All Is Fair: A Trent Alexander-Arnold x Kylian Mbappè x Original Character Erotic Series.
The end of the football season brought with it a harsh reality Trent understood better than most. No matter how deep the passion or unwavering the commitment, football was still a business. And for David; his teammate, his brother, that business had decided his time at Real Madrid was over.
Rosa heard Trent out in the hall before the door to the guest bedroom she occupied eased open, revealing him standing on the other side.
âHey,â she smiled softly as he entered the room, wordlessly taking a seat on the edge of the bed as she sat at the vanity, teasing her fingers through the lose waves of her thick black hair.
âReady?â he asked flatly, and Rosa noticed his energy immediately.
Even as a man of few words, she could tell something wasn't right with him. Despite the tension and things that remained unspoken between them, she knew him well enough to know he wasn't okay
âYes, I was just finishing up,â Rosa replied, placing down the brush she held before standing on her bare, perfectly pedicured feet so she could cross the room toward him.
âIs everything okay?â she asked cautiously.
Trent allowed his eyes to linger on her instead of offering a response, taking in the way the fitted capris hugged her curves and the soft cream-and-brown cardigan sat against her skin. The look was effortless in a way that somehow made it worse. It was as if she didn't understand the effect she had on him, even when she was simply existing.
His gaze lifted slowly to hers.
âI asked you a question.â
âYou make it difficult not to.â A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, though it didnât quite reach his eyes.
âThat wasnât an answer,â Rosa said as she folded her arms loosely across her chest.
Trent sighed, because he knew it wasnât an answer.
Rosa had always been observant of him. Most people accepted whatever explanation he offered and moved on. She never did. She noticed the things he didnât say. The pauses between words. The slight tension in his jaw. The way his shoulders seemed heavier than usual.
For the briefest moment, she thought he might actually tell her the truth. Instead, his gaze drifted away from her face and landed on the pair of shoes waiting to be slipped into.
âYouâre wearing those?â he asked suddenly, nodding toward the brown Amina Muaddi mules.
Rosa looked at him in disbelief, the subject change was so obvious she almost laughed.
Slowly, one eyebrow lifted.
âYou know,â she said carefully, âthat might be the worst attempt at changing the subject Iâve ever witnessed.â
âI thought it had potential.â Trent teased, a reluctant smile pulled at one corner of his mouth.
âIt absolutely did not.â
His eyes moved around the guestroom avoiding hers, as Rosa folded her arms loosely across her chest and watched him closely.
The easy thing would have been to keep pushing.
She knew him well enough to know that if she kept asking questions, eventually heâd crack. Not because he wanted to talk, but because he knew that her curiosity came from a genuine place.
But she also knew something else about Trent.
When something mattered to him, he needed time before he could articulate it.
So instead of pressing the issue, Rosa took two small steps forward until she was standing close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his muscular frame.
The movement finally drew his attention away from the shoes.
His eyes lifted, and efore he could speak, Rosa reached for him. One hand settling against the side of his neck while the other smoothed down the front of his shirt.
Then she rose onto her toes and kissed him. Soft and deliberate. The kiss wasnât meant to distract him, it wasn't supposed to fix anything. It was simply her way of reminding him that she was around.
Trent froze for the briefest second before instinct took over. His hand slid immediately to her waist, drawing her closer as he hungrily kissed her back, the tension in his shoulders easing with each passing moment.
âIf I undress you weâre going to be late,â Trent drawled as his fingers found the first clasped button on her cardigan.
âDonât even think about it.â Rosa murmured, catching his wrist before he could go any further. The warning lacked any real conviction, and was made weaker still by the smile threatening at the corners of her mouth.
âDonât even think about it,â Rosa murmured, catching his wrist before he could go any further.
The warning lacked any real conviction and was made weaker still by the smile threatening at the corners of her mouth.
Trent looked entirely unconcerned by her attempt at resistance.
âIâm just saying,â he replied, his gaze dropping briefly to where her fingers still wrapped around his wrist. âYou kissed me first.â
âYou looked sad,â she pointed out.
âAnd now?â Rosa asked curiously.
âNow Iâm distracted,â Trent said, the answer lingering for a second before a genuine smile finally broke across his face.
âGood. Stay distracted.â Rosa bit back, rolling her eyes in amusement, turning away from Trent so she could slip on her heels.
