Page 39 of Tripp

“Are you ready?” he asked, concern mixed with lust dancing behind his beautiful green eyes.

“I think so.”

He lowered his mouth to mine, his tongue sliding over my bottom lip and deliciously teasing me. The thrust of his tongue soon mirrored the thrust of his body. Gentle and patient. If his restraint teetered on the edge, he didn’t show it. Placing his hand under my knee, he widened my legs, pushing my thigh up toward me to open me up a little more.

“You’re beyond tight, baby,” he groaned, nipping my lip before kissing along my jaw, eventually burying his head in the crook of my neck and panting heavily. “Are you okay? How do you feel?”

“It hurts a little, but it feels good at the same time.” And it did hurt, even with how wet he’d made me. But it wasn’t as painful as I thought it would be.

“I have an idea,” he said before pulling out of me. “Come here.” He grabbed my hips and pulled me down the bed. He rested back on his haunches and spread my legs as far apart as possible. His hands braced underneath my knees, pressing my thighs back toward me like he’d just done with my leg moments earlier. “Wrap your hand around me and put me inside you.” When I looked hesitant, he said, “Trust me. Do it.”

With my hand fully wrapped around his cock, I lined him up at my entrance. He swiveled his hips before pushing back inside me, that time going in with much more ease, although he still took his time. An ache that’d bloomed inside me intensified, my body hungry for every inch of him. After slowly working himself in, we were fully sheathed. I felt so incredibly full. Tripp remained still until he took a few deep breaths and pulled back an inch.

“I’m gonna start to move now.” His expression looked pained and I wondered if I was somehow inadvertently hurting him.

“Are you okay?”

He clenched his jaw. “I’m more than okay. I’m just tryin’ to hold back so I don’t hurt you. But it’s so hard.” The sexiest moan flowed from his incredible lips, seducing me even more than he already had.

“Yes it is,” I said, laughing after I realized how cheesy my reply was. He chuckled, and whatever tension had existed between us instantly evaporated.

Every corded muscle of his chest constricted as he rocked in and out of me, the vision in front of me purely animalistic. His lips parted, his eyes hooded as he lost himself to the feel of my body. The sight of Tripp lost in his own bliss was intoxicating, and if I were a woman who could come from an image alone, it would have happened right then.

Several minutes later Tripp found a steady rhythm, thrusting inside me, gently at first and then a bit more aggressive the more my body opened for him. All traces of pain disappeared. Every time he swiveled his hips, he hit my sweet spot, the strangled “yes” which flew from my lips affirmation enough.

“Right there?” he asked, hitting the sensitive place inside me over and over. He knew damn well that was the spot.

“Yes. Oh . . . yes. Right there.” I tried to move with him, but the position he had me in made it near impossible to do so. “Tripp, let go of my legs. I want to feel you against me. Please,” I begged. It didn’t take but a second for him to comply.

Resting on top of me, some of his body weight held up by his forearms, his mouth found mine again as he fucked me senseless. “I can’t believe you’re takin’ all of me, baby. So fuckin’ good,” he panted. “You feel incredible. So warm. Tight. Do you love my cock?” The only response I could muster was a moan. “Tell me you love my big cock,” he demanded, plunging his tongue into my mouth. I should have known Tripp would talk dirty, his past sexual innuendoes surely laying the groundwork.

As we continued to taste each other, I felt my body crest on the wave of pleasure, climbing higher and higher until the sensation was so overwhelming there was nothing to do except count the seconds until my body detonated into the abyss of my impending orgasm.

I couldn’t believe the words that were about to come out of my mouth, but before I could stop myself, I shouted, “Fuck me harder. I’m right there. Oh my God. Yes . . . I’m right there.” My fingers clenched his tight ass as he picked up his pace, reaching underneath me to pull me closer while he pounded into me, although I suspected he still restrained himself. A twinge of pain erupted but was quickly absorbed by my orgasm. Every nerve inside me fired into the heavens, the feeling so strong and powerful I almost lost my breath. Tripp latched on to my mouth and swallowed my screams, his own moans mixing with mine as he lost himself to his own high.

When we’d finally come back down, our breath regulated and reality came back into focus. Tripp remained on top of me, his weight starting to crush me the longer he laid there. I tapped his ass. When he still didn’t budge, I slapped his rear.

“Ow,” he grumbled.

“You . . . have to . . . move.” My strangled words were enough for him to roll off me.

“Sorry.” He laughed. “I forget my size sometimes.”

“You could’ve killed me,” I teased, turning on my side to face him.

“It’d be a hell of a way to go out, though, don’t ya think?”

I never answered, the curve of my lips enough to tell him I agreed. To look at him right then was the best sight I’d ever laid eyes on. A thin sheen of sweat covered his large, muscled body, the tips of his hair sticking to his forehead from all of his exertion. I never thought a sweaty man could be alluring, but Tripp had proved me wrong. His semi-erect arousal lay across his belly, the condom he’d worn disposed of in a nearby wastebasket.

Lost to the image of the man lying next to me, he startled me when he reached out to pull me close. He smiled and kissed my temple, wrapping his arm around me as I snuggled into his side. Without thinking, the pads of my fingers danced over his skin. When I came to a scar, I stopped, but only briefly before continuing on.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Sometimes when it rains, but other than that, not really.”

I decided to continue to be inquisitive, hoping in his contented state that he wouldn’t hold anything back. “I thought all big bad biker boys were inked up. So where’s yours?” I continued to trace his skin, the circling rhythm comforting me enough I felt my eyelids grow heavy.

“First off,” he said, grabbing my hand and placing it over his manhood, “I ain’t no boy.” He thrust his hips for effect and laughed when I playfully pulled back and smacked his arm. “Second, people usually get inked to tell a story. My wounds are my story.” His words were poetic yet haunting. I couldn’t even imagine what he’d experienced, the horrific ordeal he had to live through. But live he did, which proved Tripp was a fighter. If I hadn’t realized it before, I did in that moment.

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