You Were Mine
Page 37
He inhaled sharply, tore his mouth from mine, and looked down at me. The desire that pounded in my veins and awakened every inch of my body was there in his eyes. “No panties,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
I shook my head because speaking was too much.
He slowly slid his hand down until he met the wetness that he’d caused. He lowered his forehead against mine and closed his eyes tightly while his finger began to move between my open legs. His breathing was hard and labored, as if he kept forgetting to breathe and had to gasp when he remembered to.
I squeezed his shoulders and trembled as his finger remained so close to where I wanted it to touch.
“You’re soaked,” he said, then hissed in a breath.
I was aware of this. I could feel it dampening my thighs. He began to move his finger, and I buried my face in his chest and cried out. He slipped one finger inside, then slowly started pumping it in and out. I moaned and panted, with my mouth muzzled against his chest.
“So hot and tight. God, I love touching you like this. I’m going to rub that swollen clit now, sweetheart. Hold on to me,” he said just before his thumb did as he promised.
My head fell back as I screamed out his name.
“Fuuuuck,” he said, grabbing my head and pulling it back against his chest. “That good? That hot little pussy wants to be taken care of? You’re squeezing my fingers so damn tight I swear I’m gonna end up coming in my damn pants.”
I didn’t need the added stimulation of Tripp’s dirty talk. I was already ready to explode. I wanted to scream his name and claw at his bare back. I no longer cared if someone heard me. I just wanted the release he was going to give me.
I gripped handfuls of his shirt and tried to unbutton it frantically. I needed my hands on him. I wanted to feel that beautiful chest I’d fantasized about.
“Easy,” he said, reaching up to keep me from ripping his shirt open. “I’ll take it off if that’s what you want, but right now, I want to feel you come on my fingers,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to my lips.
I wanted that, too.
“You’ve soaked my leg,” he said with a pleased chuckle.
Oh, God. I didn’t even care. Grabbing his shirt tighter in my fists, I panted wildly against his chest.
“Ride my hand. Show me what feels good. Fuck my fingers, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” His voice was deep and raspy in my ears.
I didn’t need to ride his hand and show him anything. The sound of his voice talking about me fucking his fingers as he did wonderful things to me was enough to send me flying over the edge. The pleasure that broke inside was almost painful as it rocked my body hard. I jerked wildly as Tripp’s name fell from my lips in a desperate plea.
His mouth was still at my ear, telling me things that only prolonged this. How he could smell me and how my come was coating his fingers and how hard he was. I had forgotten about his dirty talk. He had a very powerful way with words.
“Stop!” I gasped out, needing to breathe.
He was holding me tightly against him as his hand remained cupped between my legs. “Stop what, sweetheart?” he asked, running his mouth up and down my neck as his heavy breathing heated my skin.
“Don’t talk,” I begged. He had to stop talking. It was too much.
A low chuckle vibrated through his chest, and I realized I still had his very expensive shirt clasped tightly in my fists. I let go and tried to smooth it out, even though my body didn’t want to function properly. “Can I talk yet?” he asked.
I looked up at him as he watched me, the need still glowing in his eyes. “If it’s not dirty,” I said, still sounding like I had run a mile.
He laughed out loud this time and pulled me tighter to him as his hand slowly eased out from between my legs.
“S’not funny,” I said, laying my head back against the trunk of the palm tree.
He bent down and kissed the corner of my mouth. “You don’t like it when I tell you how good you feel?”
Oh, I liked it all right. “Your dirty mouth should come with a warning. It’s lethal,” I informed him as my heart slowed and my breathing evened out.
He smirked, then dropped his eyes to my legs, which were still straddling his thigh. I lowered my leg that I had wrapped around his waist. “My very wet pants leg believes you enjoyed my dirty words just fine,” he said, looking back up at me.
I was on my tiptoes in my heels to keep from completely sinking down onto his thigh. My calves were starting to burn. Damn man was too tall. “I need you to move your leg before I get a cramp in my calf,” I told him.
“Why will you get a cramp?” he asked, looking down. “Stop standing on your tiptoes. I’ve got you,” he said when he saw what I was doing.
I sighed and enjoyed the oxygen as it filled my lungs. “You’re already complaining about your wet leg. It will get much worse. I’m a bit of a mess,” I admitted.
“Not complaining about that, sweetheart. It’s sexy as hell. I can smell you on me, and it’s fucking amazing.”
Oh, God, there he went again. I shook my head at him and put a finger over his lips. “No more of that. I mean it. I have to pull myself together and walk back inside.”
Tripp grinned, and his lips felt so full underneath my finger that I wanted to trace them and lick them. “You can’t go back in there, sweetheart. Your dress is wrinkled, I’ve pulled most of your hair down, your lips are swollen, and I’d bet the soft skin on your neck is all red from my obsession with it. Then there’s the fact that you aren’t wearing panties, and you smell like sex. It’s intoxicating, and I refuse to let someone else smell it.”