Around an hour later, the long driveway leading to Davidâs estate glowed beneath strings of warm lights and a steady stream of arriving guests.
The mansion itself was beautiful.
Music drifted through the open doors toward the gardens beyond, where dozens of players, partners, family members, club staff, and close friends had already gathered. Laughter carrying across the way, blending with the soft hum of low music, conversation and the clinking of glasses.
The party felt less like a farewell and more like a celebration of everything David had built during his years in Madrid.
The moment they stepped through the front entrance, Trent was intercepted. A teammate called his name from across the backyard. Then another.
Then David himself appeared from somewhere inside the house, immediately pulling Trent into a hug that looked more like two brothers greeting each other than teammates saying hi, before he was pulled away again.
Rosa lingered near the entrance, watching Trent disappear into the crowd with the easy stride of someone who belonged there. She didn't. Not yet, maybe not ever.
The marble floor felt cold through her thin heels. She shifted her weight, suddenly aware of the cardigan's clasp still fastened wrong, Trent's fingers having disturbed it earlier.
A waiter passed with champagne flutes arranged on a silver tray. Rosa took one without thinking, the glass cool against her warm palm as she watched the crowd shift around her.
For a few moments, she remained where she was.
Observing, listening. Trying to settle into the space.
The problem was that some of the players and their partners were familiar, and equally not nearly enough at the same time.
Faces sheâd seen at matches. At dinners. At club events. Wives and girlfriends sheâd shared conversations with. Teammates sheâd been introduced in passing. People who knew fragments of her life without ever knowing the whole story.
It shouldnât have bothered her.
Yet standing there alone, watching Trent disappear deeper into the crowd, she became painfully aware of how small football circles really were, much less if both men she'd entertained played for the same team.
Conversations travelled, and rumours travelled even faster. And suddenly a thought she hadnât entertained in weeks crept quietly into the back of her mind.
They know, not everything. Not the private details, but enough. Enough to know sheâd spent time with Kylian. Enough to know that she'd been around while Trent and Charlotte were together, before sheâd eventually turned up beside him. Enough to have formed opinions.
The thought made her stomach tighten unpleasantly.
It bothered her immediately, because she wasnât ashamed. Not of Kylian or Trent.
And she certainly wasnât ashamed of herself.
Yet there was something undeniably uncomfortable about existing inside a story other people thought they understood.
She was overthinking again, a habit she hadn't been able to kick for the last few months.
Trent emerged from a cluster of guests, his eyes finding hers across the way instantly. The champagne flute was still half-full in her hand, the bubbles gone flat.
He closed the distance with the loose-limbed ease Rosa had come to know. His palm settled against the small of her back, warm through the knit of her cardigan.
"Somethings up," he murmured, close enough that his breath warmes the skin at her temple, carrying the faint trace of the whiskey he'd clutched in his hand. His thumb traced a slow stripe against her spine, an idle gesture that felt deliberate. She leaned into it despite herself, the tension in her shoulders softening for a moment.
Then his hand stilled. She felt the subtle shift in his posture, the way his chin lifted slightly as he read something in her face she'd failed to school. "Rosa." Just her name, but weighted with a question he wouldn't ask aloud in this room.
"Bathroom," she said, already stepping away from his touch, the loss of warmth immediate. "I'll find you after."
She didn't wait for his response. The corridor beyond the main room was quieter, lined with framed photographs of David and his family she didn't pause to examine.
Her heels clicked against the marble, faster now, the sound slightly hollow inside. She pushed through the door marked with a serif letter, grateful for the empty room beyond, the soft lighting, the door closing behind her with a decisive click.
The mirror showed her what she'd expected: flushed cheeks, her cardigan's button still crooked. She was reached to fix it when the outer door opened, voices filtering through, and then one voice in particular, low and familiar, speaking to someone in rapid French before the second door swung inward.
Kylian stepped into the powder room, his dark eyes finding hers in the mirror's reflection before he'd fully registered whose back was turned to him. He halted mid-stride, the door drifting closed behind him, his hand still on the handle.
âKylian,â she gasped, her
âKylian,â she breathed, startled enough that the cardigan button slipped from between her fingers.
The sound of his name seemed to pull both of them fully into the moment. For a second neither moved. Neither spoke. The powder room suddenly felt much smaller than it had seconds ago.
The surprise on Kylianâs face quickly gave way to amusement as he leaned back against the door heâd just entered through. One hand remained wrapped around the handle while his eyes swept over her briefly before returning to her face.
