Endless Bonds {BTY #2} ✔

EB 16: Where She's Considering His Dick Size

Endless Bonds Copyright © 2016-2017 xXMopelXx All Rights Reserved.

Chapter Posted - June 26, 2017

** RECAP **

Trent and Cheryl used to be best friends. They drifted away because of a jealous ex and different circumstances. They see each other again after two years. They're reconnecting and have finally forgiven each other. Last chapter they went to a field where Trent finally spoke about his feelings and got drunk. Cher drives him back to her place because it's more convenient. He tries to "kiss" her and Cher freaks out because she has a fiancee - even tho no one knows yet. He falls asleep. Now we're here!

Happy reading as always, loves! xo

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C H E R

:: Chapter (16) :: Where she's considering his dick size

Trenton Reynolds is a sight to behold.

I feel like a total creep watching his half-naked sleeping form in Sara's bed from my perched position on the edge of my own bed. I can't look away. Strangely enough, I'm transfixed by the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.

Even though he's wrapped messily in pink sheets, he's never looked more masculine then with that angel-face adorned with perfect dark stubble and that carved-by-God-itself body moving with every exhale, causing his muscles to shift.

I've seen him shirtless in our younger days – it's not a big deal. Occasionally even glimpsed his bare torso when I'd be at his house, chilling with Nat, and he'd come over sweaty from football practice. That sneaky grin he'd shoot me while he wiped a towel down his washboard-worthy abs was enough to have me blushing nine ways to Sunday.

Now? Nothing could prepare me for the strong and roped body of a twenty-one-year-old Trenton. I woke up half an hour ago from a restless night of sleep, only to find him comatose to the world with his gorgeous figure on display. The sixteen-year-old me who'd been infatuated with her best friend would have fainted at the mere sight.

My mind runs over last night, and I remember that Trent and I had a moment. Albeit weird, it's still embedded in my head. The way he rose and nearly...nearly closed the distance between our faces. I squeeze my eyes shut to block out that memory.

Instead, my treacherous gaze darts back to where he's lying down. I bite my lip.

He's got an impressive physique that's honed by years of football-playing. There isn't a scar or blemish on that perfectly sun-kissed skin. Except as he shifts in his sleep, throwing an arm over his face, leaving the sheets to pool around his hips, my mouth goes dry. I notice a black tat – something like a quote – running down the muscled underside of his right arm.

I don't have a moment to decipher it, because my eyes are trailing over those sculpted pecs, following down his muscled stomach to the trail of hair that leads to his...Jesus Christ, Trent likes to go commando. I let that thought sink in.

I've spent enough nights next to Pierre to wake up in the morning and find the sheets tented between his legs.

Last night I helped Trent slip out of his shoes. He probably got rid of his shirt, jeans, and boxers when I was asleep. They are scattered on my dorm floor.