I shook my head because speaking was too much.
He slowly slid his hand down until he met the wetness that he’d caused. He lowered his forehead against mine and closed his eyes tightly while his finger began to move between my open legs. His breathing was hard and labored, as if he kept forgetting to breathe and had to gasp when he remembered to.
I squeezed his shoulders and trembled as his finger remained so close to where I wanted it to touch.
“You’re soaked,” he said, then hissed in a breath.
I was aware of this. I could feel it dampening my thighs. He began to move his finger, and I buried my face in his chest and cried out. He slipped one finger inside, then slowly started pumping it in and out. I moaned and panted, with my mouth muzzled against his chest.
“So hot and tight. God, I love touching you like this. I’m going to rub that swollen clit now, sweetheart. Hold on to me,” he said just before his thumb did as he promised.
My head fell back as I screamed out his name.
“Fuuuuck,” he said, grabbing my head and pulling it back against his chest. “That good? That hot little pussy wants to be taken care of? You’re squeezing my fingers so damn tight I swear I’m gonna end up coming in my damn pants.”
I didn’t need the added stimulation of Tripp’s dirty talk. I was already ready to explode. I wanted to scream his name and claw at his bare back. I no longer cared if someone heard me. I just wanted the release he was going to give me.
I gripped handfuls of his shirt and tried to unbutton it frantically. I needed my hands on him. I wanted to feel that beautiful chest I’d fantasized about.
“Easy,” he said, reaching up to keep me from ripping his shirt open. “I’ll take it off if that’s what you want, but right now, I want to feel you come on my fingers,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to my lips.
I wanted that, too.
“You’ve soaked my leg,” he said with a pleased chuckle.
Oh, God. I didn’t even care. Grabbing his shirt tighter in my fists, I panted wildly against his chest.
“Ride my hand. Show me what feels good. Fuck my fingers, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” His voice was deep and raspy in my ears.
I didn’t need to ride his hand and show him anything. The sound of his voice talking about me fucking his fingers as he did wonderful things to me was enough to send me flying over the edge. The pleasure that broke inside was almost painful as it rocked my body hard. I jerked wildly as Tripp’s name fell from my lips in a desperate plea.
His mouth was still at my ear, telling me things that only prolonged this. How he could smell me and how my come was coating his fingers and how hard he was. I had forgotten about his dirty talk. He had a very powerful way with words.
“Stop!” I gasped out, needing to breathe.
He was holding me tightly against him as his hand remained cupped between my legs. “Stop what, sweetheart?” he asked, running his mouth up and down my neck as his heavy breathing heated my skin.
“Don’t talk,” I begged. He had to stop talking. It was too much.
A low chuckle vibrated through his chest, and I realized I still had his very expensive shirt clasped tightly in my fists. I let go and tried to smooth it out, even though my body didn’t want to function properly. “Can I talk yet?” he asked.
I looked up at him as he watched me, the need still glowing in his eyes. “If it’s not dirty,” I said, still sounding like I had run a mile.
He laughed out loud this time and pulled me tighter to him as his hand slowly eased out from between my legs.
“S’not funny,” I said, laying my head back against the trunk of the palm tree.
He bent down and kissed the corner of my mouth. “You don’t like it when I tell you how good you feel?”
Oh, I liked it all right. “Your dirty mouth should come with a warning. It’s lethal,” I informed him as my heart slowed and my breathing evened out.
He smirked, then dropped his eyes to my legs, which were still straddling his thigh. I lowered my leg that I had wrapped around his waist. “My very wet pants leg believes you enjoyed my dirty words just fine,” he said, looking back up at me.
I was on my tiptoes in my heels to keep from completely sinking down onto his thigh. My calves were starting to burn. Damn man was too tall. “I need you to move your leg before I get a cramp in my calf,” I told him.
“Why will you get a cramp?” he asked, looking down. “Stop standing on your tiptoes. I’ve got you,” he said when he saw what I was doing.
I sighed and enjoyed the oxygen as it filled my lungs. “You’re already complaining about your wet leg. It will get much worse. I’m a bit of a mess,” I admitted.
“Not complaining about that, sweetheart. It’s sexy as hell. I can smell you on me, and it’s fucking amazing.”
Oh, God, there he went again. I shook my head at him and put a finger over his lips. “No more of that. I mean it. I have to pull myself together and walk back inside.”
Tripp grinned, and his lips felt so full underneath my finger that I wanted to trace them and lick them. “You can’t go back in there, sweetheart. Your dress is wrinkled, I’ve pulled most of your hair down, your lips are swollen, and I’d bet the soft skin on your neck is all red from my obsession with it. Then there’s the fact that you aren’t wearing panties, and you smell like sex. It’s intoxicating, and I refuse to let someone else smell it.”