âYou look shocked,â he said with a small smile.
âThatâs because I am,â Rosa said, letting out a quiet laugh, shaking her head.
âYou knew Iâd be here.â
âAnd yet here we are.â
His smile widened slightly.
Kylian studied her for a second before his gaze shifted past her toward the door. Then it returned to her again, sharper this time, as though heâd connected a thought.
âYouâre here with Trent?â he asked bluntly.
âWho else?â Rosa shrugged.
âAnyone but him,â Kylian scoffed.
âWhy do you care?â she snapped, offended by his attitude. âWhere is your girlfriend Eliza?â
The question landed exactly where sheâd intended it to.
Kylianâs expression tightened almost immediately, the easy amusement disappearing from his face. He pushed himself away from the door, crossing his arms loosely over his chest as he studied her.
âRosa, Iâm not doing this with you.â
âThis.â He gestured between them. âArguing with you⌠acting like we don't care about each other, you know Trent is not right for you.â
Kylian cautiously raised his hand to Rosaâs cheek, the air between them thickening as he took a single step forward, lessening the space between them.
Rosa should have stepped back. She knew she should've. Instead, she found herself frozen beneath the weight of his gaze.
The noise of the party seemed impossibly far away now. The laughter. The music. The conversations happening somewhere beyond the walls. All of it faded into the background until there was only the two of them standing beneath the soft lighting of the powder room.
âIf you cared about me, you wouldnât be doing this now,â Rosa said quietly.
The words landed between them with enough force to stop whatever had been building.
Kylianâs hand remained against her cheek for a moment longer, but the confidence that had carried him forward seemed to falter. His jaw tightened as he searched her face, as though hoping to find some indication that she didnât mean what sheâd said.
Unfortunately for him, she did.
"Kylian, you told me you did not want a relationship. It's not my business what you do or who you do it with, but from where I stand, it looks like you're in one. If you cared as much as you say you do, you wouldn't be suggesting I do the same thing with you that you looked down on me for doing with Trent," Rosa explained.
âIâve never looked down on you,â Kylian replied immediately, his brows pulling together as frustration crept into his voice. âThatâs not what that was.â
Rosa folded her arms loosely across her chest, though the movement felt more defensive than she intended.
Kylian exhaled sharply, dragging a hand across his jaw before looking away for a second like he was trying to organise thoughts he clearly didnât want to say out loud.
âIt pissed me off,â he admitted finally, his French accent thickening.
âExactly,â Rosa gave a quiet, humorless laugh.
âNo, listen to me.â His eyes snapped back to hers. âIt pissed me off because I cared. Not because I thought less of you.â
âThat doesnât really make it better, Kylian.â
âIt does from my perspective.â
âYou wanted freedom when it came to you, but expectations when it came to me,â Rosa shook her head slowly.
The silence between them stretched awkwardly for a moment. Kylian looked genuinely irritated, though it was more with himself than with her.
âYou think I wanted to see you with him?â he asked bluntly.
âYou donât get to act hurt, or let down about that when you made it very clear you didnât want anything serious,â Rosa bit back.
âI didnât say I didnât care about you.â
âBut you also didnât choose me.â
Kylianâs jaw tightened immediately, his eyes dropping briefly toward the floor before finding her again.
âYou think itâs that simple?â
âI think a pretty Spanish actress is more your speed than I am,â Rosa admitted quietly, though the words tasted bitter leaving her mouth.
Kylianâs expression shifted instantly. Not annoyance, or defensiveness, but something closer to disbelief.
âRosaâŚâ he exhaled, almost offended by the suggestion.
But she continued before he could interrupt.
âShe fits your world better,â Rosa continued, arms tightening across herself now. âPublic. Easy to stand beside without complications. Somebody people expect to see with you.â
Kylian stared at her for a long second like he genuinely couldnât understand how sheâd reached that conclusion.
âYou really think thatâs what this is about?â
âI think image matters to you more than you pretend it does,â she said matter-of-factly
Kylian dragged a frustrated hand through his hair before stepping closer, his jaw tight enough that she could see the tension flex there.
âYou think I care more about appearances than my own feelings?â
âI think if you felt strongly enough,â Rosa replied softly, âyou wouldnât have needed me to exist in grey areas all the time.â That verbal punch hit harder than the others, because it was true.
