not be excited for him. But deep down, she knows that she would beg for him if it came down to it. She just hasn't admitted that to herself yet.

She slides her tongue between her lips, deciding to not answer that and just start a new subject, "Enough foreplay..." She whispers, "I'm going to bust." She says, chuckling a little bit as she works his underwear down his legs between them. Again, it's awkward and messy, but they manage to get them off and onto the floor, on top of Trina's plain white ones.

As she sits on her knees, hovering over him, she rubs his cock gently. She doesn't want to be so harsh with him like she did that first time, she doesn't want to make this quick. She wants to make it last so she can come over and over and over and over. And over again. But...no. Stop. He's just a fling...

"That feels amazing." He mutters, his eyes rolling in the back of his head before he closes them, pushing his lips together tightly before moaning.

She brings a hand up to his face, tracing the corner of his lip with her index and middle finger, "Let it out." She whispers as she slowly positions him under her, gently sliding down onto his length. "Let all of it out..." She mutters, shutting her eyes as he finally fills her again.

It's been way too long.

His hands come up to rest in the curve of her hips, doing as she said and letting out a moan, "You...we...need to do this more often." He mumbles, peeking one eye open and smiling like she had just a few minutes before that.

She chuckles, closing her eyes and letting both hands rest on his chest, helping her move her body to push up and slide down on him. Her head falls back, moaning quietly as her fingers curl and her nails gently dig into his skin. She has to keep her mouth shut...she has a feeling she's about to say something that she doesn't need to say. That she missed this. She missed this way too much.

Instead of speaking, she bites her lip and moves her hips in one big circle on him a few times, sliding her chest on his as she bends over and grinds on the tip of his cock. That was great, until he slipped out. She chuckles awkwardly when she sees him blush, and this is her chance, "You slipped out." She says, getting back at him for his statement of you're wet.

It brings a goofy smile to his lips and he nods, "I did indeed." He admits and slides his hand under them to help her slide back onto him. They moan in unison, Trina grabbing onto his shoulders as she clenches her eyes shut, sliding all the way down on him.

"Oh..." She grunts, rolling her hips so his tip just keeps rolling over that amazing, beautiful, wonderful little spot inside of her that so many men fail to find. "That feels so good." She whispers, moaning again as her upper body gets a little bit limp, feeling the ball of heat in her lower belly, and then clenching around his cock so tight that it makes both of their bodies jolt.

She's hit her high so quickly, and oh shit, he has too. Inside of her. She pulls up and off quickly, sliding over to the side of him. "I'm sorry, Tri...holy shit I didn't mean to bust that quick..." He says nervously, rubbing his head as he sits up awkwardly and slowly.

But no, that's not even her problem. Yeah, she wanted some more of him tonight, but that's not happening now. I mean, she let the condom slide simply because she's let it slide with him before. But...no. "You could've warned me." She whispers, somewhat hurt that he didn't.

Why is she hurt? Damn it, Trina...stop. He didn't mean to. And he clarifies that by telling her so, "I didn't mean to, Tri..." He says sadly, crawling over to her and wrapping her in a sheet like a perfect gentleman. "Hey...I'm really sorry." He says, close to her cheek now as his arms are wrapped around her as well, "Please...please just stay the night with me tonight." He asks, high hopes that she's not mad.

And she's not really mad...just...that ball of worry is there. Every time she feels one more drip of him onto her thigh, it makes her worry. "You're not the one who would have to worry about a baby, just because someone didn't pull out." She says bitterly, returning back to her cold self as before. "But because you didn't mean it," She starts, closing her eyes and swallowing hard, "I'll stay."

She means it, but she feels scared and nervous. She's had this happen once before, once with Luke. Her senior year, she thought she was pregnant and she knew there was a possibility. Come to find out, she was. But the baby didn't make it, and her mom beat her ass as soon as she got home from the hospital after the miscarriage. It's burned in her memory forever, and she's always been cautious.

"I really am sorry, Tri." He says again, and she hears the nerves in his voice. She opens her eyes and takes a shaky breath.

Her voice, she knows, is filled with nerves, too, as she says, "It's okay." and lays down, wrapped up in the sheet as he pulls the blanket over the both of them and lies down beside her.

So much for no strings attached.

..

...

Oi vei. Trina needs a lesson from the Mean Girls sex-ed teacher: "Don't have sex. You will get pregnant and die."

Bahahahaha.

Make sure to review the crappppp outta this please because I adore your beautiful words about this story :) And if anyone has any constructive criticism (meaning, DON'T BE SO RUDE! Lol) feel free to comment it! What you do like, what you don't like...anything and everything. Because I love you. And if you love me too, then you'll leave your wonderful words ;)

Okay I'm done. Excuse me...it's past my bedtime.

G.