âAnd Trent doesnât?â Kylian spat, the name leaving his mouth sharper than he intended.
âThatâs none of your concern,â she replied coolly, though the slight shake in her voice betrayed more emotion than she wanted him to hear. âEliza is your concern.â
Kylianâs expression hardened for half a second before something more conflicted flickered beneath it.
Rosa didnât wait to dissect it, instead she turned on her heel immediately, heels clicking against the marble floor as she headed back toward the low pulse of music spilling from the party beyond the hallway.
But she barely made it three steps before Kylian caught her wrist, not rough, just desperate enough to stop her.
She inhaled sharply as he pulled her back toward him, the movement quick enough that her body collided against his chest. Warm. Solid. Familiar in the worst possible way.
âKylian, let go of me,â she protested, the words coming out breathless instead of firm.
His hand tightened around her wrist for only a second before sliding upward along her arm, fingers settling against her waist instead like he physically couldnât stop himself from touching her.
âYou donât get to walk away after saying shit like that,â he murmured, frustration tangled thickly in his accent.
âNo,â he said immediately, eyes locking onto hers. âYou just want to.â
The air between them felt charged.
Rosa could hear the distant bass from the party somewhere down the corridor, muffled laughter echoing faintly through the house, but it all sounded far away compared to the way Kylian was looking at her.
Like sheâd broken down something inside him.
His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth, then back to her eyes, and that tiny moment of hesitation was all the warning she got.
Kylian kissed her suddenly. Deep and immediate.
The force of it stole the breath from her lungs as his hand slid firmly against the small of her back, pulling her flush against him. Rosa gasped softly into his mouth, fingers instinctively catching against the front of his shirt as the kiss turned messy almost instantly.
Kylian kissed her like a man trying to prove something to both of them. His mouth moved against hers hungrily, frustration bleeding through every second of it as his thumb pressed hard against her waist.
Rosa hated the way her body reacted immediately, pulse spiraling, knees weakening slightly as his tongue slipped against hers.
âKylianâŚâ she breathed against his lips weakly, though it sounded less like resistance and more like surrender.
A quiet groan escaped him at the sound of his name.
âThere,â he muttered against her mouth. âThatâs what drives me fucking insane.â
Rosaâs fingers tightened in his shirt as he kissed her again, slower this time but somehow more dangerous. The tension between them had always lived beneath the surface; buried beneath timing, ego, distance, and all the things neither of them had said.
Now it sat between them completely exposed, and that terrified her.
Because for a second, pressed against him in the dim hallway with his heartbeat tapping beneath her palm, Rosa understood that letting Kylian go would never be simple.
But she'd decided that she had to make things easier on herself at the very least, and that stared by drawing a line.
Rosa pulled back from the kiss with a sharp inhale, her palm flattening against Kylian's chest to create space that her body didn't know if it actually wanted.
"If you wanted me," she said, her voice steadier than her pulse, "you would've proved it before now."
Kylian's jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath the stubble she'd felt against her chin seconds ago. His hand remained suspended in the air where her waist had been, fingers curling slowly into a fist before dropping to his side. The hallway's distant noise pressed against the silence between them; someone laughing too loud, a glass breaking somewhere downstairs.
"Don't." She smoothed her cardigan with trembling fingers, not looking at him, not trusting herself to.
She turned before he could respond, her heels clicking against the floor with deliberate rhythm, each step a small violence against the part of her that wanted to turn back. The bathroom door swung shut behind her with a heavy finality, and she didn't let herself pause in the corridor, didn't let herself think about what had just taken place as she navigated the hallways.
The music hit her differently now: too bright, too insistent. Rosa scanned the room until she spotted Trent near the kitchen archway, his familiar posture easy against the doorframe, laughing at something someone had said.
Trent's eyes found hers across the room with the unerring accuracy of habit, his smile widening as he straightened from the doorframe. Rosa moved toward him through the press of bodies, each step deliberate, mechanical, her hand still warm from where it had pressed against Kylian's chest.
"There you are," Trent said, catching her waist as she reached him, his palm settling with easy familiarity. "I was about to send a search party."
Rosa leaned into him, inhaling the clean scent of his cologne, something uncomplicated she'd bought him last Christmas. "Bathroom line," she murmured against his shoulder, the lie tasting like copper. "And I needed air."
His thumb traced idle patterns against her hip, unaware or unconcerned. "You okay? You look flushed."
"Too much champagne." She pressed her cheek to his collarbone, feeling the steady thrum of his heart, so different from what she'd felt minutes before. "Take me home soon?"
They left within the hour, Trent's hand firm in hers as they navigated the steps of Davidâs porch, the night air sharp against their warm flesh.
Using sex as a means of avoidance was something Rosa knew far too well. It had always been an easy place to hideâinside desire, inside distraction, inside someone elseâs touch. But when the feelings attached to the man in your bed were real, the act became something else entirely. It stopped being an escape and started becoming its own kind of vulnerability, carrying the weight of everything left unsaid.
Trent fucked into Rosa with a desperation that belonged only behind closed doors and to complete privacy. One hand braced against the bedroom wall beside her head while the other held firmly to her thigh, keeping her exactly where he wanted her. His face stayed buried against her neck, breath hot against her skin as he lost himself in the rhythm of her body.
âYes,â Rosa whispered, the word breaking apart into a helpless moan as he hit deep enough to pull the air from her.
Her arms locked around his shoulders, holding him close.
Trent lifted his head then, eyes finding hers immediately. The look on his face focused, wrecked, completely undone by her, sent another rush of heat through her core.
âSo fucking tight,â he muttered.
His hips snapped forward again before he could help it, drawing a sharp cry from her. Rosa instinctively tilted toward the friction, chasing it.
âHarder,â she breathed. âPlease.â
His grip tightened, and he drove deeper, watching her mouth fall open around another moan.
âYou deserve everything,â he said against her jaw. âBut look at me, baby. I want your eyes on me.â
Rosa forced her eyes open then, to find Trent was already watching her, pupils blown wide, expression dark with desire. The intensity of it all made her breath hitch.
âLook how good you take me,â he groaned, glancing down briefly between them.
Her gaze followed his, and the sight nearly undid her.
Every slow thrust pulled her open for him again, her body welcoming him back without hesitation. Nothing about this felt casual anymore. Not the way he touched her. Not the way he looked at her like he was memorising every reaction.
âMy good girl,â Trent murmured.
A tear slipped free before she realised it had fallen. He caught it with his mouth without slowing down.
Her nails dragged down his back this time without restraint. She wanted him marked.
The rhythm between them changed after that. Slower. Deeper.
Trent rolled his hips in deliberate circles that left her trembling against the wall, every movement aimed at the spot that made her vision blur. Her head tipped back softly, mouth open around broken sounds she no longer tried to hide.
Her thighs shook in his hands.
Then suddenly he was lifting her away from the wall and carrying her toward the bed without breaking their rhythm. He sat at the edge of the mattress with her still wrapped around him.
Instead of settling onto her knees, Rosa balanced carefully in his lap, feet pressed into the comforter as she began to move over him in slow, shallow strokes.
The new angle pulled a rough sound from both of them. Her fingers slid into his damp curls to steady herself while his hands settled at her hips; not controlling, just holding her there while she found her pace.
âYouâre so beautiful,â he said quietly against her throat.
The softness in his voice hit harder than the praise itself. Rosa sank fully onto him then, taking him as deep as she could. A shaky sound escaped her as her forehead dropped against his.
For a moment neither of them moved.
Their breaths mingled in the small space between them, warm and uneven.
No distance. No performance.
Her fingers loosened in his hair and drifted instead to his jaw, holding him there gently as his eyes lifted to meet hers again, her mind temporarily clearing of everything but Trent.
Trent's hands shifted beneath her, gathering her closer before lifting her off him with a slow, deliberate withdrawal that left her gasping at the sudden emptiness. He turned her gently, guiding her face down onto the mattress with a hand spread between her shoulder blades. The cotton duvet cooled her flushed cheek as she settled, knees sinking slightly into the bed, spine arching instinctively when his palm traced the curve of her hip.
His breath warmed the back of her thigh first. Then his mouth, grazing the tender skin where her leg met her body, pressing a lingering kiss there while his thumbs traced upward along her inner thighs. Rosa's fingers twisted into the bedding, anticipation tightening low in her stomach as he spread her open with deliberate care, thumbs pressing gently against her slick folds to expose her fully to the cool air of the room.
The first stroke of his tongue pulled a raw sound from her throat. He licked slowly, thoroughly, from her entrance upward with a flat, unhurried pressure that made her hips buck helplessly against the mattress. His thumbs held her steady, spreading her wider as he returned to focus on the sensitive bud at the top, circling with the tip of his tongue before drawing her between his lips with gentle suction.
"Trentâ" His name broke apart on her exhale, muffled against the duvet. She could hear herself, wet and shameless, could feel the slight stretch of his thumbs keeping her open while he worked her with his mouth. The dual sensation of exposure and devotion sent heat flooding through her limbs, her toes curling against the bed as he increased the pressure, licking faster now, deeper, one thumb shifting to press just inside her entrance while his tongue stayed focused above.
Her back arched sharply, spine lifting off the mattress before his free hand pressed between her shoulder blades again, holding her down against the bed while he continued.
The restraint sent something unnamed through her. She was pinned, open, utterly at his mercy, and the thought alone pushed her closer to the edge. His thumb inside her curled slightly, finding a rhythm that matched the flicker of his tongue, and Rosa's forehead dropped hard against her crossed wrists, breath coming in short, broken bursts that smelled of his cologne on the sheets.
When he groaned against her, the vibration travelled through her entire body. She felt it in her teeth, her fingertips, the hollow place behind her ribs. His stubble scraped the delicate skin of her inner thighs, a rough counterpoint to the wet softness of his mouth, and the contrast made her shudder continuously, unable to still herself.
He paused only to turn his head and press his open mouth against the crease of her thigh, breathing hard, before returning with renewed focus, his tongue tracing patterns that seemed designed to unravel her completely.
Her hips moved in small, involuntary circles against his mouth, seeking more pressure, more contact, more of the specific rhythm that was building something enormous at her core. His thumb withdrew slightly, then pressed back in alongside a second finger, stretching her while his tongue flattened against her in broad, insistent strokes.
The combination made her cry out, the sound cracking against the quiet room, and she felt him respond with a harder suck that bordered on the edge of too much before gentling again, teasing her back from the brink with lighter, fluttering touches.
"Please," she whispered, not sure what she was asking for, only that the word needed to exist in the space between them. His fingers curled inside her, pressing against the spot that made her vision spark white at the edges, and his tongue returned to the relentless rhythm that had driven her toward the edge before. This time he didn't ease off.
The pressure built steadily, coiling tighter with each stroke, each curl of his fingers, each wet sound that filled the room around them.
Rosa's knuckles ached from gripping the sheets, her jaw tight, breath held somewhere in her chest as the sensation crested and broke over her in waves that started deep and radiated outward until she was trembling uncontrollably against the mattress, his mouth still working her through the aftershocks with gentler, slower movements that made her twitch and gasp with oversensitivity.
He didn't withdraw until she stilled completely, his hands softening their grip to stroke her thighs, her hips, the small of her back with a tenderness that made her eyes sting again. She felt him shift on the bed, heard the rustle of movement, and then his weight settled along her spine, his mouth finding the shell of her ear with a kiss that carried the taste of her.
âI can't get enough of you,â he whispered feverishly, his hands finding her hips so he could turn her onto her back with a slow, deliberate strength that made her feel weightless, boneless, his. The mattress dipped beneath the shifting weight, and she blinked up at him through the haze of afterglow, her lips parted still, breathing shallow and quick.
His face hovered above hers, flushed dark, his eyes heavy-lidded and fixed on her with an intensity that made her stomach flip. She could smell herself on his jaw, on his mouth, and the intimacy of it sent another shiver through her body.
"You're shaking," he murmured, not with concern but with something hungrier, something pleased. His thumb traced the line of her hipbone, then lower, skimming the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. She watched his gaze follow his own hand, watched him catalogue her body with a reverence that made her feel seen.
"More," she whispered, the word barely audible, and his eyes snapped back to hers, something dark and delighted flickering there. He shifted his weight, settling between her thighs with a deliberateness that made her breath catch, his palm spreading her open, thumb circling with a pressure that made her hips jerk involuntarily.
"More?" he breathed, but there was no reprimand in his words, only a roughness that unravelled her further. She watched the muscles in his forearm flex as he worked her, watched his own arousal twitch against his stomach, neglected and gleaming.
The sight of it, the selflessness of his focus on her despite his own need, sent something feverish pooling low in her stomach.
âI want to please you,â Rosa whispered, the confession slipping out raw and unguarded. She reached for him, fingers trembling as they closed around his length, feeling the heat and weight of him, the way his whole body stilled at her touch.
His forehead dropped to hers, breath harsh against her lips. "You already do." The words scraped out of him, barely controlled, and he rocked into her palm once, twice, before catching himself.
âDonât stop, use me,â Rosa pouted as a sound tore from Trentâs throat, something between a groan and a surrender, and his hips bucked once more into her grip before he stilled himself with visible effort. His free hand found her jaw, thumb pressing into the hollow beneath her ear, tilting her face to meet his gaze.
Trent's grip shifted to her shoulders, guiding her until she lay with her head hanging off the edge of the mattress, her thick black hair spilling towards the floor, the world inverting and her nipples hardening with the realisation of what was to come.
He rose from the bed with a slow deliberation that made Rosa's breath hitch, the mattress groaning softly as he stood. From her inverted vantage, he loomed above her, a silhouette carved by the lamplight, the muscled plane of his abdomen that transcended to the curve of his cock, still glistening from earlier.
She swallowed once, and then again, the anticipation pooling insistently and hot between her thighs.
He stepped forward until his knees almost bracketed her temples, the heat of his skin radiating against her flushed face. His hand cradled the back of her skull with a gentleness that stole her breath, his fingers threading through her hair where it cascaded toward the floor.
"Open," he said, the single word vibrating through her.
Rosa obeyed, letting her jaw go slack, allowing him to feed himself into her mouth with a measured patience that didn't match the strain in his thighs, the tremor she could feel where his fingers gripped her.
The angle was strange, demanding her throat to open in ways she didn't know it could, and she gagged on him once, and then twice, her eyes watering immediately, the reflex unstoppable and somehow, shamefully arousing. Spit gathered at the corners of her mouth, slicked down her temples, and matted in her hair where it swung free.
His other hand found her breast first, kneading roughly, then traced downward with unhurried purpose. When his fingers slipped between her legs, she moaned around him, the vibration making his hips roll forward, deeper.
He found her clit with the pad of his thumb, circling lazy and cruel while his fingers pressed inside, curling to the rhythm he set with his thrusts.
The dual sensation shattered her focus, she couldn't concentrate on breathing, on relaxing her throat, on anything but the building pressure, the wet sounds filling the room, the mess of herself she was becoming.
Trent's grip tightened in Rosa's hair, his hips finding a rhythm that made her eyes roll back, the world narrowing to the taste of him, the stretch of her jaw, and the obscene sounds slipping from her body that she couldn't control.
She gagged again and he didn't slow, just adjusted his angle with a tenderness that made her pussy clench around his fingers, still working her from the inside out.
Her hands found his thighs, nails digging crescents into the muscle there, anchoring herself as he used her mouth.
Rosa was consumed by it all, the lack of air somehow heightening every other sensation, the slick of her own arousal between her thighs. His thumb pressed harder, circling her clit with the same tempo as his cock in her throat, and she felt an orgasm building that she couldn't outrun, terrifying in its inevitability.
He pulled out suddenly, a string of spit connecting her swollen lips to his flushed tip of his cock, and she gasped, sucking in air.
The loss of him left her mouth aching, empty, her jaw pulsing as she worked it. Trent's chest heaved too, his abdomen slick with sweat, his cock bobbing heavy and dark against his stomach as he stepped back from the bed.
He dropped to his knees at the footboard with a force that should have hurt, that probably would bruise, and his hands found her, twisting and dragging her toward him until she lay on the edge of the mattress.
The comforter gathered under her, her hair tangling further in its curl pattern. He hooked her legs over his shoulders, his mouth finding her inner thigh, biting hard enough to mark, then licking the sting away.
Trent's breath came hot against her thigh, his stubble scraping the tender skin there as he dragged his mouth upward. Rosa's hips lifted involuntarily, seeking, her hands gripping the comforter until her knuckles lightened a shade. He paused at the crease where her leg met her body, his tongue tracing the flesh, while his fingers dug into the flesh of her ass, holding her spread.
"Please," she whispered, the word breaking in her raw throat, and she hated how desperate she sounded, how thoroughly he'd unraveled her.
He answered by closing his mouth over her pussy suddenly, his tongue flat and broad against her clit, pressing with a pressure that made her spine arch off the mattress.
The sound she made was animalistic, heels digging into his back as he began to eat her again with the same focused intensity he'd brought to everything else. His stubble prickeld against her swollen lips, his nose pressing into her with each upward flick of his tongue, the wet sounds obscene and unmistakable in the quiet room.
Rosa's head thrashed against the pillows, her nipples aching, as her hands found her nipples pinching hard to ground herself. Trent growled against her, the vibration traveling through her clit, and thrust two fingers inside her without warning, curling them against the spot that made her vision blur at the edges.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she cried, not sure whether it was prayer or curse, her hips rolling against his face, chasing the friction, the heat of him, the building pressure that threatened to break her open.
He lifted his mouth just enough to speak, his lips glistening, his eyes dark and fixed on hers. "Not yet." Then he was standing, his cock heavy and flushed, and he dragged her further down the bed until her hips hung off the edge, her legs dangling, her body completely at his mercy.
Trent gripped himself at the base, running the head through her folds, coating himself in her arousal, teasing her clit with shallow nudges and taps that made a whine rip from her chest. Then he lined himself up and thrust into her in one long, brutal stroke that forced the air from her lungs, his hips slamming against her thighs, his cock bottoming out with a depth that bordered on pain.
Rosa's mouth opened on a silent scream, her back bowing, her hands scrabbling for purchase on him. He didn't give her time to adjust, pulling back and driving in again, setting a punishing rhythm that shook the bed against the wall, that made her breasts bounce and her hair tangle further.
"Play with yourself," he commanded, his voice guttural, and his jaw tight with control.
Her hand found her clit, clumsy and desperate, circling the swollen bud in time with his thrusts. The angle was perfect, his cock dragging against her walls with each stroke, his pelvis grinding down against her fingers when he settled deep.
The pressure spiraled tighter, Rosa's fingers slipping against her own wetness as Trent's thrusts grew erratic, deeper, the slap of skin against skin filling the room like something alive and hungry. His hands gripped her hips hard enough to bruise, his thumbs pressing into the soft hollows above her pelvis, holding her still for his use. She could feel the strain in his arms, the tremor running through his thighs as he fought the edge building between them.
"Look at me," he demanded, and Rosa dragged her eyes open, her vision swimming. His face was flushed, sweat gathering at his hairline, his mouth parted around harsh breaths. The intimacy of it struck her harder than the physical sensationâTrent bared, unguarded, watching her come apart beneath him. She felt the moment he felt her tightening around him, her inner walls fluttering in premonition, and his rhythm faltered, became almost violent in its desperation.
"Now," he gritted out, "cum now, Rosa."
The command shattered her. Her orgasm crashed through her with a force that wrenched a raw cry from her throat, her back arching violently, her fingers balling into a fist against her clit as wave after wave of pleasure radiated from her core.
Trent drove into her twice more, deep and wrenching, and then he was coming too, his head falling back with a guttural sound that seemed torn from somewhere primal, his hips jerking against hers as he spilled inside her.
For long moments they stayed locked together, trembling, the only sound their ragged breathing. Trent's grip on her hips softened, his thumbs tracing slow, almost tender circles against her overheated skin. He leaned forward, his weight settling over her, his face burying in the curve of her neck where her pulse hammered wildly. Rosa's arms came up around him instinctively, her fingers threading through his damp hair, holding him there.
For a long time neither of them moved.
The room had fallen quiet except for the sound of their breathing gradually settling into something calmer, something steadier. Trent remained folded over her, his forehead resting against her shoulder, his arm draped heavily across her waist as though he couldnât bear to put any distance between them.
Rosa stared up at the ceiling, her pulse finally beginning to slow.
The events of the evening drifted through her mind uninvited. And for a fleeting moment, Kylianâs face surfaced again. The frustration in his voice, the look on his face when sheâd walked away.
The kiss she hadnât expected, yet returned.
Guilt twisted in her stomach, not because shehad come to a decision, but because of how complicated everything had become.
Slowly, Rosa turned her head as Trent lifted himself enough to look at her. There was no suspicion in his expression. No doubt. No questions. Just the same quiet affection.
The kind that didnât demand anything from her.
His thumb brushed lazily across her hip.
âWhat are you thinking about?â he asked, as his thumb grazed across her bottom lip, as noticing the look in her eye.
His voice was rough with sleep and amusement.
Maybe he was right, and there were a hundred things she could say, a hundred things she should probably say. But not tonight. Tonight she was tired. Tonight she wanted peace.
So instead of answering, she reached for him.
Her fingers slid into the hair at the nape of his neck, drawing him closer until his forehead touched hers.
